The Merle was at anchor off Plymouth.

By the round brass ship's clock placed over the passageway door, in the saloon, Jerry could see that it was a little after ten o'clock. The yacht had come to anchor in the small hours, and the gentlemen had in consequence slept late. The dull light of an English morning in September came through the big skylight, and showed the captain, the mate, and Mr. Wrenmarsh lingering over their breakfast.

"On my word, Mr. Wrenmarsh," said Tab, "we'll be sorry to lose you. You've been aboard so long and your"—he almost blurted out "eccentricities," but fortunately had the unusual luck to stop in time to substitute a better word—"your—er—conversation has such—er—has been so very entertaining, that is, that we're sure to miss you."

"Ah, well," said the collector, "I'm in hopes that you've improved so much by contact with me that you'll be able to entertain each other."

"Wouldn't you like to take passage across?" suggested Jack.

"Your rates are too high," the other rejoined grimly. "Gonzague, 'n' altro bicchier' d' aqua fresca."

The old steward, who had come in while Jerry was speaking, served the archÆologist with the ready alacrity which marked all he did, and then departed with a handful of dishes.

"Why do you always speak to Gonzague in Italian?" inquired Jerry. "You said yesterday that you always had a reason for everything you do."

"Oh," the guest returned, fixing his eyes not on the questioner but on the ceiling above him, "I speak to him in Italian because he understands it."

"But he isn't an Italian," Tab objected.

"No, but then I'm not either."

"But he understands English, French, and Spanish, for the matter of that," Jerry persisted.

Whenever Wrenmarsh began to talk in this whimsical fashion, Taberman had always a teasing desire to push him into a corner.

"Ah, but, my dear fellow," Wrenmarsh replied, unaccountably addressing Jack, and making his words seem more distraught by one of his most earnest, almost burning glances, "I do not speak Spanish, you see."

"Then why not French or English?"

"Because they're so different," returned the collector.

"Why, what rot!" Jerry burst out rudely; then as usual he added apologetically, "I beg your pardon, but I'm afraid I don't follow you."

"Oh, no; I suppose not," Mr. Wrenmarsh rejoined with much sweetness. He rose, and with an entire change of manner, added briskly, "Well, I'm ready. As I wish to catch the eleven thirty-four for London, we must make haste; otherwise I shouldn't have time to take Mr. Castleport to the bank, and settle my financial obligations. Can we get ashore?"

"Yes," answered Jack, rising also. "The cutter's ready, and your boxes are on board. By the by, you said you'd tell me how you dodge—pardon the word, we use it on the other side—the customs."

"Simplest thing in the world," returned Wrenmarsh, lighting a cigarette. "Address my boxes to a good friend of mine in the British Museum. They go through the customhouse as things for the museum, you know."

"Does your friend do that sort of thing as a business?" inquired Jerry with a laugh. "I wish you'd give me his name, so I could come that game."

"His name is Gordon Wrenmarsh," said the collector quietly; "but his charges are high. Shall we go?"

"Yes," Jack responded. "It is high time we were off. I'm not anxious to speed the parting guest, but a good send-off means an early start."

Jerry left his place, and the three went on deck. The cutter, already manned, was by the steps. The bleak English air struck chill and raw to these men fresh from the warm sunshine of the Mediterranean. The harbor and sound, crowded with shipping as they were, seemed flat and dull; the Citadel, the Battery, the various docks and buildings were depressing. A great volume of dun coal-smoke overhanging the "Three Towns," from the Hamoaze to Sutton Pool, added to the general air of gloom. To cap all this, the fog was coming in from seaward, and already its ghostly echelons had floated past the north end of Drake Island. As the three men came on deck the cutter was bobbing up and down in the wash of the ferry which plies to and fro across the Cattewater, and which had just gone heavily past.

"Dear England!" ejaculated Mr. Wrenmarsh fervently under his breath in the face of all this. Then turning to Taberman, "You're not coming ashore with us?"

Jerry shook his bare head, and gave an exaggerated shiver for reply.

"No?" the collector said. "Well, we'll say good-by here, then. Lucky we met, wasn't it? Those combinations—they make the world go round; stop it sometimes. Good-by. Pity, great pity, you weren't at Oxford, Mr. Taberman. It would have done you good, made a man of you."

