It was afternoon, and the short winter day was already drawing towards a close.

The shipping looked cold and desolate in the greyness, but a bustle of work prevailed on the Conqueror, which was nearly ready for sea again.

The captain's gaze wandered from his old craft to the small vessels dotted about the harbour and finally dwelt admiringly on the lines of the whaler Seabird, which had put in a few days before as the result of a slight collision with a fishing-boat.

She was high out of the water and beautifully rigged.

A dog ran up and down her decks barking, and a couple of squat figures leaned over the bulwarks gazing stolidly ashore.
There was something about the vessel which took his fancy, and he stood for some time on the edge of the quay, looking at her.