I got into my bunk and Bill got into ’is, and we lay there listening while the cook, who was a terrible ticklish man, leaned out of ’is bunk and said wot ’e’d do if it ’appened ag’in. “Go to sleep,” says Walter Jones; “you’re dreamin’. Who d’you think would want to tickle you?” “I tell you,” says the cook, “somebody come over and tickled me with a ’and the size of a leg o’ mutton. I feel creepy all over.” Bill gave it up for that night, but the next day ’e pretended to think Jimmy was gettin’ fat an’ ’e caught ’old of ’im and prodded ’im all over. He thought ’e felt something round ’is waist, but ’e couldn’t be sure, and Jimmy made such a noise that the other chaps interfered and told Bill to leave ’im alone. For a whole week we tried to find that money, and couldn’t, and Bill said it was a suspicious thing that Jimmy kept aft a good deal more than ’e used to, and ’e got an idea that the boy might ha’ ’idden it somewhere there. At the end of that time, ’owever, owing to our being short-’anded, Jimmy was sent for’ard to work as ordinary seaman, and it began to be quite noticeable the way ’e avoided Bill. At last one day we got ’im alone down the fo’c’sle, and Bill put ’is arm round ’im and got im on the locker and asked ’im straight out where the money was. “Why, I chucked it overboard,” he says. “I told you so afore. What a memory you’ve got, Bill!” Bill picked ’im up and laid ’im on the locker, and we searched ’im thoroughly. We even took ’is boots off, and then we ’ad another look in ’is bunk while ’e was putting ’em on ag’in. “If you’re innercent,” says Bill, “why don’t you call out?—eh?” “Because you told me not to say anything about it, Bill,” says the boy. “But I will next time. Loud, I will.” “Look ’ere,” says Bill, “you tell us where it is, and the three of us’ll go shares in it. That’ll be two ’undered pounds each, and we’ll tell you ’ow to get yours changed without getting caught. We’re cleverer than you are, you know.” “I know that, Bill,” says the boy; “but it’s no good me telling you lies. I chucked it overboard.” “Very good, then,” says Bill, getting up. “I’m going to tell the skipper.” “Tell ’im,” says Jimmy. “I don’t care.” “Then you’ll be searched _arter you’ve stepped ashore_,” says Bill, “and you won’t be allowed on the ship ag’in. You’ll lose it all by being greedy, whereas if you go shares with us you’ll ’ave two ’undered pounds.” I could see as ’ow the boy ’adn’t thought o’ that, and try as ’e would ’e couldn’t ’ide ’is feelin’s. He called Bill a red-nosed shark, and ’e called me somethin’ I’ve forgotten now. “Think it over,” says Bill; “mind, you’ll be collared as soon as you’ve left the gangway and searched by the police.” “And will they tickle the cook too, I wonder?” says Jimmy, savagely. “And if they find it you’ll go to prison,” says Bill, giving ’im a clump o’ the side o’ the ’ead, “and you won’t like that, I can tell you.” “Why, ain’t it nice, Bill?” says Jimmy, holding ’is ear.