“Suppose you thought I wasn’t coming,” he said, suspiciously.

“No, I knew you would.”

“Glad to see me for my own sake?” suggested the captain, grimly smiling.

“Yes, it always does one good to see a man,” answered Prince Martin.

“They tell me you’re a prince.”

“That is all.”

The captain measured him slowly with his eyes.

“Makings of a man as well, perhaps,” he said, doubtfully.  Then he turned to cast an eye over the Olaf.

“Tin-kettle of a thing!” he observed, after a pause.

“My little cargo won’t be much in her great hold.  Hatches are too small.  Now, I’m all hatch.  Can’t open up in this weather.  We can turn to and get our running tackle bent.  It’ll moderate before the evening, and if it does we can work all night.  Will your Rile Highnes’ be ready to work all night?”

“I shall be ready whenever your High Mightiness is.”

The captain gave a gruff laugh.

“Dammy, you’re the right sort!” he muttered, looking aloft at the rigging with that contempt for foreign tackle which is essentially the privilege of the British sailor.

Cable gave certain orders, announced that he would send four men on board in the afternoon to bend the running tackle “ship-shape and Bristol fashion,” and refused to remain on board the Olaf for luncheon.

“We’ve got a bit of steak,” he said, conclusively, and clambered over the side into his boat.  In confirmation of this statement the odor of fried onions was borne on the breeze a few minutes later from the small steamer to the large one.

The men from Sunderland came on board during the afternoon—­men who, as Captain Cable had stated, had only one language and made singularly small use of that.  Music and seamanship are two arts daily practised in harmony by men who have no common language.  For a man is a seaman or a musician quite independently of speech.  So the running tackle was successfully bent, and in the evening the weather moderated.

There was a half-moon, which struggled through the clouds soon after dark, and by its light the little English steamer sidled almost noiselessly under the shadow of her large companion.  Captain Cable’s crew worked quickly and quietly, and by nine o’clock that work was begun which was to throw a noose round the necks of Prince Bukaty, Prince Martin, Captain Petersen, and several others.

Captain Cable divided the watches so that the work might proceed continuously.  The dawn found the smaller steamer considerably lightened, and her captain bright and wakeful at his post.  All through the day the transshipping went on.  Cases of all sizes and all weights were slung out of the capacious hatches of the one to sink into the dark hold of the other vessel, and there was no mishap.  Through the second night the creaking of the blocks never ceased, and soon after daylight the three men who had superintended the work without resting took a cup of coffee together in the cabin of the Olaf.