Spokesly, a case in point, was accustomed to use this very
phrase when in a mood in which his egotism was lying dormant. "I've
picked up a bargain," he would say to himself as he leaned over the rail
and watched the millions of tiny facets of the sea reflecting the
sunset. "A bargain," he would whisper in an awed voice, nodding gravely
at the opposite bulkhead, as he sat in his room with his feet in a
bucket of hot water, for this was his way with corns. And Mr. Reginald
Spokesly was intensely preoccupied with women. He had often sighed, on
the bridge, as he reflected what he might do "if he only had the means."
Perhaps, when he got a command.... He would halt short at this, suddenly
remembering the bargain he had picked up.

But it must not be for one moment imagined, when I speak of Mr. Spokesly
as being at that time a gentleman of indifferent calibre, that he was so
regarded by himself or his world afloat or ashore. Indeed, he was a
rather magnificent person. He played his cards very well. He "kept his
ears open and his mouth shut," as he himself put it. He had once
confided to Mr. Chippenham, the third officer, that "there was jobs
goin' just now, soft things, too, if y' only wait." The third officer
was not directly interested, for he knew well enough that he himself
stood no chance in that gamble. But he was impressed by Mr.
Spokesly's--the second officer's--exquisite fitness for any such jobs.
Even the Old Man, taciturn, distant, and dignified as he was, was not up
to Mr. Spokesly. Who had so slow and so deliberate a walk? Who could
treat the common people of the ship, the sailors, the firemen, the
engineers and wireless boys, with such lofty condescension? It was a
lesson in deportment to see him stroll into the chief engineer's room
and extend himself on that gentleman's settee. It was unfortunately true
that some of those common people treated Mr. Spokesly, not as a
commander _in posse_, not as one of those select beings born to rule,
but as one of themselves. Mr. Chippenham remembered with pain one
incident which showed this only too clearly. They were watching a
destroyer coming into port, her decks lined with bluejackets, her three
funnels belching oil-smoke, her semaphore working. As she swung round
astern of them, Mr. Spokesly, who had been pacing to and fro paring his
nails, joined the little group at the rail, nodding in majestic
approval.

"Ah," he remarked in his loose-lipped, husky drawl, "I sh'd l