dispatched orders to Mr. Pike, the first mate of the Elsinore, to
knock out the partition between my state-room and the spare state-
room adjoining. Further--and here is where my dislike for Captain
West began--he informed me that if, when once well at sea, I should
find myself dissatisfied, he would gladly, in that case, exchange
quarters with me.

Of course, after such a rebuff, I knew that no circumstance could
ever persuade me to occupy Captain West's brass bed. And it was this
Captain Nathaniel West, whom I had not yet met, who had now kept me
freezing on pier-ends through four miserable hours. The less I saw
of him on the voyage the better, was my decision; and it was with a
little tickle of pleasure that I thought of the many boxes of books I
had dispatched on board from New York. Thank the Lord, I did not
depend on sea captains for entertainment.

I turned Possum over to Wada, who was settling with the cabman, and
while the tug's sailors were carrying my luggage on board I was led
by the pilot to an introduction with Captain West. At the first
glimpse I knew that he was no more a sea captain than the pilot was a
pilot. I had seen the best of the breed, the captains of the liners,
and he no more resembled them than did he resemble the bluff-faced,
gruff-voiced skippers I had read about in books. By his side stood a
woman, of whom little was to be seen and who made a warm and gorgeous
blob of colour in the huge muff and boa of red fox in which she was
well-nigh buried.

"My God!--his wife!" I darted in a whisper at the pilot. "Going
along with him? . . . "