me. It needed no expert eye to tell that the man was still drunk. "Hullo!" said he stupidly, and then with a light coming into his eyes, "Why, it's Mister—Mister———?"
"Prendick," said I.
"Prendick be damned!" said he. "Shut Up—that's your name. Mister Shut Up."
It was no good answering the brute. But I certainly did not expect his next move. He held out his hand to the gangway by which Montgomery stood talking to a massive white-haired man in dirty blue flannels, who had apparently just come aboard. "That way, Mister Blasted Shut Up. That way," roared the captain.
Montgomery and his companion turned as he spoke.
"What do you mean?" said I.
"That way, Mister Blasted Shut Up—that's what I mean. Overboard, Mister Shut Up—and sharp. We're clearing the ship out, cleaning the whole blessed ship out. And overboard you go."
I stared at him dumbfounded. Then it occurred to me it was exactly the thing I wanted. The lost prospect of a journey as sole passenger with this quarrelsome sot was not one to mourn over. I turned towards Montgomery.
"Can't have you," said Montgomery's companion concisely.
"You can't have me!" said I, aghast. He had the squarest and most resolute face I ever set eyes upon.
"Look here," I began, turning to the captain.
"Overboard," said the captain. "This ship ain't
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