“She’d disappeared as completely as if she’d gone overboard, and more than one of the chaps looked over the side half expecting to see ’er come floating by. By twelve o’clock most of us was convinced that she’d been made away with, and Mr. Fisher made some remarks about the police of Melbourne as would ha’ done them good to hear. “I was just going to see about dinner when we got the first news of her. Three of the most miserable and solemn-looking captains I’ve ever seen came alongside and asked for a few words with our skipper. They all stood in a row looking as if they was going to cry. “‘Good morning, Captain Hart,’ ses one of ’em, as our old man came up with the mate. “‘Good morning,’ ses he. “‘Do you know this?’ ses one of ’em, suddenly, holding out Miss Mallow’s dressing-gown on a walking-stick. “‘Good ’eavens,’ ses the skipper, ‘I hope nothing’s happened to that pore gal.’ “The three captains shook their heads all together. “‘She is no more,’ ses another of ’em. “‘How did it happen?’ ses the skipper, in a low voice. “‘She took this off,’ ses the fust captain, shaking his head and pointing to the dressing-gown. “‘And took a chill?’ ses the skipper, staring very ’ard. “The three captains shook their ’eads agin, and I noticed that they seemed to watch each other and do it all together. “‘I don’t understand,’ ses the skipper. “‘I was afraid you wouldn’t,’ ses the first captain; ‘she took this off.’ “‘So you said before,’ ses the skipper, rather short. “‘And became a boy agin,’ ses the other; ‘the wickedest and most artful young rascal that ever signed on with me.’ “He looked round at the others, and they all broke out into a perfect roar of laughter, and jumped up and down and slapped each other on the back, as if they was all mad. Then they asked which was the one wot had ’is ears boxed, and which was Mr. Fisher and which was Mr. Scott, and told our skipper what a nice fatherly man he was. Quite a crowd got round, an’ wouldn’t go away for all we could do to ’em in the shape o’ buckets o’ water and lumps o’ coal. We was the laughing-stock o’ the place, and the way they carried on when the steamer passed us two days later with the fust captain on the bridge, pretending not to see that imp of a boy standing in the bows blowing us kisses and dropping curtsies, nearly put the skipper out of ’is mind.” HARD LABOUR Police-constable C 49 paced slowly up Wapping High Street in the cool of the evening. The warehouses were closed, and the street almost denuded of traffic. He addressed a short and stern warning to a couple of youths struggling on the narrow pavement, and pointed out—with the toe of his boot—the undesirability of the curbstone as a seat to a small maiden of five. With his white gloves in his hand he swung slowly along, monarch of all he surveyed.