ell, why not?" he added, eagerly, and then under cover of his netting
he unwound thirty or forty yards of the twine, cut it off, and tied the
end to the middle of his cudgel.

"That'll do it," he muttered, and chuckled again with satisfaction. For
Tom lived in the days when the Australian boomerang was an unknown
weapon; otherwise he would have cut and carved till he had contrived
one, and given himself no rest till he could hurl it with unerring aim
and the skill that would bring it back to his hand.

The sloop-of-war and the Revenue cutter, its companion, had been lying
at anchor some hundred yards from the end of the pier, and every now and
then the sailor glanced at the trim vessels with their white sails and
the sloop's carefully-squared yards--all "ataunto," as he termed it--and
more than one sigh escaped his lips as he thought that never again would
he tread the white deck that he helped to holy-stone, let alone show
that he was one of the smartest of the crew to go up aloft.

And as he glanced at the vessels from time to time, he, to use his
words, "put that and that together," and noticed that, contrary to
custom, there was not a single hearty-looking young fisherman lounging
upon the rail that overhung the head of the harbour.

"Smells a rat," muttered the old sailor. "Like as not they've dropped
anchor here to see if there are any likely-looking lads waiting to be
picked up after dark. Why, there's a good dozen that would be worth
anything to a skipper, and I could put the press-gang on to their trail
as easy as could be; but they're neighbours, and I can't do them such a
dirty turn. Now, if they'd on'y take a dozen of these young beauties it
would be a blessing to the place; but, no, the skipper wouldn't have
them at a gift. But that's what they're after. Hullo, here comes a
boat!"

"Oh!" he laughed, as he saw the sloop's cutter lowered down with its
crew and a couple of officers in the stern-sheets. "The old game.
Coming ashore for fresh meat and vegetables. I know that little game."

Bodger went on netting away, watching the boat out of the corner of one
eye as it was rowed smartly up to the harbour steps, where the oars were
turned up; and leaving the youth with him in charge of the boat's crew,
the officer sprang out with one of the men and hurried up the steps,
gave a supercilious glance at the crippled sailor, who touched his hat,
and then went along towards the town.

"Yes, that's it,"