(Jack) "In Amsterdam there lives a maid-- Mark you well what I say-- In Amsterdam there lives a maid, And she is mistress of her trade. I'll go no more a-roving from you, fair maid!" (_Chorus_) "A-roving, a-roving, since roving's been my ruin, I'll go no more a-roving from you, fair maid!" This also ran its course, then Curly struck up "One more day for Johnnie": (Curly) "Only one more day for Johnnie." (_Chorus_) "One more day!" (Curly) "Oh! rock and roll me over!" (_Chorus_) "One more----" Then the bosun most rudely interrupted the music. Biff! Bang! Thud! "You d----d sodgering hound!" Whack! "I've watched you loafin' long enough!" Thump! and Studpoker Bob, lifted clean off his feet by a sudden muscular grasp upon his collar, was held at arm's length and fairly battered by the bosun's brawny fist. Crash! an eye closed up. "Mercy! mercy! you're killin' me!" whined the miserable wretch. Bish! his nose began to bleed. "Had enough yet, you d----d Yankee tough?" growled the bosun. "Yes, yes; lemme----" Crack! and his two front teeth were loosened. "By gum! that were a sockdologer!" commented Bedrock Ben. The men had stopped working and watched the gambler getting his gruel with appreciative eyes. "Now, then, put your back into it and no more sodgerin'!" said the bosun, as he released his iron grip. "I'll get even with you, you durned Britisher," snarled the card-sharper, as soon as he was released, his anger overcoming his caution. "Give me lip, will ye?" roared the bosun. "Threaten me, would ye?" Again he seized upon Studpoker Bob, and this time did not desist from his chastening until the man dropped to the deck, beaten to a jelly and hardly able to move. At the wheel the cockney hopped up and down with excitement, straining his neck in his eagerness to see the gambler get his hammering, and a grim smile of amusement came into Old Man Riley's keen visage, as he watched the performance with the eye of an expert from the poop rail. Letting his victim lie where he dropped, the bosun turned to the pumps and called out, "Tune her up again, boys!" and presently came the welcome cry, "That'll do the pumps!" and the watch trooped forward. Studpoker Bob, who had lain all this time groaning on the deck, made shift now to get to his legs, and made tracks for the foc's'le. But the bosun was on to him again. "Here, you there," he called, "go up an' overhaul them fore an' main t'gallant buntlines." And up the man had to go. It was now two bells, and Red Bill trudged slowly aft to relieve the cockney, as he owed him a wheel, and the second dog-watch being considered one of the worst wheels, the cockney had gladly consented to take an hour of that instead of the whole trick at any other time. Diving through a curtain of spray, the rest of the watch reached the foc's'le.