“You do look funny,” laughed Paul, “and that’s the way I feel. Mother _would_ have a fit if she saw me now,” glancing down at his flannel shirt and heavy trousers and shoes. “Mr. Remington,” he continued, hesitatingly, “I--I want to apologize for what I said about the trunks and cigarettes. I can get on without cigarettes if they’d spoil my shooting.” “That’s all right, Paul. They certainly would spoil your shooting.” Captain Bluntt was in excellent humor when he took his place at the head of the supper table. “So you’re the young rascal,” he said to Paul, “who kept us waiting at Sydney.” “Oh, I guess there wasn’t any great rush,” answered Paul, somewhat nettled. “We’re on a pleasure trip, and not trying to break a record.” Captain Bluntt looked at him curiously for a moment under his shaggy eyebrows. “Not much of a sailor, I guess, youngster. Well, you’ll learn something before you gets home. Got a wonderful lot to learn, too.” Paul flushed angrily, and retorted impudently and boastfully: “Oh, I don’t know. This isn’t my first yachting trip. I know a thing or two about sailing. Captains of yachts don’t usually tell the guests what they’re to do.” “Yacht, eh?” And Captain Bluntt laughed good-naturedly. “Well, well, don’t get grumpy. No offence meant. No doubt you’re a great sailor; you look it. Yes, you look it!” Turning from Paul as from a child whose presence he had quite forgotten, he remarked: “She’s off in fine style, Mr. Remington, fine style! And we’ll make a rare fine run, sir, if the weather holds. Yes, sir, if the weather holds!” “Is there much ice reported off the Labrador coast?” “We’ll meet some ice, sir; bay ice. No trouble with that, sir. Plenty of bergs! Wonderful crop of bergs, sir!” They had finished eating, and Captain Bluntt was striking a match to light one of Remington’s cigars which he had accepted, when strains of music floated down to them. He paused with lighted match in mid air, an ear cocked to one side, his red beard bristling. “By the imps of the sea!” he blurted. “There’s that Dan Rudd with his mouth organ, and I _told_ him to keep un below! The rascal! Wring his neck! Yes, sir, I’ll wring his neck!” and he sprang up as though bent upon carrying his threat into immediate execution. “I rather like it,” remarked Ainsworth. “May he play for us, Captain?” “If you likes un, sir, if you likes un. But I don’t call un playin’, sir; I calls un just pipin’ a racket!” “We would like to hear him,” said Remington. “Suppose we go above.” On deck they found Dan working away with all his will at his harmonica, keeping time with one foot, while a sailor danced a breakdown, and other sailors clapped their hands and encouraged the dancer with: “Go at un, Bill! Go at un, b’y! You’re a spry un, Bill!” Then Dan glimpsed Captain Bluntt, slipped the harmonica into his pocket, and the dancing ceased. “Oh, don’t stop playing--don’t mind us,” encouraged Remington. “We came to listen.”