"Not if Harvard's failed to," retorted Jerry loyally. "Good-by, and good luck. Hope we'll meet again some day."

They shook hands, and Mr. Wrenmarsh and Jack descended to the waiting cutter.

"Adio, Signor'," called out old Gonzague, who was standing by the main-rigging.

"A riverderla forse" returned the collector from the stern-sheets of the cutter.

"Il mondo È piccolo, Signor'. Spero," answered the ProvenÇal.

"Oars!" cried Jack. "Bear away,—let fall,—ready,—pull." And the cutter bore away the strange collector toward the shore of his adopted country.

Jerry watched the boat for a moment, his big heart not untouched by a sympathetic friendliness for the lonely man, whose life seemed to him so warped and melancholy. He half expected Wrenmarsh to look back to nod or to wave his hand, but the collector's eyes were turned steadily to the shore. It was chill on deck, and Tab went below.

Gonzague was just taking away the last of the breakfast things. He set his tray on the table, and approached the mate deferentially.

"Mistaire Taberman, sair," he said, putting his hand in his pocket, and drawing out a small square blue box and a note, "Mistaire Wrainmairsh he geeve me de box and de lettair—also a crown in extrair dat I geeve dem to you when he have leef."

"Eh? what?" asked Jerry. "Oh, I see. Thank you."

He sat down on the port transom, and opened the box. It contained a small object carefully wrapped in tissue paper. He unfolded the paper, and between his fingers a gold finger-ring slipped on to the green corduroy cushion of the transom.

"Great Scott!" he ejaculated. Then he picked it up and examined it carefully.

In a thin band of red gold was set a carnelian of beautiful tone, the color of a red hyacinth blossom. The stone was oval, cut with an exquisite design in intaglio. It represented a god holding a trident in his left hand, and on his right a small winged figure. His right foot rested on a stone, and he was gazing at the figure he held. The gem was inscribed with the Greek letters ??? [Greek: LIL].

Jerry tore open the note. It read as follows:—

Really, my dear fellow, had you viewed me more as a friend and less as a curiosity, you might have found it to your advantage. But to the point. I hope you will wear the ring in memory of our little escapade. The figure represents Poseidon, holding a victoriole in his hand; and is, as the letters signify, designed to commemorate the naval victory of LilybÆum (Capo Boao), in which some of the original wearer's ancestors (more likely pretended than real) were evidently supposed to have taken part. Of course the wearer, though not the cutter, was a Roman; but you won't mind that. Not a bit. So no one gets hurt—your arm, you know—in my behalf without cause to remember the fact—pleasantly. The stone is by no means the best that I obtained, but it seemed appropriate. Poseidon with a victoriole—usually an attribute of Zeus Soter (see your FurtwÄngler's A. G.)—is rare enough to give the thing value.

With merriment,
Wrenmarsh.

"By Jove!" cried Jerry to himself, gloating over the ring, "what a calf I was to that—that white man! By Gad, though, he was a stunner, and no mistake!"

He slipped the gold band on his finger. After a time of admiration he took a book from the shelf, and tried to read; but every minute or two he stopped to look again at the jewel.

He had not turned many pages when he heard a boat alongside, and a strange voice hailing.

"Hallo," he thought. "I wonder what that is. It can't be the port officer; we satisfied him at daybreak."

He tossed aside his book, and went on deck. A shabby jolly-boat was lying alongside. Jerry noted instantly and with consternation that she was manned by six men in uniform, in charge of a burly old fellow liberally adorned with brass buttons and gold braid, who looked to be every inch a sea-dog. At a second glance Tab decided that these men were not government employees, such as coast-guards, but belonged to some sort of a company. With one stunning blow, sudden as the bursting of a waterspout, the truth flashed over him; at the last, at the very last, when they had escaped so long that they had practically ceased to think of the danger, the agent of Lloyd's was upon them.

"Hello there, what d'ye want?" called out the man doing anchor-watch.

"Captain aboard?" demanded the burly officer in charge.

"No," answered the hand suspiciously. "What will you have?"

