“Why you see,” he replied, “we always keep a lighted lantern on deck to show to any vessel that may be overhauling us; so when she ran us down, the mate caught up the lantern and threw a glimmer of light on her. We could have spotted her by her deck load of timber and her jolly old windmill, but the mate managed to get a squint at her stern as she went by and, although he couldn’t make out the name, he could see that she belonged to Brevig. Now we hadn’t been in Ramsgate twelve hours when in comes a crazy old barque from Brevig with half her jibboom gone and a dent on her stem just the height of our channels. That Dutchman in the pub is her skipper, and he swears his jibboom was carried away a week ago by a steamer, but he won’t let us try the broken piece on his stump. So now you understand why I pitched into him.” “Quite. But you’ll have a Board of Trade inquiry, won’t you?” “Of course we shall; in fact, it’s on now, and that’s why I was such an infernal donkey to quarrel with him; and I am very much obliged to you, sir, for getting me out of that pub before anything unpleasant happened.” He laid a huge hand on my shoulder as he spoke and, in the dim light, his twisted face took on a more pleasant expression than I had thought possible. “Not a bit of it,” I replied; “but that reminds me that we were going to clink a glass together. Where shall we go? The coast will be quite clear by now.” “I’ll tell you what,” said he. “You come aboard with me, and we’ll have a glass and a yarn in the cabin, and let the pubs go to blazes. How will that suit you?” “I shall be delighted,” said I, with truth; for I did not care to be seen in the ordinary taverns of the town, whereas a ship’s cabin had an alluring smack of romance to a sea-smitten landsman like myself. As we talked we had been strolling round the basin, and now, having passed over the second bridge on the Cross-wall, made for the gates by the Custom House. “My craft’s berthed in this corner opposite the ‘Queen’s Head,’” said my new friend. “I’m having a new t’gallant mast fitted, and this berth is handy for the riggers.” As he spoke we turned out of the gates into Harbour Street, and almost at once I perceived, shooting up into the black void, a tall and shapely mast that even in that light I could not fail to recognise. “Surely,” said I, “this is the brig that came in from the Downs some four or five days ago?” “That’s so,” replied my companion; “did you see her come in?” “Yes, and, by Jove! what a beauty she looked in spite of her damaged mainmast.”