er
my month's advance."

"Oh, some is good and some ain't," said Martin. "Ah knowed a feller
wot 'ad an 'ard-up boardin'-'ouse in Tiger Bay. Awl th' stiffs in
Cardiff use' ter lay back on 'im w'en nobody else 'ud give 'em 'ouse
room--hoodlums and Dagos an' Greeks wot couldn't get a ship proper. 'E
'ad rooms in 'is 'ouse fitted up wi' bunks like a bloomin' fo'cs'le,
ah' 'is crowd got their grub sarved out, same's they wos at sea. Every
tide time 'e wos down at th' pier-'ead wi' six or seven of 'is
gang--'ook-pots an' pannikins, an' bed an' piller--waitin' their chanst
ov a 'pier-'ead jump.' That wos th' only way 'e could get 'is men
away, 'cos they worn't proper sailormen as c'd go aboard a packet 'n
ast for a sight like you an' me. Most of 'em 'ad bad discharges or
dead-'un's papers or somethin'! 'Pier-'ead jumps,' they wos, an' they
wouldn't never 'a' got a ship, only f'r that feller an' 'is 'ard-up
boardin'-'ouse."

Martin picked up his precious 'log' and turned to go below. "Anyways,
good or bad," he said, "them 'sharks' 'as got my ol' iron fer the last
month, an' if this worn't a starvation bloomin' Scotch packet, an' a
crew of bloomin' know-alls, fixing me with a fancy curl of lip, we'd a
_chanteyed_ th' 'dead 'orse' aft t'night an' ast th' Ol' Man t' splice
the mainbrace."

He passed into the forecastle, and through the open door we could hear
him sing a snatch of the 'dead horse' _chantey_:--

"_But now th' month is up, ol' turk!_
(_An' we says so, an' we 'opes so._)
_Get up, ye swine, an' look fer work!_
(_Oh! Poor--ol'--man!_)

"_Get up, ye swine, an' look fer graft!_
(_An' we says so, an' we 'opes so._)
_While we lays on an' yanks ye aft!_
(_Oh! Poor--ol'--man!_)"

V

'SEA PRICE'

At first weak and baffling, the south-east trades strengthened and blew
true as we reached away to the south'ard under all sail. Already we
had forgotten the way of bad weather. It seemed ages since we had last
tramped the weltering decks, stamping heavily in our big sea-boots for
warmth, or crouching in odd corners to shelter from the driven spray,
the bitter wind and rain. Now we were fine-weather voyagers--like the
flying-fish and the albacore, and bonita, that leapt the sea we sailed
in. The tranquil days went by in busy sailor work; we spent the nights
in a sleepy languor, in semi-wakefulness. In watch below we were
assured of our rest, and even when 'on deck'--save for