other vessels, and then, in
the afternoon, they returned towards Ramsgate harbour. On the way they
stopped at one of the large buoys which required to be painted. The
weather being suitable for that purpose, a boat was lowered, black and
white paint-pots and brushes were put into her, and Jack Shales, Dick
Moy, and Jerry MacGowl were told off to perform the duty. Stanley Hall
also went for pastime, and Billy Towler slid into the boat like an eel,
without leave, just as it pushed off.

"Get out, ye small varmint!" shouted Jerry; but the boy did not obey;
the boat was already a few feet off from the vessel, and as the captain
either did not see or did not care, Billy was allowed to go.

"You'll only be in the way, an' git tired of yer life before we're half
done," said Dick Moy.

"Never mind, he shall keep me company," said Stanley, laughing. "We
will sit in judgment on the work as it proceeds--won't we, Billy?"

"Well, sir," replied the boy, with intense gravity, "that depends on
whether yer fine-hart edication has bin sufficiently attended to; but
I've no objection to give you the benefit o' my adwice if you gits into
difficulties."

A loud laugh greeted this remark, and Billy, smiling with condescension,
said he was gratified by their approval.

A few minutes sufficed to bring them alongside the buoy, which was one
of the largest size, shaped like a cone, and painted in alternate
stripes of white and black. It rose high above the heads of the men
when they stood up beside it in the boat. It was made of timber, had a
wooden ring round it near the water, and bore evidence of having
received many a rude buffet from ships passing in the dark.

"A nice little buoy this," said Billy, looking at it with the eye and
air of a connoisseur; "wot's its name?"

"The North Goodwin; can't 'ee read? don't 'ee see its name up there on
its side, in letters as long as yerself?" said Jack Shales, as he
stirred up the paint in one of the pots.

"Ah, to be sure; well, it might have bin named the Uncommon Good-win,"
said Billy, "for it seems to have seen rough service, and to have stood
it well. Come, boys, look alive, mix yer colours an' go to work;
England expecks every man, you know, for to do his dooty."

"Wot a bag of impudence it is!" said Dick Moy, catching the ring-bolt on
the top of the buoy with the boat-hook, and holding the boat as close to
it as possible, while his mates dipped their brushes in the black and