In very bad English he wanted to know how long the Captain thought it would be before they were rescued, and when he was informed that it might not be for weeks or even months, he cried out in worse English that he was ruined.

He would have to violate his contract! No impressario would think of engaging him again! His wonderful American tour! If he was not rescued within a week--Oh, my God, the consequences! He did not regret the paltry two thousand a week--for thirty weeks--but to violate a contract! Mr.Mott looked rather helpless.

He appreciated the fact that Signor Joseppi was a very great personage, but what was he saying?
Was it--could it be mutiny?
"I'm sorry, Mr.Joseppi," he broke in, "but if Madame Amori is willing to take her regular turn at making up berths, I guess it won't hurt you to help every now and then in the dining-room." Signor Joseppi did not understand a word of it.

He turned to the man at his elbow for enlightenment.
"What did he say ?" he whispered.
"He says you have a perfectly marvellous voice and that he'd give two thousand any time to hear you sing," replied his neighbour in excellent Italian.
Whereupon the Signor favoured the severe-looking Mr.Mott with a beaming smile and as deep a bow as he could make in such close quarters.
"A most courteous officer," he said to his neighbour.

"It will be a joy to serve him, my friend.