He went on deck. Shaw approached the table and began to help himself,
handling the bottles in profound silence and with exaggerated caution,
as if he had been measuring out of fragile vessels a dose of some deadly
poison. Carter, his hands in his pockets, and leaning back, examined
him from head to foot with a cool stare. The mate of the brig raised the
glass to his lips, and glaring above the rim at the stranger, drained
the contents slowly.

"You have a fine nose for finding ships in the dark, Mister," he said,
distinctly, putting the glass on the table with extreme gentleness.

"Eh? What's that? I sighted you just after sunset."

"And you knew where to look, too," said Shaw, staring hard.

"I looked to the westward where there was still some light, as any
sensible man would do," retorted the other a little impatiently. "What
are you trying to get at?"

"And you have a ready tongue to blow about yourself--haven't you?"

"Never saw such a man in my life," declared Carter, with a return of his
nonchalant manner. "You seem to be troubled about something."

"I don't like boats to come sneaking up from nowhere in particular,
alongside a ship when I am in charge of the deck. I can keep a lookout
as well as any man out of home ports, but I hate to be circumvented by
muffled oars and such ungentlemanlike tricks. Yacht officer--indeed.
These seas must be full of such yachtsmen. I consider you played a mean