"I want to see the officer in charge, my spruce little sea-cook," returned the big man genially; and the grating of the steps being handy, without further ceremony he came aboard.

The sailor keeping the deck, although of a slow and plodding disposition, might have resented the coolness of the stranger, had Jerry given him time; but with a commendable promptness and a sinking heart the mate advanced. He told Jack afterward that he felt as if he were leading a forlorn hope, and had not the remotest idea of what he had better do or say.

"I am in charge here," he said in a perfectly neutral voice. "What do you want?"

"You are Captain Castleport?" inquired the big man, giving Jerry a keen glance not without a suspicion of kindly humor.

He was a fine, strapping creature of perhaps forty-five or fifty, with fair hair, and a large bushy beard tawny as a lion's mane.

"Captain Castleport is ashore, sir. I am the mate."

"Mr. Taberman, eh?" asked the other. "May I see you in private for a minute or two, sir? I'm Lloyd's deputy inspector for Plymouth. I've been hunting about in the fog for you these thirty minutes past. I thought you were nigh out o' the Cattewater, over toward the Hoe."

"Will you come below?" said Jerry grimly.

Inwardly he groaned for the arrival of Jack. This was a task he felt himself unable to deal with. Had the emergency called simply for physical powers or for manual dexterity, the chances were large that he could rise to the occasion; but in a pass where the demand was for mental adroitness and nimble wits, Jerry knew the captain to be infinitely his superior. He determined to devote himself to gaining time, and to refrain from committing himself until his comrade should come aboard.

Jerry escorted the burly guest to the cabin without further speech, and turned to ask him to be seated. The visitor at once drew over his jovial face like a veil a serious expression, and regarded Taberman with the greatest gravity. Unbuttoning the top of his serge jacket, he thrust his hand into an inner pocket as if it were a dip-net, and brought it up again full of dismally official-looking documents.

"This is bad business, sir," he remarked, eyeing the mate as if to be sure he was producing a proper impression.

"Eh?" ejaculated Jerry, trying to look like consolidated innocence.

"P'haps you'll be so good's to look these through, sir," the Englishman went on, proffering his batch of papers.

"Are they for me or the captain?" asked Taberman, fencing to gain time.

"Why, as to that," the official replied, "I expect what they contain's ekally to your int'rest and 'is."

"Sit down, please," Jerry said, with a confused wave of the hand, which seemed to invite the visitor to occupy all the seats in the cabin at once. "You may be right, but I shouldn't want to look any important papers over until the captain'd seen them."

"Oh, that don't matter," the other said easily, as he settled himself in a chair. "I don't think you 'ave any cause to mind, sir. You represent 'im aboard."

"Yes," Jerry returned, obstinately determined that nothing should make him go through the papers without Jack; "but if you're not too much pressed for time, I'd much rather wait for the captain. He'll be here presently."

"Why, sir, for the matter o' that, I dunno's I've much to 'urry me this mornin'; an' I must say I'd rather like a look at 'im. 'E must be a rare one."

"Then," Jerry said, with infinite relief, "we'll wait till he gets aboard."

He rang, and Gonzague appeared. The old ProvenÇal stood stroking his mustache and watching the Englishman furtively out of the corners of his eyes, as if he appreciated the situation and hoped to have orders to assist in throwing him overboard. The glance of the bluff Briton at the same time lighted up in evident anticipation that the appearance of the steward meant refreshments.

"Gonzague, I'll have a little Scotch and soda. Will you take a glass of anything, sir?"

"Why, sir, seein' 's I 'ave to wait a bit, I'm not strong agin a finger or two."

"What will you have?" asked Jerry, enormously relieved to get on ground so safe as that of playing the host.

"I like red rum 's well 's most, sir," replied the other, his jolly eyes twinkling. "It's sort o' oilin' to the in'ards."

They were soon served, and Gonzague, on leaving the cabin, placed the spirits and a siphon in most engaging proximity to the guest. Time passed in the exchange of more or less nautical chit-chat for half an hour or so; when, to the great comfort of Jerry, who had been listening with one ear to the talk of his companion and with the other for the coming of the captain, Jack's hail sounded outside. Jerry, listening acutely, heard Castleport pause on deck, and at the companion-way caught a syllable or two in the unmistakable tones of Gonzague, so that he apprehended that the captain would come to the interview forewarned.

