“He explained in his sea-English, which is not the English of that mildewed Boarding House in South Kensington.  Bill Figgins had called him a ——­, he had retaliated, and the others had taken a hand, too.”

It is I who suppress the actual words reported by Jaffery.  But, believe me, they were enough to annoy anybody.

“She shouted down the stairway.  ’Here you, Bill Figgins, come on deck for a minute.’

“A lean, wiry, black-looking man-spawn of the Pool of London, emerged.

“‘What’s the matter?’

“Why did you call Petersen a ——?’ she asked pleasantly and word-perfect.

“‘Cos he is one.’

“‘He isn’t,’ said Liosha.  ’He’s a very nice man.  And so are you.  And you both fought fine; I was looking on, and I was mad not to see the end of it.  But Mr. Andrews doesn’t like fighting.  So see here, if you two don’t shake hands, right now, and make friends and promise not to fight again, I’ll not speak a word to either of you for the rest of the voyage.’

“If I had tackled them like this, hefty chap that I am, they would have consigned me to a shambles of perdition.  And if any other woman had attempted it, even our valiant Barbara, they would have told her in perhaps polite, but anyhow forcible, terms to mind her own business.  In either case they would have resented to the depths of their simple souls the alien interference.  But with Liosha it was different.  Of course sex told.  Naturally.  But she was a child like themselves.  She had looked on, placidly, and had caught the flash of knives without turning a hair.  They felt that if she were drawn into a melee she would use a knife with the best of them.  I’m panning out about this, because it seems so deuced interesting and I should like to know what you and Barbara think.  Do you remember Gulliver?  For all the world it was like Glumdalclitch making the peace between two little nine-year-old Brobdingnagians.  The two men looked at each other sheepishly.  Half a dozen grinning heads appeared at the fo’c’sle hatch.  You never saw anything so funny in your life.  At last the lean Bill Figgins stuck out his hand sideways to the Dutchman, without looking at him.

“‘All right, mate.’

“And the Swede shook it heartily, and the grimy hands cried ’Bravo, missus!’ and Liosha, turning and catching sight of me just a bit abaft the funnel beneath the bridge, for the first time, swung up the deck towards me, as pleased as Punch.”

* * * * *

Here is another extract. . . .  Well, wait for a minute.