"I can promise you that," I attempted to assure him in weak,
sepulchral tones. "And now, if you like, I'll put you ashore in the
small boat. You must be getting chilly in that wet sleeping-suit."
"As a matter of fact I am, and I was wondering if you would not
offer me something to drink."
"You shall have a bottle to take along," I promised, with alacrity,
but he demurred.
"There is no sociability in that. And you seem very lonesome
here--stuck for two more hours at least. Come, Captain, fetch your
bottle and we will share it together."
He got down from the rail, stretched his arms lazily above his head,
and dropped into one of the deck chairs that had been placed aft for
the convenience of my two passengers.
"And cigars, too, Captain," he suggested, with a politeness that was
almost impertinence. "We'll have a cozy hour or two out of this
tedious wait for the tide to lift you off."
I contemplated him helplessly. There was no alternative but to fall
in with whatever mad caprice might seize his brain. If I opposed him,
it would lead to high and querulous words; and the hideous fact of
his presence there--of his mere existence--I was bound to conceal at
all hazards.
"I must ask you to keep quiet," I said, stiffly.
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