ways held a pipe, which he smoked in short, brisk whiffs, as though expecting to be interrupted at any moment by an iceberg.
The steward brought in the tea-tray, and Captain Scottie settled into his large armchair to enjoy it. His eye glanced automatically at the barometer.
“A little wind to-night,” he said, his nose wrinkling unconsciously as the cover was lifted from the dish of hot anchovy toast.
“Yes, sir,” said the steward, but lingered, apparently anxious to speak further.
“Well, Shepherd?”
“Beg pardon, sir, but the Chief Steward wanted me to say they've found someone stowed away in the linen locker, sir. Queer kind of fellow, sir, talks a bit like a padre. 'E must've come aboard by the engine-room gangway, sir, and climbed into that locker near the barber shop.”
The problem of stowaways is familiar enough to shipmasters. “Send him up to me,” said the Captain.
A few minutes later Gissing appeared, escorted by a burly quartermaster. Even the experienced Captain admitted to himself that this was some-
