VI
THE OPENING OF HOSTILITIESWhen I came on deck the next morning we were driving down-channel before a smart northwest wind. The sky was blue overhead; the low rollers were just capped with foam; the air was clean and tangy; the brownish, salt-stained canvas shone in the sunlight; the cordage hummed and droned.
Murray stood by the weather rail with the n***o, Tom, at his elbow. As I emerged from the companionway Tom leaned forward and whispered something to his master. Murray walked straight across the deck to my side, his eyes fastened upon my face.
"How now, Master Juggins," he said heartily, his hand outstretched, "and did you leave your good uncle—or is it cousin?—well!"
I perceived that he took me for the lout I was dressed to represent, and strove to play up to the disguise.
"
