ee," but, reflecting that the
beverage might not be readily obtainable in such a place, he substituted
"Beer."

Instead of calling the waiter, Mr Sloper went himself to the bar to
fetch the liquor. While he was thus engaged, Miles glanced round the
room, and was particularly struck with the appearance of a large,
fine-looking sailor who sat at the small table next to him, with hands
thrust deep into his trousers-pockets, his chin resting on his broad
chest, and a solemn, owlish stare in his semi-drunken yet manly
countenance. He sat alone, and was obviously in a very sulky frame of
mind--a condition which he occasionally indicated through a growl of
dissatisfaction.

As Miles sat wondering what could have upset the temper of a tar whose
visage was marked by the unmistakable lines and dimples of good-humour,
he overheard part of the conversation that passed between the barman and
Mr Sloper.

"What! have they got hold o' Rattling Bill?" asked the former, as he
drew the beer.

"Ay, worse luck," returned Sloper. "I saw the sergeant as I came along
lead him over to Miss Robinson's trap--confound her!"

"Don't you go fur to say anything agin Miss Robinson, old man," suddenly
growled the big sailor, in a voice so deep and strong that it silenced
for a moment the rest of the company. "Leastways, you may if you like,
but if you do, I'll knock in your daylights, an' polish up your
figur'-head so as your own mother would mistake you fur a battered
saucepan!"

The seaman did not move from his semi-recumbent position as he uttered
this alarming threat, but he accompanied it with a portentous frown and
an owlish wink of both eyes.

"What! have _you_ joined the Blue Lights?" asked Sloper, with a smile,
referring to the name by which the religious and temperance men of the
army were known.

"No, I ha'n't. Better for me, p'r'aps, if I had. Here, waiter, fetch
me another gin-an'-warer. An' more o' the gin than the warer, mind.
Heave ahead or I'll sink you!"

Having been supplied with a fresh dose of gin and water, the seaman
appeared to go to sleep, and Miles, for want of anything better to do,
accepted Sloper's invitation to play a game of dominoes.

"Are the beds here pretty good?" he asked, as they were about to begin.

"Yes, first-rate--for the money," answered Sloper.

"That's a lie!" growled the big sailor. "They're bad at any price--
stuffed wi' cocoa-nuts and marline-spikes."

Mr Sloper received this obs