The captain came briskly into the cabin, his blue pea-jacket beaded with little globules of moisture from the fog, his hair damp and clinging to his temples.

"Hallo, Tab," he said. "The fog's as thick as it was the night we started. Ah!"

The exclamation cleverly conveyed the impression that he perceived the guest for the first time, and apologized for not being prepared to meet him.

"Jack, this is Lloyd's deputy inspector, Mr. ——?" Jerry began, and stopped with an interrogative inflection.

"My name, sir, 's Tom Mainbrace."

"Mr. Thomas Mainbrace," Jerry concluded his presentation. "Mr. Mainbrace, Captain Castleport."

"Pleased to know ye, cap'n," the Englishman said cheerfully, as Jack bowed. "Yes, sir; I'm Lloyd's deputy inspector."

"I saw your boat alongside," Jack returned pleasantly. "We haven't any deputies aboard that need inspecting, though."

"'Aven't ye?" the visitor asked, his eyes twinkling so that the laugh with which he followed his words seemed a sort of overflow of their merriment. "I kind o' thought there might be a deputy owner or som'thin' o' the sort 'ere."

Jack apparently tried to look grave, but ended by grinning in spite of himself. He put out his hand and laid his fingers on the papers.

"You have business with us?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. The mate 'ere, 'e said 'e 'd rather not begin on it till you come aboard, sir."

"Quite right," Jack responded quietly. "Shall I read these papers?"

"Yes, if ye'll be so good, sir," Mr. Mainbrace said seriously, and not without a trace of regret in his jovial, weather-beaten face.

The captain seated himself with deliberation, and began to read; the Englishman applied himself afresh to his glass, and Taberman watched closely for a lead. Jerry was not clear what line was to be taken in this difficult situation, and was keenly anxious to back up the captain in any way possible. To his surprise Jack began first to smile, then to grin; from that to chuckle gleefully, and at last he broke out into full-throated laughter.

"By Jove!" he cried, striking his knee with the hand that held the papers. "But that is one on Uncle Randolph, and no mistake!"

The deputy inspector looked up with an expression of bewilderment, and Jerry felt that he was no more enlightened as to what Jack had in mind than was the guest.

"What is it?" Tab asked.

"Oh, we're run down at last! Think of our being nabbed at the last moment, when we've done all we wanted to with the yacht!" And he fell to laughing again, as if being caught red-handed in a pirated yacht were the merriest jest in the world.

Taberman was still completely bewildered, but he at least perceived that Jack was bound to carry off the matter with laughter; and by way of assisting as well as he could, he began also to laugh. He took the papers, and glanced at them enough to see that one was a letter from Lloyd's, containing a notification of the Merle's disappearance, with a description of the yacht and a specification of her captors; the other a warrant for search and apprehension. He followed Jack's lead, and if his efforts did not ring as true, he at least made more noise.

"That's rich!" he roared. "Ha! Ha! Ha!"

He thrust the papers back to the captain, who tossed them on the table, and both together they broke out afresh.

"Excuse our laughing," Jack said, turning to the inspector, who gazed from one to the other as if he thought they had gone mad; "but really it's too ripping!"

"Ain't ye the parties?" demanded the official sternly.

"Oh, we're the parties all fast enough; but—Well, now, look here. This yacht belongs to my uncle, you see."

"Yes, sir," replied the honest Mainbrace, evidently puzzled, as he would have put it, to make out the other's numbers, but still Britannically deferential to the nephew of a man who was able to own a yacht such as the Merle.

"Well, you see, I ran away with her because he wouldn't let me come across, and he's had no good of her the whole summer. From your papers I judge he looked for me on the other side six weeks before he notified you at all. You see how much of the summer that leaves him; and now, just as I'm starting to carry her back as fast as the wind will take her, you step in and stop us."

"Why, ye see, sir," began the inspector, evidently endeavoring to accommodate himself to the new light thrown by the captain on the situation, "the fact is 'e says 'e wants 'er in a 'urry."

