“Who called it?” inquired a voice, with the air of one making a point. “I did,” said Mr. Morgan; “there was nobody else;—both of ’em walked round each other a bit, sparring and looking for opportunities. I think the third round was the longest of all. Both of ’em kept getting in a lot of little knocks and then dodging away again. Then Tarbut caught Gubbs one in the bread-ba—in the wind—and then followed up on his jaw and knocked him down again. It was a disgusting spectacle.” “Must ha’ been,” said a dejected voice. “After that there was twelve more rounds,” continued the narrator; “sometimes Tarbut had the best of it, and sometimes Gubbs. Both men was very determined and fought very fair. It was good, solid hard hitting, and they were marked all over before they’d finished. Once Gubbs gave Tarbut a blow over the heart, and I thought he wouldn’t get up to time.” “I wouldn’t if you hadn’t blowed water into my face out of that puddle,” said Tarbut. “It was a most disgusting spectacle,” said Mr. Peter Morgan, hurriedly. “Seems to me——” began Larkins, ferociously. “Two fine strong men, stripped to the waist, hard as nails, knocking each other about for money,” said Mr. Morgan. “They’re never going to fight any more. I made ’em promise they wouldn’t. They’re good friends now; ain’t you, lads?” With an utter disregard of the feelings of the bystanders the two men shook hands. “And though I regard fighting with horror,” concluded Mr. Morgan, beaming on them, “I think that, as it was a bargain, you should divide the purse between ’em.” “They won’t get a farthing of it,” said Mr. Larkins, explosively, “unless you like to give it to ’em out of your own pocket.” “_Me!_” said Mr. Morgan, opening his eyes. “Why?” “Ask yourself,” said Mr. Larkins, pointedly. “I should say if any man ever ’ad thirty-five shillingsworth of sport all to hisself, you have; and, what’s more, you know it, Mr. Peter Morgan.” The peacemaker sighed, and, turning, led his charges gently away. The crowd watched them as far as the “Three Fishers,” and observing that they detached themselves by force from their guide and friend, crossed the road and followed them in. FALSE COLOURS “Of course, there is a deal of bullying done at sea at times,” said the night-watchman, thoughtfully. “The men call it bullying an’ the officers call it discipline, but it’s the same thing under another name. Still, it’s fair in a way. It gets passed on from one to another. Everybody aboard a’most has got somebody to bully, except, perhaps, the boy; he ’as the worst of it, unless he can manage to get the ship’s cat by itself occasionally. “I don’t think sailor-men mind being bullied. I never ’eard of its putting one off ’is feed yet, and that’s the main thing, arter all’s said and done.