With his extraordinary quickness and the perseverance he always had when he wished a thing very much, he made himself a complete master of this occult science before he left school, two or three years later: it took _me_ seven years--beginning when I was four! It does equally well for French or English, and it played an important part in Barty's career. My sister knew it, but imperfectly; my mother not at all--for all she tried so hard and was so persevering; it must be learnt young. As far as I am aware, no one else knows it in England or France--or even the world--although it is such a useful invention; quite a marvel of simple ingenuity when one has mastered the symbols, which certainly take a long time and a deal of hard work. Barty and I got to talk it on our fingers as rapidly as ordinary speech and with the slightest possible gestures: this was _his_ improvement. * * * * * Barty came back from his holidays full of Whitby, and its sailors and whalers, and fishermen and cobles and cliffs--all of which had evidently had an immense attraction for him. He was always fond of that class; possibly also some vague atavistic sympathy for the toilers of the sea lay dormant in his blood like an inherited memory. And he brought back many tokens of these good people's regard--two formidable clasp-knives (for each of which he had to pay the giver one farthing in current coin of the realm); spirit-flasks, leather bottles, jet ornaments; woollen jerseys and comforters knitted for him by their wives and daughters; fossil ammonites and coprolites; a couple of young sea-gulls to add to his menagerie; and many old English marine ditties, which he had to sing to M. Bonzig with his now cracked voice, and then translate into French. Indeed, Bonzig and Barty became inseparable companions during the Thursday promenade, on the strength of their common interest in ships and the sea; and Barty never wearied of describing the place he loved, nor Bonzig of listening and commenting. "Ah! mon cher! ce que je donnerais, moi, pour voir le retour d'un baleinier à Ouittebé! Quelle 'marine' ça ferait! hein? avec la grande falaise, et la bonne petite église en haut, près de la Vieille Abbaye--et les toits rouges qui fument, et les trois jetées en pierre, et le vieux pont-levis--et toute cette grouille de mariniers avec leurs femmes et leurs enfants--et ces braves filles qui attendent le retour du bien-aimé! nom d'un nom! dire que vous avez vu tout ça, vous--qui n'avez pas encore seize ans ... quelle chance!... dites--qu'est-ce que ça veut bien dire, ce 'Ouïle mé sekile rô!' Chantez-moi ça encore une fois!" And Barty, whose voice was breaking, would raucously sing him the good old ditty for the sixth time: "Weel may the keel row, the keel row, the keel row, Weel may the keel row That brings my laddie home!" which he would find rather difficult to render literally into colloquial seafaring French!