Supper is set in the after-cabin. It is nine o'clock before the engine
moves. There are few at table. After supper Corkey and Lockwin enter
the forward cabin and take a sofa that sits across the little room.
The sea is rough, but the motion of the boat is least felt at this
place.

Lockwin has the appearance of a man who is utterly unwilling to be
happy. Corkey has regarded this demeanor as a political wile.

"I'll fetch this feller!" Corkey has observed to himself.

But on broaching the question of politics, the commodore has found that
Lockwin is scarcely able to speak. He sinks in profound meditation,
and is slowly recalled to the most obvious matters.

The genial Corkey is puzzled. "He's going to resign, sure. He beats
me--this feller does."

The boat lunges and groans. It lurches sidewise three or four times,
and there are sudden moans of the sick on all sides beyond thin wooden
partitions.

"I bet he gits sick," says Corkey. "Pard, are ye sick now? Excuse me,
Mr. Lockwin, but are ye sick any?"

"No," says Lockwin, and he is not sick. He wishes he were.

"Well, let's git to business, then. You must excuse me, but--"

Corkey is seized with a paroxysm. He gives a screeching sneeze, and