who remained in the position of her father's hireling; she would surely
be ashamed of a lover who was willing to hump his back and take a
lashing in public. His desire to be with her, even at the cost of his
pride, was making him less a man and he knew it. He decided to
face Marston, man fashion, and then go away. He felt that she would
understand in spite of her grief.

Then, turning from a look at the compass, he saw that the yacht's owner
was on the bridge. Half of an un-lighted cigar, which was soggy with the
dampness of the fog, plugged Marston's-mouth.

He scowled when the captain saluted.

"You needn't bother to talk now," the millionaire broke in when
Mayo began an explanation of his delay in obeying the call to the
quarter-deck. "When I have anything to say to a man I want his undivided
attention. Is this fog going to hold on?"

"Yes, sir, until the wind hauls more to the norrard."

"Then anchor."

"I am heading into Saturday Cove now, sir."

"Anchor here."

"I'm looking for considerably more than a capful of wind when it comes,
sir. It isn't prudent to anchor offshore."

Marston grunted and turned away. He stood at the end of the bridge,
chewing on the cigar, until the _Olenia_ was in the harbor with mudhook
set. Mayo twitched the jingle bell, signaling release to the engineer.

"I am at your service, sir," he reported, walking to the owner.

Marston rolled the plugging cigar to a corner of his mouth and inquired,
"Now, young man, tell me what you mean by saluting a Bee line steamer
with my whistle?"

"I did not salute the _Conomo_, sir."

"You gave her three whistles."

"Yes, but--"

"You're on a gentleman's yacht now, young man, and not on a
fishing-steamer. Yachting etiquette doesn't allow a steam-whistle to
be sounded in salute. Mr. Beveridge has just looked it up for me, and I
know, and you need not assume any of your important knowledge." Marston
seemed to be displaying much more irritation than a small matter
warranted. But what he added afforded more light on the subject. "The
manager of the Bee line was on board that steamer. You heard him hoot
that siren at me!"

"I heard him give me cross-signals in defiance of the rules of the road,
sir."

"Didn't you know that he whistled at me as an insult--as a sneer?"

"I heard only ordinary signals, sir."

"Everything is ordinary to a sailor's observation! You allowed him to
crowd you off your course. You made a spectacle of my yacht