As I faced Mr. Mellaire, and talked with him, and smiled, and exchanged amenities, I was aware of the feeling that comes to one in the forest or jungle when he knows unseen wild eyes of hunting animals are spying upon him.  Frankly I was afraid of the thing ambushed behind there in the skull of Mr. Mellaire.  One so as a matter of course identifies form and feature with the spirit within.  But I could not do this with the second mate.  His face and form and manner and suave ease were one thing, inside which he, an entirely different thing, lay hid.

I noticed Wada standing in the cabin door, evidently waiting to ask for instructions.  I nodded, and prepared to follow him inside.  Mr. Pike looked at me quickly and said:

“Just a moment, Mr. Pathurst.”

He gave some orders to the second mate, who turned on his heel and started for’ard.  I stood and waited for Mr. Pike’s communication, which he did not choose to make until he saw the second mate well out of ear-shot.  Then he leaned closely to me and said:

“Don’t mention that little matter of my age to anybody.  Each year I sign on I sign my age one year younger.  I am fifty-four, now, on the articles.”

“And you don’t look a day older,” I answered lightly, though I meant it in all sincerity.

“And I don’t feel it.  I can outwork and outgame the huskiest of the younglings.  And don’t let my age get to anybody’s ears, Mr. Pathurst.  Skippers are not particular for mates getting around the seventy mark.  And owners neither.  I’ve had my hopes for this ship, and I’d a-got her, I think, except for the old man decidin’ to go to sea again.  As if he needed the money!  The old skinflint!”