To emphasize his remarks, Boyle blew a big smoke ring, and shot several

smaller rings through it.

Elsie felt Christobal's critical eye on her; she was shading the

outlines of the map, and trusted that her head was bent sufficiently to

hide the tell-tale color which leapt to her face. But Courtenay wished

to hear more of this.

"I hope you do not credit everything my chief officer says about me,"

he said, glancing over her shoulder at the drawing. "Nor about

himself," he added, as she was too busy to look up. "To my knowledge,

he has refused the command of two ships since we both joined the

Kansas."

"Home orders!" cried Boyle, who was certainly beyond himself. Probably

he missed his regular vocal exercise owing to lack of a crew. "My

missus says to me, 'You just stick to Captain Courtenay, young

feller-me-lad. He's one of the get-rich-quick sort. P'raps you 'll

learn from him how to dodge Board of Trade inquiries.' You stand on

what I told you, Miss Maxwell. You remember? Commodore! Huh!"

Something must be done to stem the long-pent flood of Mr. Boyle's

gossip. Elsie turned on him desperately.

"How do you expect me to listen to you, and work at the same time?" she

said.

"Sorry," he answered, composing himself to sleep.

Courtenay glanced at the chronometer.

"I must be off," he announced. "Tollemache may need some help with his

bombs, and those Chileans require looking after."

Christobal, too, quitted the chart-room to visit his patients. He had

said very little while he sat there, and Elsie did not know whether to

laugh or cry at the tragic-comedy of her environment. She was only

certain of one thing--she would like to box Boyle's ears. She was

completely at a loss to account for his persistent efforts to drag in

references to their prior conversation. She dared not catechize him.

That would be piling up more difficulties for the future. But what

possessed him to blurt out such embarrassing details in the presence of

the two men whom she most wished to remain in ignorance of them?

She peeped at Boyle sideways. His eyes were closed, the cigar was

between his teeth, and he had a broad grin on his face. She could not

guess that the once taciturn chief officer of the Kansas was saying

to himself: "My godfather, how Pills glared! There will be trouble on this ship

about a woman before long, or I'm a Dutchman. An' didn't the skipper

rise at the fly, too! Huh!"

He uttered the concluding monosyllable aloud.

"Did you speak?" inquired Elsie, severely.

"Eh? No, Miss Maxwell."

"Oh, I thought you wanted to say something."

"Not a word. Too much talking makes my back stiff."

"Your physical peculiarities are amazing, Mr. Boyle."




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