shelves were richer in works on tides, soundings and cloud formations than in works of fiction and poetry.
In the beginning the captain had been a little forbidding in manner, and Paul, to his dying day, would not forget the look that had been turned on him when he had so far forgotten himself as to sit on a corner of the bench at the dining-table while the captain regaled the mate with an enthralling yarn. The old man hadn't reprimanded him in words, but had simply stopped talking and waited, in surprise but not anger, and Paul had risen, a wave of shame surging over him. His cheeks burned and his heart had seemed to leap out. The captain had resumed the tale, and Paul had walked quickly from the saloon with his tray, passed the pantry-door, and gained the deck with some confused intention of flinging himself and the crockery into the hissing sea, to perish with the death of his self-esteem. He might grow up to be a criminal and be condemned by his peers, but never again could he experience quite such an overwhelming sense of humiliation as he had been reduced to by that mute reminder of his menial estate. It was the first time he had thought of it as menial, and it had indeed been rendered so by his witless lapse.
A few days later there had been a momentous interview. Running to his cabin with his mind full of some errand, Paul had found the captain examining the big gold watch which for once he had forgotten to conceal. The sight gave him the feeling in his spine that he might have experienced had an umbrella suddenly snapped shut over his head. The old man was staring at the Dutch inscription inside the case as though he were seeing a ghost.
"Where did you get this?" he demanded.
"My father left it to me," Paul confessed, through sheer inability to say otherwise. What excuse could he offer for having it with him, when he had sworn in Hali-
