“There now,” he said, “out of that lot we ought to be able to get a drink. There’s German gin, Squareface, and the Lord knows what else, but if you take my advice you’ll stick to that cognac--it’s the right stuff.” I charged my tumbler with this highly-recommended beverage and, the Captain having followed my example, we sat and smoked in silence for some time. “So you like my little ship?” said the skipper presently. “I fell in love with her the first time I saw her,” I replied. “I’ve never seen a brig at all like her before.” “I don’t suppose you have,” rejoined the Captain. “Probably there isn’t another like her afloat, for they don’t build clippers of this size nowadays. You see, our owner is a bit of a sportsman and this brig is his fancy. By the way, you’re in the shipping line yourself, aren’t you?” “Not I,” I answered, smiling a little bitterly, “I wish I were. No, I’m a clerk in Jobson’s Bank.” “My eye!” exclaimed the skipper. “I couldn’t stand that. Sitting in a cellar all day counting other people’s money. What made you take that job on?” “Well, it was this way. When I was about twelve, my father was offered a post in the bank, so he came down here from London and brought me with him. Then, about eight years ago, he was taken off suddenly by influenza and, as my mother had died when I was quite a child, I was left high and dry to shift for myself; so I applied at the bank for some kind of work and was taken on as junior clerk--and there I’ve been ever since, and pretty sick of it I get sometimes, I can tell you.” “I expect you do,” said the Captain, regarding me meditatively through a haze of tobacco smoke. “It must be a dog’s life. Why don’t you chuck it?” “What could I do?” I asked. “Well, what _can_ you do?” the Captain inquired by way of a Scotch answer. “I can write a decent hand,” said I. “I can keep books of a kind, can speak French and German fairly--I pick up languages rather easily--I can sail a boat and I can build one, too, if necessary.” “Can ye, though?” said the Captain, pricking up his ears, as I thought. “Yes. I built myself a little canoe yawl, and I sail her about here a good deal. On Sundays in summer I often take her right round the Goodwins--start in the early morning and come home in the dusk. And I made every bit of her myself in off times: hull, spars, sails, blocks--everything but just the iron fittings.” “Did ye now?” said the Captain approvingly. “Sails and all? You’re a pretty handy man then.” “Yes, I’m pretty handy at wood and metal work and such like, but, of course, that doesn’t help one much towards getting a living.” “No, I suppose it doesn’t. It’s useful though. What should you like to do if you had your choice?” “Oh,” said I, “if I could see a chance I would go abroad and see foreign lands and knock about the world for a time. I’ve been on the look-out for a billet of the kind for years, but nothing ever seems to turn up.”