At dinner-time he very nearly wrecked his chance for good and all.
Shortly before noon a diminutive, mild-looking gentleman, noticeable for his childlike manner and a pair of large round spectacles, came alongside the Egeria in a shore-boat. It appeared that he bore a visitor's ticket for the afternoon function and had arrived thus early by invitation of one of the Committee to take a good look over the ship before the proceedings began. Apparently, too, the Committee-man had sent Commander Headworthy no warning—to judge from that officer's wrathful face and the curt tone in which he invited his visitor to luncheon.
The mild-looking gentleman—who gave his name as Harris—declined courteously, averring that he had brought a sandwich with him. The Commander thereupon turned him over to the Second Officer under whose somewhat impatient escort Mr. Harris made a thorough tour of the ship, peering into everything and asking a number of questions. The boys—whom he amused by opening a large white umbrella, green-lined, to shield him from the noonday sun on the upper deck— promptly christened him "Moonface."
This Mr. Harris, still in charge of the Second Officer, happened along the gun-deck as they finished singing "Be present at our table, Lord," and were sitting down to dinner. From their places they marched up one by one, each with his dinner-basin, to have it filled at the head of the table.
"Hallo, you, Andrew!" called out the Second Officer. "Fetch that basin along here. I want the gentleman to have a look at the ship's food."
Link came forward, stretched out a long arm, and thrust the basin under the visitor's nose.
"Perhaps," said he, "the toff would like a sniff at the same time? There's Sweet Williams for a summer's day!"
"There, that'll do, Link! Go to your place, my lad, and don't be insolent," said the Second Officer hastily, with a nervous glance at Mr. Harris.
But Mr. Harris merely blinked behind his glasses.
"Yes, yes, to be sure," he agreed. "Pork is tricky diet in such weather as we're having!"