“There’s no witnesses,” the sailor said in a half-cringing, half-defiant manner.

“Oh yes, there are,” Ezra Girdlestone remarked, coming into the room.  He had been standing between the two doors which led to the counting-house, and had overheard the latter portion of the conversation.  “Don’t let me interrupt you.  You were saying that you would blacken my father’s character unless he increased your salary.”

“I didn’t mean no harm,” said Captain Hamilton Miggs, glancing nervously from the one to the other.  He had been fairly well known to the law in his younger days, and had no desire to renew the acquaintance.

“Who painted out those Plimsoll marks?” asked the merchant.

“It was me.”

“Did any one suggest it to you?”

“No.”

“Shall I send in the policeman, sir?” asked Gilray, opening the door.

“Ask him to wait for a moment,” Girdlestone answered.

“And now, captain, to return to the original point, shall we dry dock the Black Eagle and reduce the salary, or do you see your way to going back in her on the same terms?”

“I’ll go back and be damned to it!” said the captain recklessly, plunging his hands into the pockets of his pea jacket and plumping back into his chair.

“That’s right,” his grim employer remarked approvingly.

“But swearing is a most sinful practice.  Send the policeman away, Ezra.”

The young man went out with an amused smile, and the two were left together again.

“You’ll not be able to pass the Government inspector unless you do something to her,” the seaman said after a long pause, during which he brooded over his wrongs.

“Of course we shall do something.  The firm is not mean, though it avoids unnecessary expense.  We’ll put a coat of paint on her, and some pitch, and do up the rigging.  She’s a stout old craft, and with one of the smartest sailors afloat in command of her—­for we always give you credit for being that—­she’ll run many a voyage yet.”

“I’m paid for the risk, guv’nor, as you said just now,” the sailor remarked.  “But don’t it seem kind o’ hard on them as isn’t—­on the mates an’ the hands?”

“There is always a risk, my dear captain.  There is nothing in the world without risk.  You remember what is said about those who go down to the sea in ships.  They see the wonders of the deep, and in return they incur some little danger.  My house in Eccleston Square might be shaken down by an earthquake, or a gale might blow in the walls, but I’m not always brooding over the chance of it.  There’s no use your taking it for granted that some misfortune will happen to the Black Eagle.”

The sailor was silenced, but not convinced by his employer’s logic.  “Well, well,” he said sulkily, “I am going, so there’s an end of it, and there’s no good in having any more palaver about it.  You have your object in running rotten ships, and you make it worth my while to take my chances in them.  I’m suited, and you’re suited, so there’s no more to be said.”