_some_ lives lost. I say, mates, I s'pose there's
somebody on the look-out?"

"Ay, ay," responded old Bill Maskell from his favourite corner under the
tall old-fashioned clock-case, "Bob's gone across the creek and up to
the tower, as usual. The boy _will_ go; always says as how it's his
_duty_ to go up there and keep a look-out in bad weather; so, as his
eyes is as sharp as needles, and since one is as good as a hundred for
that sort of work, I thought I'd just look in here for a hour or two,
so's to be on the spot if in case any of us should be wanted."

"I've often wondered how it is that it _always_ falls to Bob's lot to go
upon the look-out in bad weather. How is it?" asked an individual in
semi-nautical costume at the far end of the room, whose bearing and
manner conveyed the impression that he regarded himself, as indeed he
was, somewhat of an intruder. He was a ship-chandler's shopman, with an
ambition to be mistaken for a genuine "salt," and had not been many
months in the place.

"Well, you see, mister, the way of it is just this," explained old
Maskell, who considered the question as addressed more especially to
him: "Bob was took off a wrack on the Maplin when he was a mere babby,
the only one saved; found him wrapped up warm and snug in one of the
bunks on the weather side of the cabin with the water surging up to
within three inches of him; so ever since he's been old enough to
understand he've always insisted as it was his duty, by way of returning
thanks, like, to take the look-out when a wrack may be expected. And,
don't you make no mistake, there ain't an eye so sharp as his for a
signal-rocket in the whole place, see's 'em almost afore they be fired--
he do."

"And did you ever try to find his relatives?" asked the shopman.

"Well, no; I can't say as we did, exactly," answered old Bill, "'cause
you see we didn't rightly know how to set to work at the job. The ship
as he was took off of was a passenger-ship, the _Lightning_ of London,
and, as I said afore, he was the only one saved. There were nobody else
as we could axe any questions of, and, the ship hailing from London,
there was no telling _where_ his friends might have come from. There
was R.L. marked on his little clothes, and that was all. So we was
obliged to content ourselves with having that fact tacked on to the yarn
of the wrack in all the papers, in the hope that some of his friends or
relations might get to see it. But, ble