"He won't get her, then," Jack said with a grin. "By the time you've red-taped her, and charged for her, and negotiated her, and sent her over with a hired crew, it'll be December at the very earliest—to say nothing of the twenty or thirty pounds he'll have to pay you and the cost of the crew you send her over by. It is hard lines for Uncle Randolph."

"It is so," Jerry agreed, fervently glad to be at last in possession of the way Jack meant to work.

"I'm really sorry for Uncle Randolph," Jack continued, sobering down. "But then, he might have trusted me to bring the Merle back."

"Ye ain't takin' it too much to 'eart, are ye, sir?" queried the big Englishman, with a look so humorous and quizzical that Jerry was seized by a dreadful suspicion that the twinkling eyes saw through the whole scheme of bluff.

"Not I," Jack assented blithely; "though of course I'd rather have taken the yacht home myself. What's the next move? Do you put us in irons, or hang us to the crosstree-ends?"

"Why, they sent word from Lloyd's," replied Mainbrace, with the unmistakable grin of a man who regards himself as a humorist, "that the owner said not to be too 'ard on ye. I expect 't'll be no worse nor transportation for life." Then he put on a graver and more professional look, and added, "I'm afraid we'll 'ave to be more serious, sir. Will ye kindly show me your papers and the log? I suppose you 'ave 'em 'andy."

"Certainly," the captain said, also assuming an official air. "Jerry, will you give the inspector the papers? I'll get the log."

The examination of the papers was a short matter, and then they took up the log. It was at once evident that the Englishman had a keen curiosity to discover what the young men had been doing with the Merle, and that he was no less eager in his interest in all things nautical. Jerry sat by in almost open-mouthed admiration to see how the captain took advantage of both these characteristics. Jack could be most attractive, and from the start it was evident that he was doing his best to please Mr. Mainbrace. He explained all the manoeuvres of that memorable night when the Merle had been spirited away in the fog, while the jolly face of the deputy inspector became more and more radiant with each new development of the story. The charts were produced, each detail of seamanship carefully brought out, and the whole episode lived over again. Jack warmed to his subject as he went on; Jerry threw in a word now and then when the captain in his eagerness seemed in danger of forgetting to mention some detail; the Englishman listened with chuckles and with laughter which soon came to be devoid of the slightest pretense of official dignity; and, in a word, the three became as merry and companionable over the log as if they were all pirates together. Mainbrace had been a sailor and a mate in his day, and showed the keenest zest for every nautical experience. There is no surer bond of comradeship than mutual love of the sea; and despite differences of race, age, and social position, Jack, Jerry, and the deputy inspector fraternized over the Merle's log as only sailors can.

The log-book was read to the last entry. Over the account of the gale the yacht had encountered on her way across the Atlantic Mainbrace became as excited as if he had had a personal stake in the safety of the Merle. His ejaculations became more and more emphatic and more and more picturesque, and his rejoicing over the safe weathering of the storm almost as fervid as if he had been in it himself. The race at Nice Jack told of with as little reflection on the unsportsmanlike conduct of Lord Merryfield as was possible; but the jovial countenance of Mainbrace darkened, and he expressed an opinion of the absent nobleman which was sufficiently tonic to satisfy even Taberman. Jack said afterward that by the time they got through the log a quotation from "Horatius" popped into his head, and he came very near breaking out with it:—

To which Jerry replied that he couldn't think of quotations, he was so carried away by the enthusiastic delight of the jolly old inspector and the quaint ways in which it was expressed.

When at last the record was closed, the conversation still at first ran on the cruise, but soon it began to take a turn which made Jerry prick up his ears anew. The inspector remarked, with an exceedingly droll twinkle of his eyes, that duty was duty, but that he would be summarily dealt with if he wouldn't feel bad to have to bear on hard on a couple of fellows that had played the biggest joke he ever heard of in his life, and had carried the whole thing through with so much cleverness and grit. To this Jack responded that he was most appreciative of the kindness of Mr. Mainbrace, but that of course duty was duty—although it would really have been luck for the owner of the Merle, quite as much as for himself and his mate, if the yacht could have gone on her way uninterrupted. To this in turn Mainbrace gave his assent, and went on to say that he must, of course, carry out instructions, and that he was legally empowered to leave a keeper on board until he could come out again to-morrow with directions he expected to receive from London.

