national customs in food, and also in their mode of life generally. Of
course the extremes of climate have to be considered, but all their
homes preserve their British atmosphere.

The _Claverhouse_ had nearly completed loading, and the kindly
emissaries of her captain had reported nothing of a disturbing
character, until one morning a steamer came in and was moored
alongside the _Claverhouse_. Yaunie was the pilot, and after
completing his work he went aboard the _Claverhouse_ and asked to see
the captain.

"He is not astir yet," said the steward.

"I must speak with him at once," said Yaunie.

The captain, overhearing the conversation, called out, "All right,
come to my room."

"Well, Yaunie, what news this morning?" asked the captain.

"Ah, it is very bad news," replied Yaunie. "That fool Farquarson,"
pointing to where the other steamer lay, "speaks all the time about
what happened when you went from the port without permission. He say
that he was aboard the gunboat asking for a torpedo channel-pilot, and
that he could not get one because they were firing at you all the
time. They asked him the name of the steamer, but he told some other.
I say to him he was wrong, but he say no; and he will jabb, as you
call it."

"Well, Yaunie, what's to be done? What is the remedy?"