"You'd better have
advice when we get to port, Jack," he said at length; "the last few
weeks I've noticed you've been a bit strange in your manner. You go an'
show that 'ed of yours to a doctor."
The mate grunted, and went on deck for sympathy, but, finding Miss Alsen
in a mood far removed from sentiment, and not at all grateful, drew off
whistling. Matters were in this state when the skipper appeared, wiping
his mouth.
"I've put another portrait on the mantel-piece, Jack," he said
menacingly; "it's the only other one I've got, an' I wish you to
understand that if that only smells mustard, there'll be such a row in
this 'ere ship that you won't be able to 'ear yourself speak for the
noise."
He moved off with dignity as his daughter, who had overheard the remark,
came sidling up to the mate and smiled on him agreeably.
"He's put another portrait there," she said softly.
"You'll find the mustard-pot in the cruet," said the mate coldly.
Miss Alsen turned and watched her father as he went forward, and then,
to the mate's surprise, went below without another word. A prey to
curiosity, but too proud to make any overture, he compromised matters by
going and standing near the companion.
"Mate!" said a stealthy whisper at the foot of the ladder.
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