"You haven't paid me for the monkey jacket yet," interposed Mrs Poll Nash, the bumboat woman, who was holding up the garment in question, waiting for the coin to be passed over before parting with it, the good lady having in her career learnt the wisdom of caution. "That'll make three pun' seventeen-and-six in all. Now, look sharp, my joker, or I'll chuck the duds back into the wherry. I ain't a-going to wait all day for my money, I tell you!" "I'll let you have it in a minute," whined "Downy," who was apparently afraid to show what he had in his pocket, the dark gentleman's eye being upon him. "Can't you give a fellow time? I ain't a-going to run away." "Ye vood, ye liar, presshus shoon if ye 'ad arf a shance, I bet, s'help me!" shouted out the other man, who, from his speech, was evidently a Hebrew and a creditor. "Ye're von tarn sheet, dat's vot ye vas, a bloomin' corpse swindler, vot sheets de living, s'help me, and rops ze dead! I shpit upon ye, I does!" "Come, come, you fellows there, I can't allow such language on board this ship," sang out from the poop Lieutenant Jellaby, the officer of the watch, when matters had come to this pass. "Ship's corporal, bring those men here!" In obedience to this command, the two disputants were both brought aft, Poll Nash following also, being an interested party, to get back her clothes or the money from "Downy." The latter was at once recognised by Lieutenant Jellaby, a jolly fellow, in whose watch I was. He went by his Christian name of "Joe" amongst us all, being very good-natured and always full of fun and chaff. "Hullo!" he exclaimed. "You're the gravedigger, ain't you?" "Yes, sir," replied "Downy" sedately, as his original profession probably inculcated. "That were my humble calling, sir." "Why did you give it up, eh?" "Trade got slack, sir." "How was that?" "Porchmouth's too healthy a place, sir," answered the man, as grave as a judge. "People won't die there fast enough, sir, for my trade; so I had to turn it up, 'cause I couldn't make a decent living out of 'em." "By burying them, I suppose?" "Yes, sir," answered the man, seriously. "That is, when I were lucky enough to get a job." "Well, that's a rum start, a fellow complaining of not being able to make a living out of the dead!" said Joe Jellaby to me, smiling; and then, turning again to the man he continued, "now, tell me what all this row is about?" Here the Jew, who introduced himself as the keeper of a lodging-house in Portsea, put in his word. "Dis shcoundrel vas owe me five blooming pounds," he cried out excitedly. "I vash keep him ven he vash shtarving; and now, ven he got money, he von't shettle. He's a shvindler and a tief, s'help me; and I shvear I'll have the law on him!" "Why don't you pay this man if you owe him anything?" said the lieutenant, sharply, to "Downy." "You've received your advance money from the paymaster, have you not?"