been poor, and so far he had only managed to
secure a single two-dollar bill. In a crisis like the one which had so
suddenly arisen you cannot do yourself justice with a boat-hook.

"Fifty berries!"

"Fifty seeds!" the girl assured him. "Are you on?"

"Queen," said the skipper simply, "you said a mouthful!"

Twenty minutes later Sam was climbing up the side of the liner as it lay
towering over the tug like a mountain. His clothes hung about him
clammily. He squelched as he walked.

A kindly-looking old gentleman who was smoking a cigar by the rail
regarded him with open eyes.

"My dear sir, you're very wet," he said.

Sam passed him with a cold face and hurried through the door leading to
the companion way.

"Mummie, why is that man wet?" cried the clear voice of a little child.

Sam whizzed by, leaping down the stairs.

"Good Lord, sir! You're very wet!" said a steward in the doorway of the
dining saloon.

"You _are_ wet," said a stewardess in the passage.

Sam raced for his state-room. He bolted in and sank on the lounge. In
the lower berth Eustace Hignett was lying with closed eyes. He opened
them languidly, then stared.

"Hullo!" he said. "I say! You're wet!"

Sec. 4

Sam removed his clinging garments and hurried into a new suit. He was in
no mood for conversation and Eustace Hignett's frank curiosity jarred
upon him. Happily, at this point, a sudden shivering of the floor and a
creaking of woodwork proclaimed the fact that the vessel was under way
again, and his cousin, turning pea-green, rolled over on his side with a
hollow moan. Sam finished buttoning his waistcoat and went out.

He was passing the inquiry bureau on the C-deck, striding along with
bent head and scowling brow, when a sudden exclamation caused him to
look up, and the scowl was wiped from his brow as with a sponge. For
there stood the girl he had met on the dock. With her was a superfluous
young man who looked like a parrot.

"Oh, _how_ are you?" asked the girl breathlessly.

"Splendid, thanks," said Sam.

"Didn't you get very wet?"

"I did get a little damp."

"I thought you would," said the young man who looked like a parrot.
"Directly I saw you go over the side I said to myself: 'That fellow's
going to get wet!'"

There was a pause.

"Oh!" said the girl. "May I--Mr.----?"

"Marlowe."

"Mr. Marlowe. Mr. Bream Mortimer."

Sam smirked at the young man. The young man smirked at Sam.

"Nearly got left behind,"