my ru-u-in,
I'll go no more a roving,
With Thee, Fair Maid.

Martin stood entranced. The songster adventured on with the "Amsterdam
Maid," another stanza and chorus. The soft bell-like tones, the salty
words, the air, like all the chanteys, both sad and reckless, caressed
Martin's ears like a siren charm. The boatswain's words, "'E sings
like a blessed angel," crossed his mind. Rather, a blessed merman! To
Martin, greedy for the oceans and beyond, the ditty seemed the very
whisper of bright and beckoning distance--a whisper of tropic seas, of
spice-scented nights, of blue isles. It heaped fuel on his sea-lust.
His heels itched.

The song ended and was followed by a chuckle, a care-free clucking of
subdued mirth. The singer was evidently in a jovial mood. A few
softly spoken, laughter-tinged words reached Martin.

"The audience is requested to kindly move forward. No extra charge for
box seats. Front row reserved for bald heads. Next show starts right
away. Especially staged for young gentlemen of the law."

Martin came to himself with a start. The words were addressed to him.
He was the sole audience in sight. And the facetious hunchback
evidently recognized him, remembered him and the fact of his employment
in a law office. Martin was standing beneath the dim glow of a street
lamp, but Little Billy must have very sharp eyes to recognize features
in that half-light.

Martin moved forward promptly. First the weeping boatswain, now the
happy hunchback. It was a night of odd meetings! But Little Billy
seemed not so downcast as the bosun.

"Ah, ha, my amiable acquaintance of the afternoon walks abroad!"
chuckled the voice, as Martin came to a halt beside the hydrant. "Is
it thus he cools a brow fevered of too much Trent and Blackstone?"

"Well, it is a good night for such a cooling," was Martin's
good-natured retort.

"True," admitted the other. "And other things than the law fever the
head--heavy ordnance of cruisers of accursed blackness, the fatal rum
and gum, the devious workings of the Oriental mind, the slithering
about of fat and greasy varlets. Yes, many things fever the brow, and
'tis a good night for a cooling. As witness!"

Martin stared at the other. No reek of alcohol met his nostrils, as
with the boatswain, but, none the less Little Billy's cryptic jargon
confirmed his suspicions. Also drunk, he reflected. The revered and
gentle old mate of the brig _Cohasset_ would h