When Captain Hartup, brusquely aroused from his slumbers, opened his eyes and beheld a tall, yellow-oilskinned figure in his berth, the Book of Job faded instantly from his memory and he scrambled from his bunk with a yell of terror. Then, when Osmond took off his sou’-wester, he recognized his visitor and became distinctly uncivil.
“What the devil do you mean by masquerading in this idiotic fashion?” he demanded angrily. “I don’t want any of your silly schoolboy jokes on this ship, so you please understand that.”
“I came down,” said Osmond, smothering a grin and ignoring the reproaches, “to report progress. I have hove the ship to, but there is no one at the wheel and no look-out.”
The skipper stared at him in bewilderment as he crawled back into his bunk. “What do you mean?” he asked.
