[Illustration: "He pointed to a thin, dismal-looking man."]
"Peter Duckett," said Brisket, in the same satisfied whisper.
Mr. Stobell, ever willing for a free show, stared at the dismal man and
groped in the recesses of his memory. The name seemed familiar.
"The man who ate three dozen hard-boiled eggs in four minutes?" he asked,
with a little excitement natural in the circumstances.
Captain Brisket stared at him. "No; Peter Duckett, the finest mate that
ever sailed," he said, with a flourish. "We're lucky to have the chance
of getting him, I can tell you. To see him handle sailormen is a
revelation; to see him handle a ship----"
He broke off and shook his head with the air of a man who despaired of
doing justice to his subject. "These are the gentlemen, Peter," he said,
introducing them with a wave of his hand.
Mr. Duckett raised his cap, and tugging at a small patch of reddish-brown
hair strangely resembling a door-mat in texture, which grew at the base
of his chin, cleared his throat and said it was a fine morning.
"Not much of a talker is Peter," said the genial Brisket. "He's a doer;
that's what he is-a doer. Now, if you're willing--and I hope you are--
he'll come aboard with us and talk the matter over.
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