"Though I dunno," he added drolly, "'s it's safe to trust a man with ye. Ye're cap'ble o' runnin' off with 'im."

"We might," Jack responded brightly. "I wouldn't be responsible."

"Or we might throw him overboard," suggested Jerry, with the broadest possible grin.

"Most o' my men kin swim some," Mainbrace retorted. "I should 'ave to tell 'im 'f 'e got overboard to tow the yacht in shore."

The jest was not of the first water, but they had got to a merry mood, and it was properly laughed over. Then Mainbrace, in high good humor, went on to say that he'd been so well treated, and he had so enjoyed the log, that he thought on the whole he would not put a man in charge. He added that it was late, and he must be on his way ashore now, but that they might expect him out again to-morrow.

"I'm sorry I 'ave to bother ye, gentlemen," he added, as they went on deck. "I've been to sea myself too many years not to 'ate this bloody red-tape business,—an' they do reel it off by the cable-length when they 'ave 'arf a chance."

The inspector's jolly-boat, the most appropriate of conveyances for the jovial sea-dog, was still alongside. The fog had lightened somewhat, and watery beams of the sun leaked through it overhead. As Mr. Mainbrace was about to descend the steps to the boat, he paused a moment and pulled at his thick beard as if meditating profoundly.

"I'm 'most afraid if you gentlemen took it into your 'eads to give us the slip we shouldn't know it on shore in this 'ere fog," he observed, casting a queer, sidling glance at Jack.

"It is trusting somewhat to luck to leave us," the captain responded coolly, "and I want to say now that I appreciate your kindness in not forcing a keeper on us."

"Well, cap'n," continued the inspector, gazing out over the water with the look of one who has no personal interest in the matter under discussion, "I was goin' to say, if you get a good chance, you'd better shift your berth. You'll find it kind o' snugger ridin' some ways along to the west'ard, I expect. But you know best, o' course. All is, you're in a tightish place here. I alers liked more sea-room myself. Good-day, sir."

"Good-day. Maybe you'll find we've shifted by to-morrow. If we have, it'll be to westward."

"I'll come out to-morrow," said the old sailor in his most official manner. Then he looked from one to the other with his merriest twinkle and an emphatic nod. "Duty is duty," he remarked. "Good-day, sirs."

He turned to descend, but suddenly Jack arrested him.

"Oh, you've forgotten your pipe," he said.

"My pipe?" echoed Mainbrace, stopping short.

"Yes, I'll get it."

The captain dashed into the cabin, and reappeared with a silver-mounted briarwood, colored just enough to suggest a comfortable chimney-corner and a mind at ease.

"You left it on the table," he said, presenting it to the big inspector.

The other took it with an expression queerly compounded of surprise, awkwardness, amusement, and delight.

"Thank ye, sir," he said. "It's 'ansome of you to fetch it up ye'self,—most 'ansome. I'm mortal fond o' that pipe."

He regarded it affectionately a moment, and then stowed it away inside his jacket. Then he turned again to go down to the waiting jolly-boat.

"I'll come out to-morrow," he called up to them. "Duty is duty. Good-day, sirs."

"Good-day," they called in concert; and off went the deputy inspector toward the hardly perceptible shore through the fog.

"By George, he's a brick!" Jack cried.

"Right-o," assented Jerry, "but it took you to cement him."

"Atrocious! If you're going to pun like that you must be taken home to your family at once. 'Duty is duty'! Did you see the solemn wink the old fellow tipped me when he spoke of shifting to westward? I thought I should burst out laughing on the spot, and give the whole thing away. How's the water?"

"Tanks chock-a-block. Gonzague had them filled from the water-boat this morning. Did you get your money?"

"Every pound of it. Wrenmarsh took me to the bank and identified me, and was mighty nice about the whole thing. Provisions are O.K. Off we go. Call the watch."

"Yes, but see my ring first," Tab said, holding it out.

In half an hour the Merle was changing her berth to the westward.