In the summer-time this hero always slung his hammock here, with plenty of wind to rock him off to sleep, but in winter King Æolus himself could not have borne it. “Monument Joe,” as almost everybody called him, was a queer old character of days gone by. Sturdy and silent, but as honest as the sun, he made his rounds as regularly as that great orb, and with equally beneficent object. For twice a day he stumped to fetch his beer from Widow Precious, and the third time to get his little pannikin of grog. And now the time was growing for that last important duty, when a stranger stood before him with a crown piece in his hand. “Now don't get up, captain, don't disturb yourself,” said Mr. Mordacks, graciously; “your country has claimed your activity, I see, and I hope it makes amends to you. At the same time I know that it very seldom does. Accept this little tribute from the admiration of a friend.” Old Joe took the silver piece and rung it on his tin tobacco-box, then stowed it inside, and said, “Gammon! What d'ye want of me?” “Your manners, my good Sir, are scarcely on a par with your merits. I bribe no man; it is the last thing I would ever dream of doing. But whenever a question of memory arises, I have often observed a great failure of that power without--without, if you will excuse the expression, the administration of a little grease.” “Smooggling? Aught about smooggling?” Old Joe shut his mouth sternly; for he hated and scorned the coast-guards, whose wages were shamefully above his own, and who had the impudence to order him for signals; while, on the other hand, he found free trade a policy liberal, enlightening, and inspiriting. “No, captain, no; not a syllable of that. You have been in this place about sixteen years. If you had only been here four years more, your evidence would have settled all I want to know. No wreck can take place here, of course, without your knowledge?” “Dunno that. B'lieve one have. There's a twist of the tide here--but what good to tell landlubbers?” “You are right. I should never understand such things. But I find them wonderfully interesting. You are not a native of this place, and knew nothing of Flamborough before you came here?” Monument Joe gave a grunt at this, and a long squirt of tobacco juice. “And don't want,” he said. “Of course, you are superior, in every way superior. You find these people rough, and far inferior in manners. But either, my good friend, you will re-open your tobacco-box, or else you will answer me a few short questions, which trespass in no way upon your duty to the king, or to his loyal smugglers.”