d not help saying: "Tell you what, cousin,
if you shoot as straight as you talk, these stewards will come to heel,
no matter what happens."

"Fair shot," admitted Tollemache, and he stalked off to his stateroom,
while the Count was vociferating, for the last time:

Quel bon p'tit roi c'etait la!
La, la!

Between Elsie and de Poincilit the chorus made quite a respectable din.
Few noticed that the saloon main companion had been opened again, until
the sharp bark of a dog joining in the hand-clapping turned every eye
towards the stairway. Captain Courtenay was descending. In front ran
Joey, who, of course, imagined that the plaudits of the audience
demanded recognition. Courtenay had removed his oilskins before
leaving the bridge. His dark blue uniform was flecked with white foam,
and a sou'wester was tied under his chin, otherwise his appearance gave
little sign of the wild tumult without. Joey, on the other hand, was a
very wet dog, and inclined to be snappy. When, in obedience to a stern
command, he ceased barking, he shook himself violently, and sent a
shower of spray over the carpet. Then he cocked an eye at the chief
steward, who represented bones and such-like dainties.

Courtenay, removing his glistening head-gear, advanced a couple of
paces into the saloon. He seemed to avoid looking at any individual,
but took in all present in a comprehensive glance. Elsie, who had
exchanged very few words with him since the first afternoon she came on
board, thought he looked worn and haggard, but his speech soon revealed
good cause for any lack of sprightliness.

"I regret to have to inform you," he said, with the measured
deliberation of a man who has made up his mind exactly what to say,
"that the ship has been disabled by some accident, the cause of which
is unknown at present. The unfortunate result is that she is in a
position of some peril."

There was a sudden stir among the Chilean stewards, whose wits were
sharpened sufficiently to render the captain's statement quite clear to
them. Isobel uttered a little sob of terror, and Mrs. Somerville
gasped audibly, "Oh, my poor children!" Elsie, her lips parted, sat
forward on the piano-stool. Her senses seemed to have become
intensified all at once. She could see everything, hear everything.
Some of the Chileans and Spaniards crossed themselves; others swore.
Count Edouard breathed hard and muttered "Grand Dieu!" She wondered
why the capta