hold on," said Nares. "There's another point. I heard some talk
about a supercargo."

"That's Mr. Dodd here, my partner," said Jim.

"I don't see it," returned the captain drily. "One captain's enough for
any ship that ever I was aboard."

"Now, don't you start disappointing me," said Pinkerton, "for you're
talking without thought. I'm not going to give you the run of the books
of this firm, am I? I guess not. Well, this is not only a cruise, it's a
business operation, and that's in the hands of my partner. You sail that
ship, you see to breaking up that wreck and keeping the men upon the
jump, and you'll find your hands about full. Only, no mistake about one
thing; it has to be done to Mr. Dodd's satisfaction, for it's Mr. Dodd
that's paying."

"I'm accustomed to give satisfaction," said Mr. Nares, with a dark
flush.

"And so you will here!" cried Pinkerton. "I understand you. You're
prickly to handle, but you're straight all through."

"The position's got to be understood, though," returned Nares, perhaps a
trifle mollified. "My position, I mean. I'm not going to ship
sailing-master; it's enough out of my way already, to set a foot on this
mosquito schooner."

"Well, I'll tell you," retorted Jim, with an indescribable twinkle: "you
just meet me on the ballast, and we'll make it a barquantine."

Nares laughed a little; tactless Pinkerton had once more gained a
victory in tact. "Then there's another point," resumed the captain,
tacitly relinquishing the last. "How about the owners?"

"O, you leave that to me; I'm one of Longhurst's crowd, you know," said
Jim, with sudden bristling vanity. "Any man that's good enough for me,
is good enough for them."

"Who are they?" asked Nares.

"M'Intyre and Spittal," said Jim.

"O well, give me a card of yours," said the captain; "you needn't bother
to write; I keep M'Intyre and Spittal in my vest-pocket."

Boast for boast; it was always thus with Nares and Pinkerton--the two
vainest men of my acquaintance. And having thus reinstated himself in
his own opinion, the captain rose, and, with a couple of his stiff nods,
departed.

"Jim," I cried, as the door closed behind him, "I don't like that man."

"You've just got to, Loudon," returned Jim. "He's a typical American
seaman--brave as a lion, full of resource, and stands high with his
owners. He's a man with a record."

"For brutality at sea," said I.

"Say what you like," exclaimed Pinkerton, "it was a good hour