was just rising--the broad back and red hair of the captain,
and over his shoulder the puma spinning from a tackle rigged on
to the mizzen spanker-boom.

The poor brute seemed horribly scared, and crouched in the bottom
of its little cage.

"Overboard with 'em!" bawled the captain. "Overboard with 'em!
We'll have a clean ship soon of the whole bilin' of 'em."

He stood in my way, so that I had perforce to tap his shoulder
to come on deck. He came round with a start, and staggered back
a few paces to stare at me. It needed no expert eye to tell
that the man was still drunk.

"Hullo!" said he, stupidly; and then with a light coming into his eyes,
"Why, it's Mister--Mister?"

"Prendick," said I.

"Prendick be damned!" said he. "Shut-up,--that's your name.
Mister Shut-up."

It was no good answering the brute; but I certainly did not expect
his next move. He held out his hand to the gangway by which Montgomery
stood talking to a massive grey-haired man in dirty-blue flannels,
who had apparently just come aboard.

"That way, Mister Blasted Shut-up! that way!" roared the captain.