PROLOGUE 3

"All right."

"You com' 'ere, Misdair Colsbee? You stay 'ere?"
The second mate liked to air his English and had not
had much opportunity of doing so during the voyage.

"Yes, I stay here/' replied Mr. Golspie, for that was
the name the second officer was trying to pronounce.
"That is," he boomed, as an afterthought, "if there's
anything doing."

"You leef 'ere, in Lon-don?" pursued the other, who
had missed the force of the last remark.

"No, I don't. I don't live anywhere. That's me."
And Mr. Golspie said this with a kind of grim relish,
as if to suggest that he might pop up anywhere and that
when he did, something or somebody had better look
out. He might have been one of the quieter buccaneers
sailing into harbour.

Then, nodding amiably, he stepped forward,looked up
and down the wharf again, and returned to the saloon,
where he took a cigar from the box the captain had
bought at the entrance to the Kiel Canal, and helped
himself to a drink from one of the many bottles that
overflowed from the sideboard to the table. It had been
a convivial voyage. Mr. Golspie and the captain were
old acquaintances who had been able to do one another
various good turns. The captain had promised to make
Mr. Golspie very comfortable, and one way of making
Mr. Golspie very comfortable was to lay in and then
promptly bring out a sound stock of whisky, cognac,
vodka, and other liquors. There had been nothing one-
sided about this arrangement, for the captain had been
able to keep pace with his guest, even though his pro
gress had not had the same steady dignity. The captain,
who had once served in the Russian Imperial Navy and