"To my knowledge,
he has refused the command of two ships since we both joined the
_Kansas_."
"Home orders!" cried Boyle, who was certainly beyond himself. Probably
he missed his regular vocal exercise owing to lack of a crew. "My
missus says to me, 'You just stick to Captain Courtenay, young
feller-me-lad. He's one of the get-rich-quick sort. P'raps you 'll
learn from him how to dodge Board of Trade inquiries.' You stand on
what I told you, Miss Maxwell. You remember? Commodore! Huh!"
Something must be done to stem the long-pent flood of Mr. Boyle's
gossip. Elsie turned on him desperately.
"How do you expect me to listen to you, and work at the same time?" she
said.
"Sorry," he answered, composing himself to sleep.
Courtenay glanced at the chronometer.
"I must be off," he announced. "Tollemache may need some help with his
bombs, and those Chileans require looking after."
Christobal, too, quitted the chart-room to visit his patients. He had
said very little while he sat there, and Elsie did not know whether to
laugh or cry at the tragic-comedy of her environment.
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