knobbly brow as he read the paper in a low undertone, after the manner of illiterate men.
“And by the way, my man,” began Caradoc in stiff condescension, “we would like one of those cabins to ourselves.”
The mate flung up a club-like head and threw back his blocky shoulders. “My man!” he gasped. “Ye call me my man, ye little cigarette-suckin' silk-hatted Johnny—orderin' private cabins! W'ot ye think this is—a floatin' 'otel?”
Madden bit his lip to keep from smiling at the odd play of anger and surprise on Smith's long expressive face.
“No harm meant, Mr. ——” began the American soothingly.
“Malone—Mate Malone!” stormed the angry officer by way of introduction.
“You understand how friends prefer to bunk together instead of with strangers. We thought we would ask you about it.”
This soothed the irascible fellow somewhat. Still glowering, he spraddled out of the cabin with the boys after him, and presently indicated one of the small temporary cabins with a jerk of
