“I shall be delighted, sir,” said Mackeller. “You see, I feel just a little uncertain about the wisdom of leaving Captain Wilkie unprotected with what is, after all, a strange crew. Their captain gives them a good character, but Captain Wilkie, who is a martinet in his way, may get at loggerheads with them, so it is well that he should have a bloodthirsty commander and irresistible force at his beck and call. But remember, Peter, that for every sailor you shoot, one of your gamekeepers must take to the sailoring trade, which might turn out inconvenient in a storm, so repress your war spirit until the captain orders it to belch forth. I imagine your frowning appearance as, resembling the German Emperor, you walk the deck, will quell any incipient mutiny in the bud, if buds are quelled. Nevertheless, it is safer to hold the rifles in the background in case of an emergency. So call for six volunteers from among my men, and then fling your trunk aboard the lugger, after which it will be good-by till I meet you again at Plymouth.” When the exchange was completed the white yacht drew away from the tramp and speedily disappeared to the north like a ghost. Captain Wilkie watched her departure with regret, and was unhappy at his promotion to the unkempt and dirty tramp steamer, with her slouching crew, dressed like scarecrows. The new commander of the yacht felt equally out of place in this trim, scrupulously clean, nickel-plated, bride’s-cake of a ship, while the sailors, in their spick-and-span natty uniforms, gave him the impression of being in a nightmare where an uncouth private had been placed in charge of a company of officers. As he was about the same size as Wilkie, the useful Ponderby, at Stranleigh’s orders, fitted him out next morning in a gorgeous uniform which added to the beauty of his outward appearance without materially augmenting his inward comfort. However, the bluff captain understood his business, no matter what costume he wore, and Stranleigh, studying him very unobtrusively as the voyage went on, came to place a great confidence in him, and felt rather ashamed of the distrust that had caused him to transfer the captain from the _Rajah_ to the yacht. Before a week was past, he was certain that this gruff sea dog would have taken the _Rajah_ direct to Plymouth once he had given his word, quite as faithfully as Captain Wilkie was doing. Although Stranleigh said nothing of this trust, and even doubted if the simple old man had seen the reason of the change, he nevertheless resolved to make amends, though not in words. The weather throughout had been almost obtrusively gentle, and Stranleigh complained that the voyage was falsifying all of Clark Russell’s novels. He grumbled to the doctor that his faith in Clark Russell was undergoing a tremendous strain.