hat is it to-day, scouse or lobscouse?"

"Scouse, miss," said the ship's cook, grinning widely at her
recollection of the line drawn by both his patrons and himself between
ship's biscuit stewed with fresh meat and the same article flavored
with salt junk.

Peter's recognition placed Iris's identity beyond doubt. She said
nothing more to Hozier, but tripped up the companionway. Soon he saw
her paying the man who had carried the portmanteau. She herself seemed
to be in no hurry. She walked to the rails beneath the bridge, and
found interest in watching the loading operations, which were resumed
as soon as the second officer saw that his services were not wanted.
Time was pressing, and a good deal yet remained to be done.

Mr. Watts, the chief officer, who was called ashore by urgent business
five minutes after the "old man" left the vessel, chose this awkward
moment to appear from behind a bonded warehouse. He was walking with
unnatural steadiness, so Hozier made some excuse to meet him and
whisper that the owner's niece was on board.

"Sun's zhot," remarked Mr. Watts cheerfully.

"Go and lie down for a spell," suggested Hozier, and Mr. Watts thought
it was a "shpiffin' idee." When Hozier was free to glance a second
time at the cross rail, Iris had vanished. He was annoyed. Evidently
she did not wish to encounter any more of the ship's officers that
morning.

The hatches were on, and everything was orderly before Coke's squat
figure climbed the gangway. Hozier reported the young lady's visit,
and the skipper was obviously surprised. As he hoisted himself up the
steep ladder to the hurricane deck, the younger man heard him
condemning someone under his breath as "a leery old beggar." The
phrase was hardly applicable to Iris, but Coke came out of his cabin
with an open letter in his hand, and bade a steward stow the
portmeanteau in some other more hallowed and less inconvenient place.

And there the incident ended. The _Andromeda_ hauled down the Blue
Peter for her long run of over 6,000 miles to Monte Video, and Hozier
had routine work in plenty to occupy his mind during the first
twenty-four hours at sea without perplexing it with memories of a
pretty face. Soon after Holyhead was passed, it is true, a sailor
reported to the second officer that he had seen a ghost between decks,
in the region of the lazarette. It was then near midnight, a quiet
hour on board ship, and Hozier told the man sharply to g