"Give this to the skipper, will you, my lad?" said the sergeant, holding
up the jacket Bligh had left behind. "Good-looking young man with a very
fine moustache he is."

[Illustration: "Give this to the skipper, will you, my lad?" said the
sergeant.]

"Was," said his daughter, in a mournful voice.

"And a rather dark complexion," continued the sergeant, grinning madly.
"I was going to take him--for stealing my coal--but I thought better of
it. Thought of a better way. At least, my daughter did. So long;
Darkie."

He kissed the top of a fat middle finger, and, turning away, walked off
with Miss Pilbeam. The skipper stood watching them with his head
swimming until, arrived at the corner, they stopped and the sergeant came
slowly back.

"I was nearly forgetting," he said, slowly. "Tell your skipper that if
so be as he wants to apologize--for stealing my coal--I shall be at home
at tea at five o'clock."

He jerked his thumb in the direction of Miss Pilbeam and winked with slow
deliberation. "She'll be there, too," he added. "Savvy?"