“I know, but I do not intend to have you give occasion even for jokes. Of course, I understand. I know your whims. You are interested, personally, in that gold-braided chap about as much as you would be interested in that brass thing where the compass is--whatever they call it.” “But he's a gentleman!” she cried, her interest making her unwary. “His grandfather was--” “Alma!” snapped Julius Marston. His eyes opened wide. He looked her up and down. “I have heard before that an ocean trip makes women silly, I am inclined to believe it. I don't care a curse who that fellow's grandfather was. _You_ are my daughter--and you keep off that bridge!” The men of business were coming up the companion-way, and she rose and hurried to her stateroom. “I don't dare to meet Nan Burgess just now,” she told herself. “Friendships can be broken by saying certain things--and I feel perfectly capable of saying just those things to her at this moment.” In the late afternoon the _Olenia_, the shore-line looming to starboard, shaped her course to meet and pass a big steamer which came rolling down the sea with a banner of black smoke flaunting behind her. The fog which Captain Mayo had predicted was coming. Wisps of it trailed over the waves--skirmishers sent ahead of the main body which marched in mass more slowly behind. A whistling buoy, with its grim grunt, told all mariners to 'ware Razee Reef, which was lifting its jagged, black bulk against the sky-line. With that fog coming, Captain Mayo needed to take exact bearings from Razee, for he had decided to run for harbor that night. That coastline, to whose inside course Marston's orders had sent the yacht, was too dangerous to be negotiated in a night which was fog-wrapped. Therefore, the captain took the whistler nearly dead on, leaving to the larger steamer plenty of room in the open sea. With considerable amazement Mayo noticed that the other fellow was edging toward the whistler at a sharper angle than any one needed. That course, if persisted in, would pinch the yacht in dangerous waters. Mayo gave the on-coming steamer one whistle, indicating his intention to pass to starboard. After a delay he was answered by two hoarse hoots--a most flagrant breach of the rules of the road. “That must be a mistake,” Captain Mayo informed Mate McGaw. “That's a polite name for it, sir,” averred Mr. McGaw, after he had shifted the lump in his cheek. “Of course he doesn't mean it, Mr. McGaw.” “Then why isn't he giving us elbow-room on the outside of that buoy, sir?” “I can't swing and cross his bows now. If he should hit us we'd be the ones held for the accident.” Again Mayo gave the obstinate steamer a single whistle-blast. “If he cross-signals me again I'll report him,” he informed the mate. “Pay close attention, Mr. McGaw, and you, too, Billy. We may have to go before the inspectors.” But the big chap ahead of them did not deign to reply. He kept on straight at the whistler.