"No. The boat sails ten minutes later."

"Good. I don't cotton on to these blessed trains. Every time they jolt
I fancy we're on the rocks. Give me a ship, an' the steady beat of the
screw, sez I. Then I know where I am."

"I quite agree with you, captain, but you must put up with a fair spell
of railway bumping before you reach Marseilles."

Stump gave him a questioning look. Royson did not resemble the type of
land shark with which he was familiar. Yet his eyes gleamed like those
of a perplexed bull.

"I s'pose you heard my missus an' me talking of Marseilles," he
growled, "but how do you know I'm a captain."

"It is written on your bag."

"Well, my missus wrote that--"

"Moreover," went on Dick, determined to break the ice, "I'm your second
mate."

"Wot?" roared Stump, leaning forward and placing a hand on each knee,
while his fiery glance took in every detail of Royson's appearance.
"You--my--second--mate?"

The words formed a crescendo of contemptuous analysis. But Dick faced
the storm boldly.