hole one, or perhaps a pair of
them, and not lived to regret his liberality. But the Devonian refused.
"No," he said, "you're a stowaway like me; I won't take it from you,
I'll take it from some one who's not down on his luck."

It was notable in this generous lad that he was strongly under the
influence of sex. If a woman passed near where he was working, his eyes
lit up, his hand paused, and his mind wandered instantly to other
thoughts. It was natural that he should exercise a fascination
proportionally strong upon women. He begged, you will remember, from
women only, and was never refused. Without wishing to explain away the
charity of those who helped him, I cannot but fancy he may have owed a
little to his handsome face, and to that quick, responsive nature formed
for love, which speaks eloquently through all disguises, and can stamp
an impression in ten minutes' talk or an exchange of glances. He was the
more dangerous in that he was far from bold, but seemed to woo in spite
of himself, and with a soft and pleading eye. Ragged as he was, and many
a scarecrow is in that respect more comfortably furnished, even on board
he was not without some curious admirers.

There was a girl among the passengers, a tall, blonde, handsome,
strapping Irishwoman, with a wild, accommodating eye, whom Alick had
dubbed Tommy, with that transcendental appropriateness that defies
analysis. One day the Devonian was lying for warmth in the upper
stoke-hole, which stands open on the deck, when Irish Tommy came past,
very neatly attired, as was her custom.

"Poor fellow," she said, stopping, "you haven't a vest."

"No," he said; "I wish I 'ad."

Then she stood and gazed on him in silence, until, in his embarrassment,
for he knew not how to look under this scrutiny, he pulled out his pipe
and began to fill it with tobacco.

"Do you want a match?" she asked. And before he had time to reply, she
ran off and presently returned with more than one.

That was the beginning and the end, as far as our passage is concerned,
of what I will make bold to call this love-affair. There are many
relations which go on to marriage and last during a lifetime, in which
less human feeling is engaged than in this scene of five minutes at the
stoke-hole.

Rigidly speaking, this would end the chapter of the stowaways; but in a
larger sense of the word I have yet more to add. Jones had discovered
and pointed out to me a young woman who was remarkable among