Bell gave a plethoric chuckle. "'Well,' said I, 'at any rate, you must know your business. It was thick as pea soup.' Says he, waving his fin, 'I can usually find my way around...' And he took a swig of tea. Upon my word, I began to like him. He has only one man; a half-baked Finn with a cleft palate and one eye swung over to port; a warlock, if ever you saw one. The Pilot-fish told me that he found the beggar starving on the beach. Nobody would ship him, he was that rum. These two zanies scarcely ever speak. The Finn lives up forward and only comes aft to handle the boat and valet him. He was ironing his shirt on the fore-hatch while we talked. I asked him to dinner and you'd have thought from his face that I'd suggested our havin' a glass of potassium cyanide together. 'Oh, no ... no ... no ...' says he, takin' a grip of his yellow thatch. Said I: 'What's the matter? I'm not planning to poison you.' He began to spatter out apologies; said that once he had met my household he would not feel at liberty to tag me around, and asked me once more if I was sure that I did not object. 'Follow me to Hades if you like,' said I. 'The sea is free to all, and you never get within half a mile, anyway.' My word, he was so upset he broke his tea-cup against the coamin', and I left him tryin' to swig his tea out of nothin' and bitin' the china ring around his finger. Coming off that evening we passed the Finn. 'Kennybunkport Kennybunkportkennybunkportkennybunkport...' he was patterin' to himself. You see, he'd been ashore to find out our forwarding address. When we reached Kennebunkport sure enough, here was this floatin' bug-house lyin' at anchor and the Pilot-fish refreshin' himself with tea and macaroons. As we rounded up..." His narrative was interrupted by a commotion forward. The men were talking and gesticulating. Out of the galley bounced the cook, a pair of battered glasses in his hand. Up through the pantry hatch popped the steward like a rabbit coming out of his hole, and the girls' maid, a matronly woman, followed him. "Look-a-that!" growled Bell, in disgust. "You'd think the White Squadron was comin' in..." He levelled his glasses at the swimming glare. "Confound him ... it's he ... and Cécile gets into me for ten dollars." Down below a cabin clock rang sharply two bells. "Two bells, sir," said a quartermaster. "Make it so," snapped Bell, for the _Shark's_ routine was strictly naval. Two bells were struck forward, to be followed by a smothered chorus of exultation from the winners of sundry bets. "Silence, there," cried Bell, and added to Wood: "This ship has got to be no more than a bloomin' Grand Stand. That lobster has lost me ten dollars. He must have stopped to fish." Captain Heldstrom started forward, smiling under his grizzled beard. "Win, captain?" snapped Bell. "Fife dollars ... from der cook, zir," answered the captain. "I'm glad it was the cook..." muttered Bell.