The steward led Cugel to the commodious chamber formerly occupied by Captain Baunt. Cugel looked approvingly here and there. "This will do quite nicely. I particularly like the view from these windows."

Captain Baunt appeared in the doorway. "I trust that all is to your satisfaction?"

"Eminently so. I will be very comfortable here." To Bork Cugel said: "You may serve me a light collation, if you will, as I breakfasted early."

"Certainly, sir; by all means."

Captain Baunt said gruffly: "I ask only that you do not disarrange the shelves. My collection of water-moth shells is irreplaceable and I do not wish my antique books to be disturbed."

"Have no fear! Your belongings are as secure as if they were my own. And now, if you will excuse me, I wish to rest a few hours before inquiring into my duties."

'"Duties'?" Captain Baunt frowned in puzzlement. "What might they be?"

Cugel spoke with dignity. "Soldinck has asked me to undertake a few simple tasks during the voyage."

"Odd. He said nothing about this to me. Bunderwal is the new supercargo and I understand that some weird lank-limbed outlander is to serve as under-worminger."

"I have accepted the post of worminger," said Cugel in austere tones.

Captain Baunt stared at Cugel slack-jawed. "You are the under-worminger?"

"That is my understanding," said Cugel.

Cugel's new quarters were located far forward in the bilges, where the stem-piece met the keel. The furnishings were simple: a narrow bunk with a sackful of dried reeds and a case where hung a few rancid garments abandoned by Wagmund.

By the light of a candle Cugel assessed his contusions. None seemed of a dangerous or disfiguring nature, even though Captain Baunt's conduct had exceeded all restraint.

A nasal voice reached his ears: "Cugel, where are you? On deck, at the double!"

Cugel groaned and limped up to the deck. Awaiting him was a tall fleshy young man with a thick cluster of black curls and small close-set black eyes. This person inspected Cugel with frank curiosity. "I am Lankwiler, worminger full and able, and hence your superior, though both of us serve under Chief Worminger Drofo. He now wishes to deliver an inspirational lecture. Listen carefully, if you know what is good for you. Come this way."

Beside the mast stood Drofo: the gaunt man with dark mahogany beard whom Cugel had noticed on his arrival aboard ship.

Drofo pointed toward the hatch. "Sit."

Cugel and Lankwiler seated themselves and waited with polite attention.

With head bent forward and hands clasped behind his back Drofo surveyed his underlings. After a moment he spoke, in a deep and passionless voice. "I can tell you much! Listen, and you will gain wisdom to surpass the scholars at the Institute, with their concords and paradigms! But do not mistake me! The weight of my words is no more than the weight of a single rain-drop! To know, you must do! After a hundred worms and ten thousand leagues, then with justice you may say, 'I am wise!' or, to precisely the same effect: 'I am a worminger!' At this time, because you are wise and because you are a worminger, you will not wish to utter vainglories. You will choose reticence, since your worth will speak for itself!" Drofo looked from face to face. "Am I clear?"