He's ..." the Doctor paused in search of adequate expression, "he's
here. He is, I fancy, at this moment slapping the skipper on the back
and asking him to have a drink. He called me 'old socks.'" The doctor
shuddered. "Then he said he expected this was some mess; Naval messes
were always hot stuff. He wanted to spin me yarns of his infant
excesses, but I choked him off by telling him he ought to report to
the skipper. You'll have to look after him, Pay. That will give you
some honest work for a change."

It must be confessed that at lunch the newcomer justified the Doctor's
worst forebodings. Afterwards the First Lieutenant and the Paymaster
had an earnest colloquy. Then the latter sought his new assistant;
he found him gloomily turning over the pages of a six-months-old
illustrated paper.

"What do you think of the ship?" he asked cheerfully.

"Rotten slow lot," replied the A.P.; "I tried to make things hum a bit
at lunch and they all sat looking like stuffed owls."

"Ah, you'll find it different this evening after the Commander has
gone. Bad form to tell smoking-room yarns while he's here."

Meanwhile the First Lieutenant visited the Commander in his cabin.

"Very well," said the latter on parting; "only mind, no unnecessary
violence."

"I understand, Sir. I hope it won't be necessary."