His purpose of rising appeared to be to light his cigar; but he said: “I want to shake that crowd. They drink too fast for me, and I don’t like the gang.” The man who was in relations to Masson called out: “Are you going, Jensen? Well, don’t forget to send me a handy boy for the cabin, as you promised.” “Who is that?” asked Patsy. “His name is Moore. He is a sort of a hanger-on of Masson, the broker. Don’t know what, exactly. But does things for him.” “What does he want of a handy boy?” “Some one to go as a steward on Masson’s yacht.” “I wish you would get me the job.” “You?” The man called Jensen looked curiously at Patsy for a moment, and then asked: “Do you mean it?” “Sure.” “You would take the place?” “Try me.” “By George! What a go. I’ll try it. Ever had any experience that way?” “I was on the _Gay Flirt_ one season.” “Good.” He called Moore aside and whispered to him a while. Moore came to Patsy, saying in an off-hand way: “My friend backs you for the place. Wages twenty dollars a month and board. Report on board the _Derelict_ off Twenty-third Street, at nine to-morrow morning.” He handed Patsy a slip of paper, on which he had written some words, and went back to his companions. Looking at it, Patsy saw it was an order to the chief steward to put him to work. Hailing the man Jansen, Patsy prepared to leave, but Jansen followed him out to say: “I’d give an old button to know your game. But I’ll wait to hear the story until I meet you again.” Patsy went off with a laugh, and to bed. The next morning, promptly at nine, he reported on the _Derelict_, and was promptly set at work. He was heartily sick of his job before the day was over, for it was hard work he was at, with nothing occurring to relieve the monotony. About six o’clock in the evening the man he had seen the night before waiting for Masson in front of the club house came aboard. Patsy soon learned that he was the sailing-master and he had not been on board long before there were orders to pull up and steam down the river. The yacht was taken around Governor’s Island, into Gowanus Bay, and brought to anchor not far from, but out of the track of boats of, the Thirty-ninth Street Ferry. All things were settled for the night. The next morning there was much work done in preparation of sailing that afternoon with the owner on board. Patsy kept a keen eye open for signs of the things Nick expected to occur, for he felt that whatever did occur must happen before the yacht set sail on its cruise. At twelve o’clock the man who had engaged him as steward the night previous, Moore, appeared on board and entered at once into an earnest talk with the sailing-master. What the subject of their talk was Patsy was unable to discover, although he made all sorts of efforts to get within earshot. Whatever it was, was not to the liking of the sailing-master, for he shook his head doubtfully over what Moore was saying. The other was persistent.