I'm doing?" he challenged.

"No."

"I'm studyin' navigation. Cap'n Branscome's larnin' it to me. Some
people has luck an' some has heads; an' with a head on my shoulders
same as I had at your age, I'd be Prime Minister an' Lord Mayor of
Lunnon rolled into one, by crum!" He reached across for Captain
Branscome's sextant, and held it between his shaking hands.
"_He_ can do it; hundreds o' men--thick-headed men in the ord'nary
way--can do it; take a vessel out o' Falmouth here, as you might say,
and hold her 'crost the Atlantic, as you might put it; whip her along
for thirty days, we'll say; an' then, 'To-morrow, if the wind holds,
an' about six in the mornin',' they'll say, 'there'll be an island
with a two-three palm-trees on a hill an' a spit o' sand bearing
nor'-by-west. Bring 'em in line,' they'll say, 'an' then you may
fetch my shaving-water'--and all the while no more'n ordinary men,
same as you and me. Whereby I allow it must come in time, though my
head don't seem to get no grip on it."

Captain Coffin stared for a moment at a sheet of paper on which he
had been scribbling figures, and passed it over to me, with a sigh.

"There! What d'you make of it?"

At a glance I saw that nothing could be made of it. The figures
crossed one another, and ran askew; here and there they trailed off
into mere illegibility. In the left-hand bottom corner I saw a 3 set
under a 10, and beneath it the result--17--underlined, which, as a
sum, left much to be desired, whether you took it in addition,
subtraction, multiplication, or division.

"And yet," he went on plaintively, "there's hundreds can do it--even
ord'nary men."

He reached out a hand and gripped me by the elbow; and again his
brandy-laden breath sickened me as he drew me close.

"S'pose, now, _you_ was to do this for me? You _could_, you know.
And there's money in it--lashin's o' money!"

He winked at me, glanced around the room, and with an indescribable
air of slyness dived a hand into his breast-pocket.

"It's here," he nodded, drawing out a small parcel wrapped about in
what at first glance appeared to me an oilskin bag, tied about the
neck with a tarry string. "Here. And enough to set you an' me up
for life." His fingers fumbled with the string for two or three
seconds, but presently faltered. "You come to me to-morrow," he went
on, with another mysterious wink, "and I'll show you something.
Up the hill, past Market Strand, till you come to a