told my missus. It would have cheered her up for a week. Never mind.
We've a few minutes in Dover. I'll send her a picture postcard. It'll
'arf tickle 'er to death."

Evidently the captain meant to add certain explanatory remarks which
would account for that Gargantuan tickling. Dick, anxious not to offend
his future commander, smiled sheepishly, and said:

"Sorry I can't supply you with a photograph."

Stump's gaze rested on his stockings, loose breeches, Norfolk jacket
and deerstalker cap.

"Damme," he grinned, "it's better than a pantomime. Second mate! Is
there any more like you on the train? P'haps that chap in the next
caboose, in a fur coat an' top hat, is the steward. An' wot'll Tagg
say?"

"I don't know," said Dick, half inclined to resent this open scorn.
"Who is Tagg, anyhow?"

Stump instantly became silent. He seemed to remember his "sailing
orders." He muttered something about "playin' me for a sucker," and
shut his lips obstinately. Not another word did he utter until they
reached Dover. He smoked furiously, gave Royson many a wrathful glance,
but bottled up the tumultuous thoughts which troubled him. On board the
steamer, however, curiosity conquered prudence. After surveying Dick's
unusual proportions from several points of view, he came up and spoke
in what he intended to be a light comedy tone.