That must have been how the boss of the old sloop felt about it too; for he don't pay any attention to the howls or threats. He just makes things snug and then goes below and starts pokin' about in his dinky little cabin. Judgin' by the motions, he was gettin' a late supper. Anyway, they couldn't budge him, even though half the club was stewin' about it. And, someway, that seemed to tickle Chunk and me a lot. We watched him spread his grub out on the cabin table, roll up his sleeves, and square away like he had a good appetite, just as if he'd been all by himself, instead of right here in the midst of so many flossy yachtsmen. He even had music to eat by; for part of the programme was the turnin' loose of one of these high priced cabinet disk machines, that was on the Commodore's big schooner, and feedin' it with Caruso and Melba records. There was so much chatterin' goin' on around us on the verandas, and so many corks poppin' and glasses clinkin', that the skipper must have got more benefit from the concert than anyone else. At last he wipes his mouth on his sleeve careful, fills his pipe, and crawls out on deck to enjoy the view. It was well worth lookin' at too; for, although there was most too many clouds for the moon to do much execution, here was all the yachts lighted up, and the clubhouse blazin' and gay, and the water lappin' gentle in between. He gazes out at it placid for a minute or so, and then we see him dive down into the cabin. He comes back with something or other that we couldn't make out, and the next thing I knows I finds myself keepin' time with my foot to one of them lively, swingin' old tunes which might have been "The Campbells Are Coming" or might not; but anyway it was enough to give you that tingly sensation in your toes. And it was proceedin' from the after deck of that old hulk. "Well, well!" says I. "Bagpipes!" "Bagpipes be blowed!" says Chunk. "That's an accordion he's playing. Listen!" Say, I was listenin', and with both ears. Also other folks was beginnin' to do the same. Inside of five minutes, too, all the chatter has died down, and as I glanced around at the tables I could see that whole crowd of fancy dressed folks noddin' and beatin' time with their fans and cigars and fizz glasses. Even the waiters was standin' still, or tiptoin' so's to take it in. Ever hear one of them out-of-date music bellows handled by a natural born artist? Say, I've always been partial to accordions myself, though I never had the courage to own up to it in public; but this was the first time I'd ever heard one pumped in that classy fashion. Music! Why, as he switches off onto "The Old Folks at Home," you'd thought there was a church organ and a full orchestra out there! Maybe comin' across the water had something to do with it; but hanged if it wa'n't great! And of all the fine old tunes he gave us--"Nellie Gray," "Comin' Through the Rye," "Annie Laurie," and half a dozen more.