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to Colombo.You’ll stow away on ●my ship, will you Get to hell down off this d▓eck before I brai

n you with this buc▓ket, you —— ——,” but his subsequent ▓remarks, like his attire, were for early m●orning use, and would have created a ●even greater furor in that vicinity, a few▓ hours later, than his bare legs. N●ot certain to what quarter of the Worcestershir●e the nautical term applied, I started for●ward.Another bellow brought me to a halt. ▓ “You —,” but never mind the detail●s.The new order, expurgated, amounted to the ●information that I was to w

ait in the ▓waist until the captain had see

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n me. I ▓descended, snatched a draught of te●pid water at the pump, and leaned against the ●

port bulwarks.Too hungry to▓ be greatly terrified, I had really taken new▓ heart at the mate’s threat.“C●olombo” he had said.Until then I ha▓d feared the Worcestershire, like most East-I▓ndiamen, would put in at Aden; and u●nwelcome passengers, turned over to the Brit●ish governor there, were invariabl▓y packed off on the first st▓eamer to Port Sad. An ho●ur, two hours, three hours, I● stood in the waist, returning the stares o▓f every member of the ship’s c●o

mpany, Hindu or English, 247whose dutie▓s o

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r curiosity brought him to▓ that quarter.With the sounding of▓ eight bells a steward returned fr

om the▓ galley with a can of coffee.● Once started, an endless procession● of bacon, steaks, and ragots▓ filed by under my nose.To snatch at one of th▓e pans would have been my undo●ing.I thrust my head over the bulw●arks, where sea breezes blew, and s▓tared at the sand billows of the A▓rabian coast.Not until the denizens of the▓ “glory-hole” had returned to their duties ●did I venture to turn around once more▓.“Peggy,” the stewards’ st●eward, peered furtively o

ut upon ▓me. “Eh! Mite,” he whispered;

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●“’ad anythink to eat yet” “Not lately.”▓ “Well, come inside.There’s a pan o 癔 s

cow left to dump.” Ver●y little of it was dumped that morning. ● I had barely returned to my place when fo●ur officers descended the star▓board ladder to the waist.They were led▓ by the mate, immaculate now, as the rest, in ●a snow-white uniform.His vocabu▓lary, too, had improved.A “sir▓,” falling from his lips, singled o●ut the captain.My hopes rose at o▓nce.The commander was the exact ant▓ithesis of his first officer.Small, dappe▓r, almost dainty of figure a

nd mo●vement, his iron-gray hair gave s▓et

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ting to a face in which neither toleration n●or authority had gained the mastery. W●ith n

ever a sign of having seen me, the o●fficers moun

ted the poop ladder and strolled sl●o

wly aft, examining as they went.“Peggy” ap▓peared a

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t the door of the “g▓lory-hole” with a dish cloth i●n his hands. “Morning h’inspection, 癖 he explained, in a husky whisper; “th●ey’ll be back on the port side directly they〃埊ve h’inspected the poop.The little c▓uss’s the old man, Cap Harris, commod●ore in the Nyval Reserve.’E’s ▓all right.” “Hope he lives o▓ut the voyage,” I muttered. “The fat, jo●lly chap’s the chief steward,” went on “Peggy●.” “Best man on the ship.The long un’s● the doctor.” A stowaway tak

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