“If you was my boy,” said Sam, breathing heavily, “I’d thrash you to within a inch of your life.” “If I was your boy I should drown myself,” said Henry very positively. Henry’s father had frequently had occasion to remark that his son favored his mother, and his mother possessed a tongue which was famed throughout Wapping, and obtained honorable mention in distant Limehouse. “You can’t expect discipline aboard a ship where the skipper won’t let you ’it the boy,” said Dick moodily. “It’s bad for ’im too.” “Don’t you worry about me, my lads,” said Henry with offensive patronage. “I can take care of myself all right. You ain’t seen _me_ come aboard so drunk that I’ve tried to get down the foc’sle without shoving the scuttle back. You never knew _me_ to buy a bundle o’ forged pawn-tickets. You never—” “Listen to ’im,” said Sam, growing purple; “I’ll be ’ung for ’im yet.” “If you ain’t, I will,” growled Dick, with whom the matter of the pawn-tickets was a sore subject. “Boy!” yelled the mate, thrusting his head out at the companion. “Coming, sir!” said Henry. “Sorry I can’t stop any longer,” he said politely; “but me an’ the mate’s going to have a little chat.” “I’ll have to get another ship,” said Dick, watching the small spindly figure as it backed down the companion-ladder. “I never was on a ship afore where the boy could do as he liked.” Sam shook his head and sighed. “It’s the best ship I was ever on, barrin’ that,” he said sternly. “What’ll ’e be like when he grows up?” demanded Dick, as he lost himself in the immensity of the conjecture. “It ain’t right t’ the boy to let him go on like that. One good hidin’ a week would do ’im good and us too.” Meantime the object of their care had reached the cabin, and, leaning against the fireplace, awaited the mate’s pleasure. “Where’s the cap’n?” demanded the latter, plunging at once into the subject. Henry turned and looked at the small clock. “Walkin’ up and down a street in Gravesend,” he said deliberately. “Oh, you’ve got the second-sight, I s’pose,” said the mate reddening. “And what’s he doing that for?” “To see ’er come out,” said the boy. The mate restrained himself, but with difficulty. “And what’ll he do when she does come out?” he demanded. “Nothin’,” replied the seer with conviction. “What are you lookin’ for?” he inquired, with a trace of anxiety in his voice, as the mate rose from the locker, and, raising the lid, began groping for something in the depths. “Bit o’ rope,” was the reply. “Well, what did yer ask me for?” said Henry with hasty tearfulness. “It’s the truth. ’E won’t do nothin’; ’e never does—only stares.” “D’you mean to say you ain’t been gammoning me?” demanded the mate, seizing him by the collar. “Come and see for yourself,” said Henry. The mate released him, and stood eyeing him with a puzzled expression as a thousand-and-one little eccentricities on the part of the skipper suddenly occurred to him.