"Queen," said the skipper simply, "you said a mouthful!"

Twenty minutes later Sam was climbing up the side of the liner as it
lay towering over the tug like a mountain. His clothes hung about him
clammily. He squelched as he walked.

A kindly looking old gentleman who was smoking a cigar by the rail
regarded him with open eyes.

"My dear sir, you're very wet," he said.

Sam passed him with a cold face and hurried through the door leading to
the companion-way.

"Mummie, why is that man wet?" cried the clear voice of a little child.

Sam whizzed by, leaping down the stairs.

"Good Lord, sir! You're very wet!" said a steward in the doorway of the
dining-saloon.

"You _are_ wet," said a stewardess in the passage.

Sam raced for his state-room. He bolted in and sank on the lounge. In
the lower berth Eustace Hignett was lying with closed eyes. He opened
them languidly--then stared.

"Hullo!" he said. "I say! You're wet."