The one fly in his amber these days was Andy Black; only Andy was not a
fixed object. His activities were endless, and, strangely enough, they
exerted a powerful influence on Percival, causing him to change his
entire mode of life from his hour of getting up to his hour of retiring.
In order to get half an hour's conversation with Bobby Boynton it was
necessary to outwit Andy, and he was devoting himself assiduously to
the task.
What complicated the matter was that Andy had embraced him in his
general affection for humanity, and despite persistent snubbing
continued to treat him as the friend of his bosom. Percival could hate
him contemptuously when he was out of sight, but he found it difficult
to keep up the dislike when the fat, boyish fellow sat on the sofa
opposite his berth and poured out his innermost confidences.
"You see," he would say plaintively as he reached for Percival's silver
shoe-horn, "I never slide into love, like most fellows. I always splash
right in, head first. That's what I did the first night I came on board,
and I haven't come up yet. When I do, she'll hit me in the head. She
won't have me; you see if she does."
Of course Percival agreed with him, but in the meanwhile he wondered
what Bobby could find in him to afford her such constant amusement.
One sparkling morning when the white caps were dancing on the blue
water, and every bit of loose canvas was spanking the wind for joy,
Bobby announced that she was going again to the crow's-nest.
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