"and that's gospel-true, theer aren't a
right sailor-man among 'em--"

"Then we'll learn 'em to be!" says Penfeather. "Stand forward the new
men--show a leg and bustle, ye dogs!" Scowling and muttering, some
twelve unlovely fellows obeyed. "I' faith!" says Penfeather, looking
them over, "Here's fine stuff for the gallows! And where's the rest of
'em?"

"Gone aboard this morning along o' Toby Hudd the bo's'un!"

"See here, my bright lads," quoth Penfeather, eyeing each scowling face
in turn, "learn this--when you come aboard my ship and I say to one o'
ye do this or do that, he does it, d'ye see, or--up to the yard-arm he
swings by his thumbs or his neck as occasion warrants. D'ye get me, my
bully roarers?"

Not a man of them spake a word, but all stood shifting uneasily beneath
Penfeather's quick bright eye, shuffling their feet and casting furtive
glances on their fellows.

"Now as to this lump o' roguery," says Penfeather, spurning the still
unconscious man with his foot, "have him into the yard and heave a
bucket o' water over him. As to you, Farnaby, muster the hands, and
stand by to go aboard in half an hour--every unhung rascal."

Without we came on the misfortunate landlord still in the deeps of
gloom, but upon Adam's assurance that all damages should be made good,
he brought us up a pair of stairs to a fair chamber and there served us
a most excellent meal.

Scarce had we risen from table than comes the man Penarth a-knocking,
cap in hand, to say the men stood ready to go aboard. We found some
score fellows drawn up before the inn, and a desperate lot of
cut-throats they looked, what with their hurts and general hang-dog air
as they stood there in the light of a rising moon. Having looked them
over each and every, Penfeather spat, and setting them in Godby's
charge, ordered them to go on before.

"Well, Martin," says he as we followed together, "and how think ye of
my lambs?"

"Call them raging tigers, rather--"

"Nay," says he, "tigers be cleanly creatures, I've heard."

"'A God's name, Adam, why truck with such ill rogues? Sure there be
many honest mariners to be had?"

"Why as to that, Martin, good men be scarce and ever hard to come
by--moreover these scum are a means to an end, d'ye see?"

"How so?"

"Just that, Martin," says he, glancing at me in his furtive manner, "a
means to an end."

"What end?"

"Ah, who may tell, Martin?" he sighed, shaking his head. Now when I
would