to see him."

"The captain," said Senor Perkins, with a bland, forgiving smile and a
slight lowering of his voice, "is, I fear, suffering from an accident
of hospitality, and keeps his state-room. The captain is a good fellow,"
continued Perkins, with gentle enthusiasm; "a good sailor and careful
navigator, and exceedingly attentive to his passengers. I shall
certainly propose getting up some testimonial for him."

"But if he's shut up in his state-room, who's giving the orders?" began
Banks angrily.

Senor Perkins put up a small, well-kept hand deprecatingly.

"Really, my dear boy, I suppose the captain cannot be omnipresent. Some
discretion must be left to the other officers. They probably know his
ideas and what is to be done better than we do. You business men trouble
yourselves too much about these things. You should take them more
philosophically. For my part I always confide myself trustingly to these
people. I enter a ship or railroad car with perfect faith. I say to
myself, 'This captain, or this conductor, is a responsible man, selected
with a view to my safety and comfort; he understands how to procure that
safety and that comfort better than I do. He worries himself; he
spends hours and nights of vigil to look after me and carry me to my
destination. Why should I worry myself, who can only assist him by
passive obedience? Why'--" But here he was interrupted by a headlong
plunge of the Excelsior, a feminine shriek that was half a laugh, the
rapid patter of small feet and sweep of flying skirts down the slanting
deck, and the sudden and violent contact of a pretty figure.