Besides, if the boys were going to run off with the belts some damned first-class passenger was likely to get a cabin minus a belt and might write to the management.  The line had had bad luck; it did not want another black eye.  He cleared his throat; the Red Un dropped a fork.

“That sort of thing last night won’t do, William.”

“N-No, sir.”

“Ye had seen the signs, of course?”

“Yes, sir.”  The Red Un never lied to the Chief; it was useless.

The Chief toyed with his kipper.

“Ye’ll understand I’d ha’ preferred dealin’ with the matter mysel’; but it’s—­gone up higher.”

The Quartermaster, of course!  The Chief rose and pretended to glance over the well soundings.

“The four of ye will meet me in the Captain’s room in fifteen minutes,” he observed casually.

The Captain was feeding his cat when the Red Un got there.  The four boys lined up uncomfortably; all of them looked clean, subdued, apprehensive.  If they were to be locked up in this sort of weather, and only three days to sailing time—­even a fine would be better.  The Captain stroked the cat and eyed them.

“Well,” he said curtly, “what have you four young imps been up to now?”

The four young imps stood panicky.  They looked as innocent as choir boys.  The cat, eating her kipper, wheezed.

“Please, sir,” said the Captain’s boy solicitously, “Peter has something in his throat.”

“Perhaps it’s a ship’s lifebelt,” said the Captain grimly, and caught the Chief’s eye.

The line palpitated; under cover of its confusion the Chief, standing in the doorway with folded arms, winked swiftly at the Captain; the next moment he was more dour than ever.

“You are four upsetters of discipline,” said the Captain, suddenly pounding the table.  “You four young monkeys have got the crew by the ears, and I’m sick of it!  Which one of you put the fish in Mrs. Schmidt’s bed?”

Mrs. Schmidt was a stewardess.  The Red Un stepped forward.

“Who turned the deckhose into the Purser’s cabin night before last?”

“Please,” said the Doctor’s boy pallidly, “I made a mistake in the room.  I thought——­”

“Who,” shouted the Captain, banging again, “cut the Quartermaster’s rope two nights ago and left him sitting under the dock for four hours?”

The Purser’s boy this time, white to the lips!  Fresh panic seized them; it could hardly be mere arrest if he knew all this; he might order them hanged from a yardarm or shot at sunrise.  He looked like the latter.  The Red Un glanced at the Chief, who looked apprehensive also, as if the thing was going too far.  The Captain may have read their thoughts, for he said: 

“You’re limbs of Satan, all of you, and hanging’s too good for you.  What do you say, Chief?  How can we make these young scamps lessons in discipline to the crew?”

Everybody breathed again and looked at the Chief—­who stood tall and sandy and rather young to be a Chief—­in the doorway.