In one quiet corner, behind a laid-up excursion-boat and a file of
North Sea fish-carriers, lay the _Minnie_, painted black, with nothing
brighter than a deep brown on her deck-house, her boats painted a
shabby green. She might have been an overgrown tug or a superannuated
fish-carrier.

Cartoner landed at the Cherry Orchard Pier, and soon found a boatman to
take him to the _Minnie_.

"Just took the skipper on board a few minutes ago, sir," he said. "He
must have come down by the boat before yours."

A few minutes later Cartoner stood on the deck of the _Minnie_, and
banged with his fist on the cover of the cabin gangway, which was
tantamount to ringing at Captain Cable's front door.

The sailor's grim face appeared a moment later, emerging like the face
of a hermit-crab from its shell. The frown slowly faded, and the deep,
unwashed wrinkles took a kindlier curve.

"It's you, Mr. Cartoner," he said. "Glad to see you."

"I was passing in a steamer," answered Cartoner, quietly, "and
recognized the _Minnie_."

"I take it friendly of you, Mr. Cartoner, remembering the rum time
you and me had together. Come below. I've got a drop of wine somewhere
stowed away in a locker."