ntly, hope it will come
all right, and leave me, to see after their own comforts. What a
selfish, unsympathetic world this is!

"Hallo!" says a young man, not in naval costume, but evidently an
official of some sort, blithely turning towards me and mentioning my
name inquiringly, which I immediately acknowledge, whereupon he
continues, "I'm delighted to meet you. My name's CRICK." I smile, and
shake his hand warmly, as if congratulating him on his appellation.
"Where's your berth?" Then I have to explain it all over to him. I'm
becoming sick of these explanations. They're asking me for the number of
my berth, as if they wanted an extract from my baptismal-register, or my
marriage-certificate. "Don't know what you'll do," says CRICK, smiling
as if the whole thing were a good joke. And I thought he could help me!
"Where's your dinner-place?" he asks. Good heavens! I don't know--how
should I? Where's _his_ dinner-place? "Oh," he replies, "mine's aft. If
you like to join us, we'll find room. It's very jolly. Not so swell, you
know." No, I don't know, and haven't an idea what he means. But if I
can't get dinner "forward," I'll dine "aft" with pleasure. ROSSHER comes
up.

"All right," he says to CRICK. "Just take this gentleman" (meaning me)
"to the Saloon; there are several spare places." ROSSHER pats me on the
back, encouragingly. Oh, how grateful I am to ROSSHER! CRICK says, "Yes,
Sir," (what is CRICK?) and takes me to the Saloon--beautifully laid out
for two hundred and fifty guests--and finds me a capital place. Why
didn't he do this before? No matter, it's settled now. First bell
sounds. CRICK directs me to the wash-and-brush-up. In ten minutes I have
made my toilette, including opening my bag and getting out a dark serge
for dinner wear, and I walk into the Saloon as the convives are
assembling, with the air of a man who is well within his rights.

_Happy Thought._--I won't ask ROSSHER anything more about berth and
cabin until after dinner. After dinner is always a good-natured,
complaisant time.

Excellent dinner. Amusing company. Chiefly stories about long voyages,
rats and cockroaches. From what I hear I should not like a long voyage
in an old ship. We disperse over the vessel. Music, coffee, cigars, and
conversation. Lovely sight. Still, it will be lovelier if I am quite
certain where I am going to sleep. I find ROSSHER. "Ah!" he cries out,
cheerily, as if he had quite forgotten my particularly sad case, "how