looked very smart, very gentlemanly, and all that. But do you
know--I never liked him, somehow. I am a plain man. You see, he
wasn't exactly the sort for the chief mate of a ship like the
Sephora."

I had become so connected in thoughts and impressions with the
secret sharer of my cabin that I felt as if I, personally, were
being given to understand that I, too, was not the sort that would
have done for the chief mate of a ship like the Sephora. I had no
doubt of it in my mind.

"Not at all the style of man. You understand," he insisted,
superfluously, looking hard at me.

I smiled urbanely. He seemed at a loss for a while.

"I suppose I must report a suicide."

"Beg pardon?"

"Suicide! That's what I'll have to write to my owners directly I
get in."

"Unless you manage to recover him before to-morrow," I assented,
dispassionately. . . "I mean, alive."

He mumbled something which I really did not catch, and I turned my
ear to him in a puzzled manner. He fairly bawled:

"The land--I say, the mainland is at least seven miles off my