Being urged to look at their beauty I gave them a cold and hostile glance.  Calmly, Jacobus proposed that I should order ten or fifteen tons—­tons!  I couldn’t believe my ears.  My crew could not have eaten such a lot in a year; and potatoes (excuse these practical remarks) are a highly perishable commodity.  I thought he was joking—­or else trying to find out whether I was an unutterable idiot.  But his purpose was not so simple.  I discovered that he meant me to buy them on my own account.

“I am proposing you a bit of business, Captain.  I wouldn’t charge you a great price.”

I told him that I did not go in for trade.  I even added grimly that I knew only too well how that sort of spec. generally ended.

He sighed and clasped his hands on his stomach with exemplary resignation.  I admired the placidity of his impudence.  Then waking up somewhat: 

“Won’t you try a cigar, Captain?”

“No, thanks.  I don’t smoke cigars.”

“For once!” he exclaimed, in a patient whisper.  A melancholy silence ensued.  You know how sometimes a person discloses a certain unsuspected depth and acuteness of thought; that is, in other words, utters something unexpected.  It was unexpected enough to hear Jacobus say: 

“The man who just went out was right enough.  You might take one, Captain.  Here everything is bound to be in the way of business.”

I felt a little ashamed of myself.  The remembrance of his horrid brother made him appear quite a decent sort of fellow.  It was with some compunction that I said a few words to the effect that I could have no possible objection to his hospitality.

Before I was a minute older I saw where this admission was leading me.  As if changing the subject, Jacobus mentioned that his private house was about ten minutes’ walk away.  It had a beautiful old walled garden.  Something really remarkable.  I ought to come round some day and have a look at it.

He seemed to be a lover of gardens.  I too take extreme delight in them; but I did not mean my compunction to carry me as far as Jacobus’s flower-beds, however beautiful and old.  He added, with a certain homeliness of tone: 

“There’s only my girl there.”

It is difficult to set everything down in due order; so I must revert here to what happened a week or two before.  The medical officer of the port had come on board my ship to have a look at one of my crew who was ailing, and naturally enough he was asked to step into the cabin.  A fellow-shipmaster of mine was there too; and in the conversation, somehow or other, the name of Jacobus came to be mentioned.  It was pronounced with no particular reverence by the other man, I believe.  I don’t remember now what I was going to say.  The doctor—­a pleasant, cultivated fellow, with an assured manner—­prevented me by striking in, in a sour tone: 

“Ah!  You’re talking about my respected papa-in-law.”