where Pinkerton lay in a deep trance of sleep on the convertible sofa, and stood in the doorway, in my night gear, to receive our visitors.
Johnson was first, by way of usher, smiling. From a little behind, with his Sunday hat tilted forward over his brow, and a cigar glowing between his lips, Captain Nares acknowledged our previous acquaintance with a succinct nod. Behind him again, in the top of the stairway, a knot of sailors, the new crew of the Norah Creina, stood polishing the wall with back and elbow. These I left without to their reflections. But our two officers I carried at once into the office, where (taking Jim by the shoulder) I shook him slowly into consciousness. He sat up, all abroad for the moment, and stared on the new captain.
“Jim,” said I, “this is Captain Nares. Captain, Mr. Pinkerton.”
Nares repeated his curt nod, still without speech; and I thought he held us both under a watchful scrutiny.
“Oh!” says Jim, “this is Captain Nares, is it? Good-morning, Captain Nares. Happy to have the pleasure of your acquaintance, sir. I know you well by reputation.”
Perhaps, under the circumstances of the moment, this was scarce a welcome speech. At least, Nares received it with a grunt.
“Well, Captain,” Jim continued, “you know about the size of the business? You're to take the Norah Creina to Midway Island, break up a wreck, call at Honolulu, and back to this port? I suppose that's understood?”
“Well,” returned Nares, with the same unamiable reserve, “for a reason, which I guess you know, the cruise may suit me; but there's a point or two to settle. We shall have to talk, Mr. Pinkerton. But whether I go or not, somebody will; there's no sense in losing time; and you might give Mr. Johnson a note,
