He looked round at ’is wife, as though ’e expected she’d ask ’im not to go, but she took no notice, and he opened the door softly and went out, while old Burge, who ’ad come into the room and ’eard what he was saying, trotted off upstairs to pack ’is chest for ’im. In two hours ’e was back agin and more cheerful than he ’ad been since he ’ad come ’ome. Bob was in the bar and the others were just sitting down to tea, and a big chest, nicely corded, stood on the floor in the corner of the room. “That’s right,” he ses, looking at it; “that’s just wot I wanted.” “It’s as full as it can be,” ses old Burge. “I done it for you myself. ’Ave you got a ship?” “I ’ave,” ses Dixon. “A jolly good ship. No more hardships for me this time. I’ve got a berth as captain.” “_Wot?_” ses ’is wife. “Captain? You!” “Yes,” ses Dixon, smiling at her. “You can sail with me if you like.” “Thankee,” ses Mrs. Dixon, “I’m quite comfortable where I am.” “Do you mean to say _you’ve_ got a master’s berth?” ses Charlie, staring at ’im. “I do,” ses Dixon; “master and owner.” Charlie coughed. “Wot’s the name of the ship?” he asks, winking at the others. “The BLUE LION,” ses Dixon, in a voice that made ’em all start. “I’m shipping a new crew and I pay off the old one to-night. You first, my lad.” “Pay off,” ses Charlie, leaning back in ’is chair and staring at ’im in a puzzled way. “_Blue Lion?_” “Yes,” ses Dixon, in the same loud voice. “When I came ’ome the other day I thought p’r’aps I’d let bygones be bygones, and I laid low for a bit to see whether any of you deserved it. I went to sea to get hardened—and I got hard. I’ve fought men that would eat you at a meal. I’ve ’ad more blows in a week than you’ve ’ad in a lifetime, you fat-faced land-lubber.” He walked to the door leading to the bar, where Bob was doing ’is best to serve customers and listen at the same time, and arter locking it put the key in ’is pocket. Then ’e put his ’and in ’is pocket and slapped some money down on the table in front o’ Charlie. “There’s a month’s pay instead o’ notice,” he ses. “Now git.” “George!” screams ’is wife. “’Ow dare you? ’Ave you gone crazy?” “I’m surprised at you,” ses old Burge, who’d been looking on with ’is mouth wide open, and pinching ’imself to see whether ’e wasn’t dreaming. “I don’t go for your orders,” ses Charlie, getting up. “Wot d’ye mean by locking that door?” “_Wot!_” roars Dixon. “Hang it! I mustn’t lock a door without asking my barman now. Pack up and be off, you swab, afore I start on you.”