A presumptuous title for a pointless and poorly written sea tale. A yacht, the Pelican owned by an unidentified rich American, was moored and crewless in Port Said in 1942. Cowan, a penniless actor-engineer- overhears of the Pelican's need for a bosun and is subsequently hired. He is dubbed ""Mr. Man"" by the purser when he comes aboard. After a couple of hundred pages and aimless sailing (down to Aden, then to Africa, back up again, and at the war's end, Alexandria), purchase by King Farouk is imminent. Since no logs had been kept, Cowan was asked to supply the lack. This is it. Nothing much happens; it is simply a tale of purposeless war time voyaging, punctuated by minor difficulties with port authorities, and rumors that it is to be turned into a hospital ship. Cowan loves the sea- and people- but he's no writer.