y a blazing hatred born of
injustice through ages and only coming to light when upborne by
balloon-juice. On these occasions a saloon bar with its glitter and
phantom show of mirth and prosperity sometimes called on him to dispense
and destroy it, the passion to fight the crowd seized him, a passion
that has its origin, perhaps, in sources other than alcohol.

He was talking now to Harbutt, scarcely lowering his voice on account of
the fellows in the bunks. Snoring and drugged with ozone a kick would
only have made them curse and turn on the other side, and as he talked
his voice made part of that procession of noises inseparable from the
fo'c'sle of a ship under sail against a head sea. He had been holding
forth on the food and general conditions of this ship compared with the
food and conditions of his last, when Harbutt cut in.

"There's not a pin to choose between owners, and ships is owners as far
as a sailorman's concerned.--Blast them."

"I was in a hooker once," said Raft, "and the Old Man came across a lot
of cheap sugar, served it out to save the m'lasses. It was lead, most of
it, and the chaps that swallowed it their teeth came out."

"What happened to them then?"

"They croaked. I joined at Bombay, after the business, or I'd have
croaked too."

"What ship was that?" asked Harbutt.

"I've forgot her name, it was a good bit back--but it's the truth."

"Of course it's the truth," replied the other, "who's doubtin' you, any
dog's trick played on a sailorman's the truth, you can lay to that.
I've had four years of sea and I oughta know."

"What's this you were?" asked Raft.

"Oh, I was a lot o' things," replied Harbutt. "Wished I'd never left
them to join this b--y business, but it's the same ashore, owners all
the time stuffin' themselves and gettin' rich, workers starvin'."

Raft belonged to the old time labour world dating from Pelagon, he
grumbled, but had no grudge against owners in general, it was only in
drink that Pelagon rose in him. Harbutt was an atom of the new voice
that is heard everywhere now, even in fo'c'sles. He had failed in
everything on land and a'board ship he was a slacker. You cannot be a
voice and an A.B. at the same time.

"What was your last job ashore?" went on Raft with the persistence of a
child, always wanting to know.

"Cleanin' out pig sties," said Harbutt viciously. "Drove to it. I tell
you when a chap's down he's down, the chaps that has money tramples on
the cha