"Well, you soon will, and I'll tell you why. If you don't get up out of that damned berth you've been roosting in all your life, I'm going to ring for J. B. Midgeley and I'm going to tell him to bring me a bit of dinner in here and I'm going to eat it before your eyes." "But you've had dinner." "Well, I'll have another. I feel just ready for a nice fat pork chop...." "Stop. Stop!" "A nice fat pork chop with potatoes and lots of cabbage," repeated Sam, firmly. "And I shall eat it here on this very lounge. Now, how do we go?" "You wouldn't do that!" said Eustace piteously. "I would and will." "But I shouldn't be any good at the piano. I've forgotten how the thing used to go." "You haven't done anything of the kind. I come in and say, 'Hullo, Ernest!' and you say 'Hullo, Frank!' and then you help me tell the story about the Pullman car. A child could do your part of it." "Perhaps there is some child on board...." "No! I want you. I shall feel safe with you. We've done it together before." "But honestly, I really don't think ... it isn't as if...." Sam rose and extended a finger towards the bell. "Stop! Stop!" cried Eustace Hignett. "I'll do it!" Sam withdrew his finger. "Good!" he said. "We've just got time for a rehearsal while you're dressing. 'Hullo, Ernest!'" "Hullo, Frank," said Eustace Hignett, brokenly, as he searched for his unfamiliar trousers. CHAPTER SIX Ship's concerts are given in aid of the seamen's orphans and widows, and, after one has been present at a few of them, one seems to feel that any right-thinking orphan or widow would rather jog along and take a chance of starvation than be the innocent cause of such things. They open with a long speech from the master of the ceremonies--so long, as a rule, that it is only the thought of what is going to happen afterwards that enables the audience to bear it with fortitude. This done, the amateur talent is unleashed, and the grim work begins. It was not till after the all too brief intermission for rest and recuperation that the newly formed team of Marlowe and Hignett was scheduled to appear. Previous to this there had been dark deeds done in the quiet saloon. The lecturer on deep-sea fish had fulfilled his threat and spoken at great length on a subject which, treated by a master of oratory, would have palled on the audience after ten or fifteen minutes; and at the end of fifteen minutes this speaker had only just got past the haddocks and was feeling his way tentatively through the shrimps. 'The Rosary' had been sung and there was an uneasy doubt as to whether it was not going to be sung again after the interval--the latest rumour being that the second of the rival lady singers had proved adamant to all appeals and intended to fight the thing out on the lines she had originally chosen if they put her in irons.