"How about the owners ?" "O, you leave that to me; I'm one of Longhurst's crowd, you know," said Jim, with sudden bristling vanity.

"Any man that's good enough for me, is good enough for them." "Who are they ?" asked Nares.
"M'Intyre and Spittal," said Jim.
"O, well, give me a card of yours," said the captain: "you needn't bother to write; I keep M'Intyre and Spittal in my vest-pocket." Boast for boast; it was always thus with Nares and Pinkerton--the two vainest men of my acquaintance.

And having thus reinstated himself in his own opinion, the captain rose, and, with a couple of his stiff nods, departed.
"Jim," I cried, as the door closed behind him, "I don't like that man." "You've just got to, Loudon," returned Jim.

"He's a typical American seaman--brave as a lion, full of resource, and stands high with his owners.

He's a man with a record." "For brutality at sea," said I.
"Say what you like," exclaimed Pinkerton, "it was a good hour we got him in: I'd trust Mamie's life to him to-morrow." "Well, and talking of Mamie ?" says I.
Jim paused with his trousers half on.