in the same hand as the one given him by Ralph, and spread them out
together on his knees.

"So," said he, half aloud, while certain hard lines appeared on his
face that changed its entire expression to one of callous severity, "my
good cousin wants me to put this lad through. What is there about the
boy that he dislikes? Well, Theodore has done me more than one good
turn. What is a lad more or less?"

He stared at the wall before him, disclosing in his now widely open
eyes a brightness as of steel, for the feminine softness had vanished
utterly. "Tom Bludson will make him wish he had never been born as
quickly as even Shard could desire. To make sure, we might leave him
behind when we reach the Gold Coast. However, all this can be decided
later."

The captain lighted another cigarette, rang for a mint julep, then
addressed himself to some writing, the materials for which were
scattered about on a table by the window. He wrote several letters,
made out some orders and accounts, smoking the while and sipping his
julep through a long rye straw from time to time.

At last, promptly on the stroke of eleven, appeared a tall, brawny,
mahogany faced seaman, clad in blue flannels of a nautical cut. This
personage pulled off a round, flat, visorless cap, and made a half
military salute upon entering in obedience to the captain's summons.

"That you, Ralph?" said the latter softly but without looking up.
"That's right. Always be prompt, and you will be--a--hello!" raising
his eyes. "What the dev--oh! It's you, is it, Tom?"