"What is it, Symons?" asked Mr. Powell.

"I was only wondering where this 'ere gentleman 'ad gone to, sir. He

slipped past me upstairs, sir."

I felt mighty uncomfortable.

"That's all right, Symons. I know the gentleman," says Mr. Powell as

serious as a judge.

"Very well, sir. Of course, sir. I saw the gentleman running races all

by 'isself down 'ere, so I . . ."

"It's all right I tell you," Mr. Powell cut him short with a wave of his

hand; and, as the old fraud walked off at last, he raised his eyes to me.

I did not know what to do: stay there, or clear out, or say that I was

sorry.

"Let's see," says he, "what did you tell me your name was?"

"Now, observe, I hadn't given him my name at all and his question

embarrassed me a bit. Somehow or other it didn't seem proper for me to

fling his own name at him as it were. So I merely pulled out my new

certificate from my pocket and put it into his hand unfolded, so that he

could read Charles Powell written very plain on the parchment.

"He dropped his eyes on to it and after a while laid it quietly on the

desk by his side. I didn't know whether he meant to make any remark on

this coincidence. Before he had time to say anything the glass door came

open with a bang and a tall, active man rushed in with great strides. His

face looked very red below his high silk hat. You could see at once he

was the skipper of a big ship.

"Mr. Powell after telling me in an undertone to wait a little addressed

him in a friendly way.

"I've been expecting you in every moment to fetch away your Articles,

Captain. Here they are all ready for you." And turning to a pile of

agreements lying at his elbow he took up the topmost of them. From where

I stood I could read the words: "Ship Ferndale" written in a large

round hand on the first page.

"No, Mr. Powell, they aren't ready, worse luck," says that skipper. "I've

got to ask you to strike out my second officer." He seemed excited and

bothered. He explained that his second mate had been working on board

all the morning. At one o'clock he went out to get a bit of dinner and

didn't turn up at two as he ought to have done. Instead there came a

messenger from the hospital with a note signed by a doctor. Collar bone

and one arm broken. Let himself be knocked down by a pair horse van

while crossing the road outside the dock gate, as if he had neither eyes

nor ears. And the ship ready to leave the dock at six o'clock to-morrow

morning!




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