disgust (directed especially at
the old man), and went aft, leaving Munro and me to weather Martin's
rage.

"Oh, shut up, Martin!" said the bo'sun. "They ain't doin' no 'arm!
Boys is boys!"

"Ho no, they ain't, bo'sun: not in this ship, they ain't. Boys is men,
an' men's old beggars, 'ere! I don't 'old wi' them a-comin' forrard
'ere at awl! A place fer everything, an' everybody 'as 'is place, I
says! Captin' on the bloomin' poop o' her, an' cook t' th' foresheet!
That's shipshape an' Bristol fashion, ain't it?"

"That's so, that's so! ... But them young 'uns is 'ere for
hin-for-mashun, eh?"

Martin grumbled loudly and turned to counting his notches. "Know-alls!
That's wot _they_ is--ruddy know-alls! Told me I didn't know wot a
fair win' wos!" he muttered as he fingered his 'log.'

"'Dead 'oss?'" said the bo'sun, turning to Munro. "'Dead 'oss' is th'
fust month out, w'en ye're workin' for ye'r boardin'-mawster. 'E gets
ye'r month's advawnce w'en ye sails, an' ye've got to work that hoff
afore ye earns any pay!"

"Who vass ride your 'dead 'oss,' Martin?" asked the Belgian when quiet
was restored.

"Oh, Jemmy Grant; 'im wot 'as an 'ouse in Springfield Lane. Come in t'
th' Clyde in th' _Loch Ness_ from Melb'un--heighty-five days, an' a
damn good passage too, an' twel' poun' ten of a pay day! Dunno' 'ow it
went.... Spent it awl in four or five days. I put up at Jemmy Grant's
for a week 'r two arter th' money was gone, an' 'e guv' me five bob an'
a new suit of oilskins out 'er my month's advawnce on this 'ere 'ooker!"

"Indeed to goodness, now! That iss not pad at all, indeed," said John
Lewis, our brawny Welshman. "I came home in th' _Wanderer_, o' St.
Johnss, an' wass paid off with thirty-fife poun'ss, I tell 'oo. I
stayed in Owen Evanss' house in Great Clyde Street, an' when I went
there I give him ten poun'ss t' keep for me. 'Indeed, an' I will, m'
lad,' he sayss, 'an' 'oo can have it whenever 'oo likes,' he sayss....
Damn him for a rogue, I tell 'oo!"

Martin laughed. "Well, ye was soft. Them blokes' bizness is keepin',
ain't it?"

"Iss, indeed! Well, I tell 'oo, I got in trouble with a policeman in
th' Broomielaw. It took four o' them to run me in, indeed!" pleasantly
reminiscent; "an' the next mornin' I wass put up for assaultin' th'
police. 'I don't know nothin' about it,' I sayss, when the old fella'
asked me. 'Thirty shillins' or fourteen days,' he sayss! ... Well, I
didn't ha