Captain MacWhirr had begun by taking off his coat, which he hung on the end of a steam windless embodying all the latest improvements.

“My uncle wrote of you favourably by yesterday’s mail to our good friends—­Messrs. Sigg, you know—­and doubtless they’ll continue you out there in command,” said the junior partner.  “You’ll be able to boast of being in charge of the handiest boat of her size on the coast of China, Captain,” he added.

“Have you?  Thank ’ee,” mumbled vaguely MacWhirr, to whom the view of a distant eventuality could appeal no more than the beauty of a wide landscape to a purblind tourist; and his eyes happening at the moment to be at rest upon the lock of the cabin door, he walked up to it, full of purpose, and began to rattle the handle vigorously, while he observed, in his low, earnest voice, “You can’t trust the workmen nowadays.  A brand-new lock, and it won’t act at all.  Stuck fast.  See?  See?”

As soon as they found themselves alone in their office across the yard:  “You praised that fellow up to Sigg.  What is it you see in him?” asked the nephew, with faint contempt.

“I admit he has nothing of your fancy skipper about him, if that’s what you mean,” said the elder man, curtly.  “Is the foreman of the joiners on the Nan-Shan outside? . . .  Come in, Bates.  How is it that you let Tait’s people put us off with a defective lock on the cabin door?  The Captain could see directly he set eye on it.  Have it replaced at once.  The little straws, Bates . . . the little straws. . . .”

The lock was replaced accordingly, and a few days afterwards the Nan-Shan steamed out to the East, without MacWhirr having offered any further remark as to her fittings, or having been heard to utter a single word hinting at pride in his ship, gratitude for his appointment, or satisfaction at his prospects.

With a temperament neither loquacious nor taciturn he found very little occasion to talk.  There were matters of duty, of course—­directions, orders, and so on; but the past being to his mind done with, and the future not there yet, the more general actualities of the day required no comment—­because facts can speak for themselves with overwhelming precision.

Old Mr. Sigg liked a man of few words, and one that “you could be sure would not try to improve upon his instructions.”  MacWhirr satisfying these requirements, was continued in command of the Nan-Shan, and applied himself to the careful navigation of his ship in the China seas.  She had come out on a British register, but after some time Messrs. Sigg judged it expedient to transfer her to the Siamese flag.

At the news of the contemplated transfer Jukes grew restless, as if under a sense of personal affront.  He went about grumbling to himself, and uttering short scornful laughs.  “Fancy having a ridiculous Noah’s Ark elephant in the ensign of one’s ship,” he said once at the engine-room door.  “Dash me if I can stand it:  I’ll throw up the billet.  Don’t it make you sick, Mr. Rout?” The chief engineer only cleared his throat with the air of a man who knows the value of a good billet.