Mr. Burns had gone ashore after the evening meal to have, as he said, “a look round.”  As it was quite dark when he announced his intention I didn’t ask him what it was he expected to see.  Some time about midnight, while sitting with a book in the saloon, I heard cautious movements in the lobby and hailed him by name.

Burns came in, stick and hat in hand, incredibly vulgarised by his smart shore togs, with a jaunty air and an odious twinkle in his eye.  Being asked to sit down he laid his hat and stick on the table and after we had talked of ship affairs for a little while: 

“I’ve been hearing pretty tales on shore about that ship-chandler fellow who snatched the job from you so neatly, sir.”

I remonstrated with my late patient for his manner of expressing himself.  But he only tossed his head disdainfully.  A pretty dodge indeed:  boarding a strange ship with breakfast in two baskets for all hands and calmly inviting himself to the captain’s table!  Never heard of anything so crafty and so impudent in his life.

I found myself defending Jacobus’s unusual methods.

“He’s the brother of one of the wealthiest merchants in the port.”  The mate’s eyes fairly snapped green sparks.

“His grand brother hasn’t spoken to him for eighteen or twenty years,” he declared triumphantly.  “So there!”

“I know all about that,” I interrupted loftily.

“Do you sir?  H’m!” His mind was still running on the ethics of commercial competition.  “I don’t like to see your good nature taken advantage of.  He’s bribed that steward of ours with a five-rupee note to let him come down—­or ten for that matter.  He don’t care.  He will shove that and more into the bill presently.”

“Is that one of the tales you have heard ashore?” I asked.

He assured me that his own sense could tell him that much.  No; what he had heard on shore was that no respectable person in the whole town would come near Jacobus.  He lived in a large old-fashioned house in one of the quiet streets with a big garden.  After telling me this Burns put on a mysterious air.  “He keeps a girl shut up there who, they say—­”

“I suppose you’ve heard all this gossip in some eminently respectable place?” I snapped at him in a most sarcastic tone.

The shaft told, because Mr. Burns, like many other disagreeable people, was very sensitive himself.  He remained as if thunderstruck, with his mouth open for some further communication, but I did not give him the chance.  “And, anyhow, what the deuce do I care?” I added, retiring into my room.

And this was a natural thing to say.  Yet somehow I was not indifferent.  I admit it is absurd to be concerned with the morals of one’s ship-chandler, if ever so well connected; but his personality had stamped itself upon my first day in harbour, in the way you know.

After this initial exploit Jacobus showed himself anything but intrusive.  He was out in a boat early every morning going round the ships he served, and occasionally remaining on board one of them for breakfast with the captain.