"Always excepting Central Africa and the two poles," said the captain.
"I said civilised quarters," retorted Sam, "and, as far as I know, the poles are inhabited only by bears."
"True, I forgot, the poles are barely civilised," said uncle Rik.
"Now, Master Sammy," growled a deep voice from the adjoining galley, "you keep your hands out o' that copper."
"Fasser," shouted a silvery voice from the same region, "'Tumps is naughty. I wants to wass my hands in de soup, an' he won't let me."
"Quite right. Keep him in order, Stumps," said the unfeeling Sam, senior.
"Dere—pa says. I 's kite right, an' to keep you in order, 'Tumps," said the silvery voice. (Then, after a few minutes), "Grunkle Rik, is you finish bekfist?"
"Ay, ay, Sunbeam, quite finished."
"Den come on deck an' p'ay vid me."
Uncle Rik rose with a laugh, and obediently vent on deck to play. But the play did not last long, for that day ominous clouds rose in the west, and, overspreading the sky, soon drenched the little yacht with rain. Towards evening the rain ceased, but the wind increased to a gale, and the weather showed signs of becoming what is known among
