they both again sung out, hoping to
get another coin from Raby.

"No, no more me for dive, you blackguards," he answered, shaking his
head. "You've had quite enough from these two Master Greens already."

And the lads, after singing out a few more times, pulled on ahead, still
crying, "Me for dive, signor; me for dive;" though little, beyond a few
pence, did they get from the crew of an old Mediterranean cruiser like
the _Ione_.

"Now suppose there were sharks here as they have in the West Indies, it
would not be quite so easy to go overboard as it is," observed Duff, who
quickly recovered his temper, which he had lost with his half-crown.

"Oh, these fellows would laugh at a shark," answered Raby. "Why even
the blackies don't fear them, and will attack and kill the largest. By
the by, did you ever hear of the big fellow they keep in Port Royal
harbour to do the duty of guard-boat? Not a man dares swim on shore
when big Tom is on duty, and he never takes a snooze they say."

"You don't mean to say so," said Togle, "but how do they manage to keep
him there?"

"Oh, the Government promised him a superannuated pension when he's no
longer fit for work; but, as he finds he must go on shore to receive it,
he is obliged to keep afloat; though he's been so many years at it that
no one remembers when he first came on the station."

"He must be a rum old joker," observed Duff. "Hillo, here comes old
Monsieur Collet with his cargo of ginger-beer. Let's go and get some;
for I'm very thirsty."

And away they all three scrambled to the gangway, to which a boat had
come with a little wizened old man in her, and laden with bottles of
ginger-beer, and other refreshing drinks.

"Hand us up ginger-beer there," sung out Jemmy Duff. "But, I say,
Monsieur Collet, remember, no pop--no pay."

"Oh, no, signor. All my ginger-beer pop very much."

And, to prove the truth of his assertion, off went half a dozen of his
bottles fizzing away together; some, however, remained, and the old
Frenchman insisted on himself cutting the lashings of the corks to give
full effect of the pop. He would then put a far from clean thumb over
the mouth to prevent the liquid from escaping; but still the froth would
fiz and fume round it.

"Thank ye, Monsieur Collet, none of your digitalis for me," remarked the
assistant surgeon, who observed the operation, which, however, few
others seemed to care for.

The attention of the idlers was soon dra