“And I believe we'd get more than that for your old woman,” said Mr. Kidd. “There's no kids, and she could keep 'erself easy. Not that I want to encourage you to make away with yourself.” Mr. Gibbs scowled and, tilting his mug, peered gloomily into the interior. “Joe won't make no 'ole in the water,” said Mr. Brown, wagging his head. “If it was beer, now--” Mr. Gibbs turned and, drawing himself up to five feet three, surveyed the speaker with an offensive stare. “I don't see why he need make a 'ole in anything,” said Mr. Kidd, slowly. “It 'ud do just as well if we said he 'ad. Then we could pass the hat round and share it.” “Divide it into three halves and each 'ave one,” said Mr. Brown, nodding; “but 'ow is it to be done?” “'Ave some more beer and think it over,” said Mr. Kidd, pale with excitement. “Three pints, please.” He and Mr. Brown took up their pints, and nodded at each other. Mr. Gibbs, toying idly with the handle of his, eyed them carefully. “Mind, I'm not promising anything,” he said, slowly. “Understand, I ain't a-committing of myself by drinking this 'ere pint.” “You leave it to me, Joe,” said Mr. Kidd. Mr. Gibbs left it to him after a discussion in which pints played a persuasive part; with the result that Mr. Brown, sitting in the same bar the next evening with two or three friends, was rudely disturbed by the cyclonic entrance of Mr. Kidd, who, dripping with water, sank on a bench and breathed heavily. “What's up? What's the matter?” demanded several voices. “It's Joe--poor Joe Gibbs,” said Mr. Kidd. “I was on Smith's wharf shifting that lighter to the next berth, and, o' course Joe must come aboard to help. He was shoving her off with 'is foot when--” He broke off and shuddered and, accepting a mug of beer, pending the arrival of some brandy that a sympathizer had ordered, drank it slowly. “It all 'appened in a flash,” he said, looking round. “By the time I 'ad run round to his end he was just going down for the third time. I hung over the side and grabbed at 'im, and his collar and tie came off in my hand. Nearly went in, I did.” He held out the collar and tie; and approving notice was taken of the fact that he was soaking wet from the top of his head to the middle button of his waistcoat. “Pore chap!” said the landlord, leaning over the bar. “He was in 'ere only 'arf an hour ago, standing in this very bar.” “Well, he's 'ad his last drop o' beer,” said a carman in a chastened voice. “That's more than anybody can say,” said the landlord, sharply. “I never heard anything against the man; he's led a good life so far as I know, and 'ow can we tell that he won't 'ave beer?” He made Mr. Kidd a present of another small glass of brandy. “He didn't leave any family, did he?” he inquired, as he passed it over. “Only a wife,” said Mr. Kidd; “and who's to tell that pore soul I don't know. She fair doated on 'im. 'Ow she's to live I don't know. I shall do what I can for 'er.”