only managed to secure a single two-dollar bill. In a crisis like the one which had so suddenly arisen you cannot do yourself justice with a boat-hook. 

 “Fifty berries!” 

 “Fifty seeds!” the girl assured him. “Are you on?” 

 “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!” 

§ 4

 Sam removed his clinging garments and hurried into a new suit. He was in no mood for conversation and Eustace Hignett’s frank curiosity jarred upon him. Happily, at this point, a sudden shivering of the floor and a creaking of woodwork proclaimed the fact that the vessel was under way again, and his cousin, turning pea-green, rolled over on his side with a hollow moan. Sam finished buttoning his waistcoat and went out. 

 He was passing the inquiry bureau on the C-deck, striding along with bent head and scowling brow, when a sudden exclamation caused him to look up, and the scowl was wiped from his brow as with a sponge. For there stood the 

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