Perrin looked at Mr. Iles and blushed, partly with anger at having to meet the man, partly at the slight put upon them all, upon Olivia even, by Stukeley’s invitation. Mr. Iles for the moment was dashed by the chill of his reception, and awed by the circumstance of the cabin dinner. His thought, for a few chaotic seconds, was what in blazes to do with the napkin. Did it go round the neck, or how? Olivia felt that the coldness of Margaret and Perrin was in some sort a reflection upon her husband; it nettled her to defend Mr. Iles against her will. She guessed that Mr. Iles must be a fine musician, that her husband had discovered his talent, and had decided, it was just like her dear Tom, that his talent made him a fit companion for her. She would talk to Tom about it that night, however, as there might be unpleasantness to them all if Mr. Iles were to be admitted to the cabin even occasionally. Even Mrs. Inigo seemed to be sniffing with contempt. Had she known it, the negro steward was at that instant spreading the news in the round-house, where Sails proposed that the company should go on deck to hear Captain Cammock at the moment of his introduction. Olivia’s reflections lasted for a few seconds. She seemed to pass over the whole situation in an instant of time. Mr. Iles had hardly sat down, hiding his hands below the table, when Olivia, as though divining his thoughts, came to his rescue, by bending forward graciously, taking up her napkin (it was folded in the likeness of a sea-boot), and spreading it, unfolded, upon her lap. Perrin, who was watching her, guessed her intention. His natural kindness gave him a sort of pity for Mr. Iles, whom he judged (from his confusion) to be an unwilling agent. He leaned across towards him, and made some remark likely to put him at his ease. “D’you know whether we’re in soundings yet, Mr. Iles?” “No, sir,” said Mr. Iles. “They won’t make no cast of der lead till der middle watch.” “What sort of a run has it been to-day?” asked Olivia. “It’s been a good run, miss, all right, all right,” he answered, growing confident. “We done seven knots ever since der forenoon.” “Just step forward, Mrs. Inigo,” said Margaret, “and ask Captain Cammock if we shall begin without him?” “I’ll go,” said Perrin. “No. I’ll go, sir,” said Mrs. Inigo. “You look pale, Maggy,” said Stukeley. “Anything wrong?” “Thanks. I’m particularly well. Are you well?” “Very, thanks. You look annoyed about something. Doesn’t he, Iles?” “You don’t look quite right to me, sir,” said Iles. “Really.” “Captain Cammock will be here in a minute, sir.” “Let’s begin,” said Olivia. “I’m hungry.” “Take the cover,” said Margaret. “B’gee, sir,” said Iles. “You don’t know sailors, or you wouldn’t do a ting like that.” “Why shouldn’t I?” said Margaret, hoping to get some scrap of knowledge to atone for his irritation. “Tell me what I’ve done wrong, please?” “Taken der cover off der soup,” said Mr. Iles.