Crayford laid his hand kindly on Frank's shoulder. Of all the
officers of the _Sea-mew_, Crayford's favorite was Frank.

"Why should it amaze you?" he asked. "What opportunities have you
had of judging? You and Wardour have always belonged to different
ships. I have never seen you in Wardour's society for five
minutes together. How can _you_ form a fair estimate of his
character?"

"I take the general estimate of his character," Frank answered.
"He has got his nickname because he is the most unpopular man in
his ship. Nobody likes him--there must be some reason for that."

"There is only one reason for it," Crayford rejoined. "Nobody
understands Richard Wardour. I am not talking at random.
Remember, I sailed from England with him in the _Wanderer_; and I
was only transferred to the _Sea-mew_ long after we were locked
up in the ice. I was Richard Wardour's companion on board ship
for months, and I learned there to do him justice. Under all his
outward defects, I tell you, there beats a great and generous
heart. Suspend your opinion, my lad, until you know my friend as
well as I do. No more of this now. Give me the dice and the box."

Frank opened his locker. At the same moment the silence of the
snowy waste outside was broken by a shouting of voices hailing
the hut--"_Sea-mew_, ahoy!"