"No can," said the boy, calmly. "All same b'long one missy. Missy b'long
cap'n."

Percival turned impatiently to his valet, who was coming through the
passage.

"Judson, get those things out of the window, and keep them out. Do you
hear?"

"Yes, sir. But where shall I put them, sir?"

"On the floor--in the sea--wherever you like," said Percival, as he
slipped his arms into the top-coat that was being respectfully held
for him.

Once again on deck, he found that the wind had acquired a sudden edge.
The short chop of the waves and scudding of gray clouds indicated that
the customary bit of rough weather after leaving the Golden Gate was to
be expected. Percival was not happy in rough weather. He attributed it
to extreme sensitiveness to atmospheric conditions. Whatever the cause,
the result remained that he was not happy.

The motion of the vessel made him pause a moment. The casual observer
would have said he stopped to cast an experienced eye on a sky that
could not deceive him; but the casual observer does not always know.
It is a long distance between the prow and the stern of an ocean liner,
when the deck is composed of alternating mountains and valleys that one
has to climb and descend. Percival found it decidedly hard going before
he reached his steamer-chair.