once pretty sure of having lighted, by chance, on his very dry-dock, and went in without more ado. I found nobody in the little shop, but a rough voice, as like as possible to Jacobs' own, was chanting the sea-song of "Come, cheer up, my lads, 'tis to glory we steer," in the back-room, in a curious sleepy kind of drone, interrupted every now and then by the suck of his pipe, and a mysterious thumping sound, which I could only account for by the supposition that the poor fellow was mangling clothes, or gone mad. I was obliged to kick on the counter with all my might, in competition, before an eye was applied from inside to the little window; after which, as I expected, the head of Jacobs was thrust out of the door, his hair rough, three days' beard on his chin, and he in his shirt and trousers. "_Hisht!_" said he, in a low voice, not seeing me distinctly for the light, "you're not callin' the watch, my lad! Hold on a bit, and I'll sarve your orders directly." After another stave of "Hearts of oak are our ships," &c. in the same drawl, and a still more vigorous thumping than before, next minute out came Bob again; with a wonderful air of importance, though, and drawing in one hand, to my great surprise, the slack of a line of "half-inch," on which he gave now and then a tug and an ease off, as he came forward, like a fellow humouring a newly-hooked fish. "Now, then, my hearty!" said he, shading his eyes with the other hand, "bear a--" "Why, Jacobs, old ship," I said, "what's this you're after? Don't you know your old apprentice, eh?"