"Cert'nly not," said the mate, plucking up courage. "Why should I? If
you like to take a night off it's nothing to do with me. I 'ope I know
my duty better. I don't know what you're talking about."

"And the police haven't been watching the ship and inquiring for me?"
asked the skipper.

The mate shook his bewildered head. "Why should they?" he inquired.

The skipper made no reply. He sat goggle-eyed, staring straight before
him, trying in vain to realize the hardness of the heart that had been
responsible for such a scurvy trick.

"Besides, it ain't the fust time you've been out all night," remarked the
mate, aggressively.

The skipper favored him with a glance the dignity of which was somewhat
impaired by his complexion, and in a slow and stately fashion ascended to
the deck. Then he caught his breath sharply and paled beneath the
coaldust as he saw Sergeant Pilbeam standing on the quay, opposite the
ship. By his side stood Miss Pilbeam, and both, with a far-away look in
their eyes, were smiling vaguely but contentedly at the horizon. The
sergeant appeared to be the first to see the skipper.

"Ahoy, Darkie!" he cried.

Captain Bligh, who was creeping slowly aft, halted, and, clenching his
fists, regarded him ferociously.