"I--I'm afraid I was too hasty," observed Mr. Ellery thoughtfully.
"Perhaps it would have been wiser not to have done it."

"Perhaps 'twould. Yes, I wouldn't wonder a mite."

"It will be talked about some, I suppose. Don't you think so?"

"Some, yes."

"I'm afraid some of my own people may think it queer."

"Queer! Say, Mr. Ellery, you remind me of a half-breed Portugee
feller--half Portugee and a half Indian--that went to sea with my
father, back in the old days. He hardly ever spoke a word, mainly
grunted and made signs. One day he and another fo'mast hand went aloft
in a calm to do somethin' to the tops'l. The half-breed--they called him
Billy Peter and he always called himself that--was out on the end of
the yard, with his foot on the rope underneath, I forget the name of it,
when the tarred twine he had for a shoe string caught. Tryin' to get
it loose it broke sudden, his shoe pulled off, he lost his balance and
fell. He grabbed at the yard, saved himself for a second, fell again,
grabbed the next yard, then a rope and so on down, grabbin' and pullin'
all the way. First his shoe hit the deck, then his sheath knife, then
a piece of rope, and finally himself, landin' right on top of the Irish
cook who was goin' aft from the galley with father's dinner.

"There was the greatest racket you ever heard, pans fallin', dishes
smashin', men yellin', and the cook swearin'. Father run on deck,
thinkin' the ship was dismasted. He found the cook and Billy Peter