I could hardly stand the vile smell of their tobacco, or the look of the sloppy pools upon the floor where they splattered the foam from their ale. I was minded once to quit the room altogether, and had even risen from my feet to go; but I noticed that the clatter of mugs and the din of voices and the stamping of feet was growing louder with every minute. The hopeful look had crowded out of the girl’s face, and at that moment the cry of wench was thundered out, together with an indecent oath that made me wince. She cast a scared glance of appeal in my direction. I sat down again, minded to wait and be on hand in case she should need my protection. She approached timidly the table of the boor who had summoned her. She set down the contents of her tray and was about to retreat when he caught her roughly by the arm. He tried to pull her down upon his knee and made as if to kiss her. I was on my feet in an instant; but before I could stir a step the landlord had taken her part. He fetched the drunken sailor a blow in the face that stretched him on the ground with the blood dripping from his nose. “I guess she’s my brat, not yours,” cried the landlord angrily. “Wench, get back to your place.” The sailors are such clannish folk that I fully expected a desperate brawl to follow the landlord’s attack. There was some violent shuffling of feet in the corner, and one or two men started up and took a step or two in the direction of the affray, eager for a row. But before the mob’s anger could come to a focus, someone cried out in a mocking voice: “Portuguese Tom’s got his lobster now.” There must have been some local quip to this phrase that I did not understand, for it produced a storm of laughter, after which they fell to drinking again in the best of jovial good humor. Tom picked himself up, a little crestfallen; but even he joined in the laugh against him. As soon as the crisis was passed I turned my attention to the girl. She had not moved a step from where she stood with her hands clenched and her lips tightly pressed together. Her position and the expression of her face were both so full of fearless scorn that I could not repress an exclamation of delight. “Bravo!” I cried. She looked at me and relaxed into the sensitive woman instantly. “Sit down,” she said lightly, motioning me to resume my seat. “It is not often so bad as it is to-night; but it is over and well over, too. Thank you, sir; thank you.” Though I had done nothing she had seen that I had been ready to come to her assistance. “I shall stay till the room is cleared,” I whispered as she passed me, and then sat down in my place again to watch.