"I can't blame you."

"You know the courses, and you'll have the same staff as I've had.

You'll find every notation in the log accurate to the yard or the

second. She's a steady old girl and, knowing tide set and courses, as

you do, you can depend on her to the turn of a screw. You have my best

wishes--but I'm done."

He put the fervor of final resolve into the declaration. But, with

sailor's fraternal spirit of helpfulness he sat down and went into

the details of all the Montana's few whims. He called in the mates and

introduced them to the new master. They seemed to be quiet, sturdy men

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who bore no malice because a new policy had put a new man over them.

Then arrived General-Manager Fogg, and in this strictly business

presence Mayo did not presume to voice any of his doubts or his opinion

of his inefficiency.

The rather stiff and decidedly painful ceremony of speeding the former

commander was soon over, and Captain Jacobs departed.

"Why haven't you put on your uniform?" asked Fogg. "You have fixed

yourself out with a new one, of course?"

"Yes, sir." Mayo's cheeks flushed slightly when he recollected how he

had strutted before the mirror in his room at the hotel. But he had been

ashamed to hurry into his gilt-incrusted coat in the presence of Captain

Jacobs.

"Get it on as soon as you can," ordered the general manager. "I want you

to make a general inspection of the boat with me."

They made the tour, and in spite of his misgivings, when he saw the

mists sweeping past the end of the pier Captain Mayo, receiving the

salutes of respectful subalterns, felt the proud joy of one who has at

last arrived at the goal of his ambition.

Master of the crack Montana, queen of the Vose fleet, at the age of

twenty-six!

He glanced into each of the splendid mirrors of the great saloon to make

sure of the gold letters on his cap.

The thick carpet seemed grateful to his step. The ship's orchestra was

rehearsing in its gallery.

If only that devilish fog would lift! But still it surged in from the

sea, and the glass, down to 29.40, promised no clearing weather.

"Safety to the minutest detail--that's my motto," declared Manager Fogg.

"Order a fire drill."

It was accomplished, and Mr. Fogg criticized the lack of snap. He was

rather severe after the life-boat drill, was over. He ordered a second

rehearsal. He commanded that the crew do it a third time. The warmth

of his insistence on this feature of shipboard discipline was very

noticeable.




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