A hard-looking party was trying to hold the barkeeper up for a drink when I reached the Blue Light. He was the only being in the place who looked husky enough to lift more than the weight of his elbow to the level of his shoulder. I offered him ten dollars for the next twenty-four hours. "To work on a hurry-up job on a steam-lighter," I explained. "That's if you're tough enough for it on a windy night," I added. "Tough work? William T. Coots is my name--and the T stands for tough." "Come on then," I said, "here's one dollar down." It was the last dollar I had. William T. could never leave there with that dollar in his pocket. He made a great fellow of himself by buying drinks for a bunch of bums, and then I warped him in and grappled him to me. Passing the Bayport Hotel this time, I could see Judkins and Davies still talking, only by this time some of the crew were giving out interviews, too, and the audience included two or three reporters, and all hands had moved from the lobby to the barroom. After a peek at that cheerful party and then at the dark harbor I didn't blame William T. for wanting to go in and join them, but he had signed to go a cruise on the _Happy Day_. I reasoned with him till he told me for the third time that he was William T. Coots, a tough guy, and was going to have one more drink. Then I dropped fair words, walloped him back on to the sidewalk, ran him down aboard the _Happy Day_, and introduced him to Scoot. We put out. The _Happy Day_ was an ancient craft that had been built right there in Bayport, and if she'd ever been outside the harbor before, the oldest inhabitant couldn't recall it. How she was going to act outside this night none of us would bet, but we hoped she'd surprise us. But she acted pretty much like we figured she would. She had a 65-foot hammer hoist. We couldn't see ten feet away--it was a dark, drizzly night--but we could feel the runways of that hoist waving somewhere up in the clouds above us. And no harm in that, if it didn't come down on our heads; and no harm when she wouldn't lift from a sea--she wasn't built to--but if only she'd let one pass! But not a blessed one. She'd slue around sideways, and the next one would hit her a swipe, and aboard they'd come as if all the welcome in the world was waiting them. The _Happy Day_ rated a deck-house amidships, with a galley and a little L that Scoot had built on, with a bunk to sleep in of nights. A sea coming aboard one side took the house along with it over the other side. "O' course," said Wheezer, "it was nachally to be espected, but if she'd waited till next week I was reckonin' to had her painted red with blue trimmin's, an' sell her along o' the rest o' the lighter." When the house threatened to loosen up first, Scoot came up out of the hold to rescue Confucius from his bunk, with a brier pipe he'd bought years before this for a half-crown in Liverpool and a pair of custom-made pants he used to wear to parties.