"Yes, with Jacobus," I answered carelessly. "I understand he's the
brother of Mr. Ernest Jacobus to whom I have an introduction from
my owners."

I was not sorry to let him know I was not altogether helpless in
the hands of his firm. He screwed his thin lips dubiously.

"Why," I cried, "isn't he the brother?"

"Oh, yes. . . . They haven't spoken to each other for eighteen
years," he added impressively after a pause.

"Indeed! What's the quarrel about?"

"Oh, nothing! Nothing that one would care to mention," he
protested primly. "He's got quite a large business. The best
ship-chandler here, without a doubt. Business is all very well,
but there is such a thing as personal character, too, isn't there?
Good-morning, Captain."

He went away mincingly to his desk. He amused me. He resembled an
old maid, a commercial old maid, shocked by some impropriety. Was
it a commercial impropriety? Commercial impropriety is a serious
matter, for it aims at one's pocket. Or was he only a purist in
conduct who disapproved of Jacobus doing his own touting? It was
certainly undignified. I wondered how the merchant brother liked
it. But then different countries, different customs. In a
community so isolated and so exclusively "trading" social standards
have their own scale.