have you got, Captain?" he inquired with awful directness.

It was my turn to face him squarely. I did so and mentioned the
amount I could dispose of. And I perceived that he was
disappointed. He thought it over, his calculating gaze lost in
mine, for quite a long time before he came out in a thoughtful tone
with the rapacious suggestion:

"You could draw some more from your charterers. That would be
quite easy, Captain."

"No, I couldn't," I retorted brusquely. "I've drawn my salary up
to date, and besides, the ship's accounts are closed."

I was growing furious. I pursued: "And I'll tell you what: if I
could do it I wouldn't." Then throwing off all restraint, I added:
"You are a bit too much of a Jacobus, Mr. Jacobus."

The tone alone was insulting enough, but he remained tranquil, only
a little puzzled, till something seemed to dawn upon him; but the
unwonted light in his eyes died out instantly. As a Jacobus on his
native heath, what a mere skipper chose to say could not touch him,
outcast as he was. As a ship-chandler he could stand anything.
All I caught of his mumble was a vague--"quite correct," than which
nothing could have been more egregiously false at bottom--to my
view, at least. But I remembered--I had never forgotten--that I
must see the girl. I did not mean to go. I meant to stay in the
house till I had seen her once more.

"Look here!" I said finally. "I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll