Luke. Just Luke. I didn’t know much about him, what I did know I didn’t altogether like. But, as I say, he was a handy man. One of those chaps who can drive an engine or trim a sail. He knew something about navigation. Said he had a mate’s certificate, but I never saw it, and never had any reason to believe anything he said. Anyhow, being in a bit of a hole I took his word for it, and first mate he was appointed.
Some little time after he’d come aboard I was sitting in my cabin, feeling, as usual, like murder or suicide, when there was a tapping at the door. It was Luke.
“Beggin’ pardon, captin, but can I have a word with you?”
“Have two.”
He had three—and more. He stood, looking at me in the furtive, sneaking way he always had, twiddling his cap with his fingers like a forecastle hand.
“Excuse me, captain, but I don’t fancy as how you’ve been overmuch in luck this trip.”
“My dear Mr. Luke, whatever can have caused you to imagine a thing like that?”
“Well—it’s pretty obvious, ain’t it?”
He grinned. I could have broken his head.
“Is it for the purpose of imparting that information that I am indebted to the pleasure of your presence here?”
“Well no; it ain’t.” He scraped his jaw with his hand, as if to feel if it wanted shaving, which it did. “The fact is, I shouldn’t be surprised if you chanced upon a bit of luck still, if you liked.”
“If I liked! You’re a man of humour.”
“It’s this way.” He hesitated, as if doubtful as to the advisability of telling me which way it was. “It all depends upon whether you’d care to run a trifle of risk.”
“After what I’ve gone through it’d have to be a
