Pincher Martin, O.D.: A Story of the Inner Life of the Royal Navy

II

'Ain't got a fill o' bacca abart yer, 'ave yer?' asked Joshua Billings, A.B., producing an abbreviated, blackened, and very foul clay pipe from the lining of his cap and gazing at it pensively. It was twelve-forty-five P.M., the middle of the dinner-hour, and Joshua, having just assimilated his tot of navy rum, was at peace with himself and the world in general.

'Sorry,' Martin answered, 'I ain't got nothin' but fags.'

'Fags!' the able seaman growled. 'Why you young blokes smokes nothin' but them things I dunno. They tastes like smokin' 'ay. W'en I fu'st jined I takes up me pun' o' bacca reg'lar, an' I done it ever since. It's got some taste abart it. Fags! S'welp me, I dunno wot th' blessed navy's comin' to!'

Martin looked rather sheepish.

Billings grinned. 'Seein' as 'ow you ain't got no bacca, then I s'pose I've got ter use me own,' he went on, producing a well-filled pouch from the waistband of his trousers, and proceeding to ram some coarse, dark tobacco into his pipe. 'I never believes in usin' me own s'long as I kin git a fill orf another bloke. Got a match?'

The ordinary seaman handed a box across, and his companion lit up.

'Comin' ashore along o' me this arternoon?' Joshua asked, puffing out a cloud of smoke with a satisfied grunt.

Martin thought for a moment. For an ordinary seaman to be asked to go ashore with a man of Billings's age was undoubtedly a great honour; but, at the same time, he was rather doubtful as to what might happen. Joshua, on his own statement, had an unquenchable thirst for malt liquor, and always felt 'dizzy like' outside public-houses, and Martin had no wish to join him in a carouse, with the prospect of ending the afternoon under the supervision of the local constabulary.

'Goin' on th' razzle?'¹⁶ he asked cautiously.

Billings laughed. 'Razzle!' he exclaimed. 'No, I ain't on that lay. I'll 'ave jist one pint w'en I gits ashore, but no more'n that. The fac' o' the matter is, Pincher, I'm in love.' He paused to give his words time to sink in.

'In love!' Martin echoed with some astonishment.

The A.B. nodded gravely. 'Yus,' he said; 'an' I want some one to come along an' 'old me 'and like, some bloke wot looks young an' innercent like you.' He endeavoured to look young and innocent himself, gazed heavenwards with a rapt expression on his homely face, contorted his mouth into what he considered was a sweet smile, and sighed deeply. 'I tell yer,' he added, resuming his normal appearance and winking solemnly, 'she's a bit o' orl right, an' I reckons she's took a fancy ter me. Leastways she 'inted that she'd come to th' pictures along o' me ter-night if I arsked 'er polite like, an' 'ave a bit o' somethin' t' eat arterwards.'

'You in love!' Martin gasped again, for to him it seemed impossible that any woman could succumb to the doubtful charms of the hoary-headed old reprobate. 'Garn! you're 'avin' me on.'

Joshua seemed rather annoyed. 'Oh no, I ain't,' he retorted testily. 'An' if yer gits talkin' like that me an' you'll part brassrags.¹⁷ She ain't th' sort o' 'ooman ter take a fancy to a young bloke. Wot she wants is some one ter look arter 'er an' 'er property. A bloke wi' hexperience, the same as me.'

'Property! 'Oo is she, then?'

'You mustn't go tellin' the other blokes if I tells yer,' Billings said, sinking his voice to a whisper. 'Promise yer won't.'

'Orl right, I won't.'

'She's a widder 'ooman wot keeps a sweet an' bacca shop, an' sells noospapers. She's makin' a good thing out o' it, too – clearin' 'bout three pun' a week, she sez she is; an' as my time's comin' along for pension, it's abart time I started lookin' round fur somethin' ter do w'en I leaves the navy. She ain't no young an' flighty female neither, I gives yer my word. Got a growed-up darter, she 'as, seventeen year old, an' I reckons it's abart time th' poor gal 'ad another father ter look arter 'er. You see,' he added, 'if I gits married to th' old un orl the blokes wot knows me'll come to the shop to buy their fags an' noospapers, so it ain't as if I was bringin' nothin' to th' business. I'm a bloke wi' inflooence, I am. 'Er larst 'usband drove a cab, 'e did, an' I reckons she's betterin' 'erself by marryin' a bloke wot's bin in the navy.'

'An' wot's this 'ere gal o' 'ers like?' Pincher wanted to know. 'Is she a cosy bit o' fluff too?'

'Cosy bit o' fluff!' exclaimed Joshua with some warmth. 'Wot d'yer mean, yer lop-eared tickler?¹⁸ She ain't fur the likes o' you, any'ow.'

'Oh, ain't she?' Martin retorted. 'Well, I ain't comin' ashore along o' yer, then!'

''Ere, don't git yer dander up,' Billings interrupted, changing his tone; 'I didn't mean nothin'.' He was really very anxious that Martin should accompany him, for he had a vague idea in his head that the presence of a younger man would lend tone to the proceedings, and to him a certain air of respectability.

'Don't act so snappy, then,' the ordinary seaman returned. 'I'm as good as any other bloke.' He remembered that he was a member of the ship's football team, and this alone made him a person of some importance.

'Well, if yer really wants ter know, th' gal's name's Hemmeline, an' she's walkin' out wi' a ship's stooard's assistant bloke from the flagship.'

'Ship's stooards ain't no class!' Pincher snorted, expanding his chest to its full capacity. 'They ain't fightin' blokes same as me an' you.'

'No, they ain't,' Billings agreed, puffing slowly at his pipe. 'They ain't got no prospex neither. Look 'ere, Pincher,' he added, 'she's only bin along wi' 'im fur a week, an' if yer fancies 'er, my inflooence wi' 'er ma' —

'Meanin' that I can take 'er out?' Martin queried.

Joshua nodded. 'That's the wheeze,' he said, expectorating with deadly precision into a spit-kid at least eight feet distant.

'But wot's she look like?' Pincher demanded with caution. Up to the present he had felt rather frightened of women; but to have a proper sweetheart in tow was one of the things he really longed for. It would complete his new-found manhood. But he had his own ideas of feminine beauty, and, whatever happened, the young lady must be pretty.

Billings grinned. 'She's orl right,' he explained. 'She ain't 'xactly tall, nor yet 'xactly short. Sort o' betwixt an' between like. She ain't too fat, nor yet too lean; she's sort o' plump. Yaller 'air, she 'as, an' blue eyes, an' plays th' pianner wonderful, 'er ma sez.'

This rather vague description of the fair Emmeline's charms seemed quite enough for Martin. 'She sounds orl right,' he said. 'I think I'll come along o' you.'

Joshua seemed rather pleased. 'That's th' ticket,' he said. 'We goes ashore in th' four o'clock boat, mind. Say, chum,' he added in a hoarse whisper, 'you ain't got 'arf-a-dollar to lend us, 'ave yer?'

Martin looked rather dubious. ''Arf-a-dollar!' he sniffed.

'Yus,' urged the A.B. 'I've only got three bob o' me own, an' I've got ter take th' lady to th' pictures, an' give 'er a bit o' supper arterwards. The show's orf 'less I kin raise some splosh some'ow. W'y don't yer come along too, an' bring the gal?'

'Carn't do it,' the ordinary seaman murmured. 'Me leaf's up at seven, an' I don't want to go gittin' in th' rattle fur breakin' it. But I'll lend yer a couple o' bob if yer promises faithful to pay me back. I'll give it yer afore we goes ashore.'

'Good on yer, chum,' said Billings effusively. 'I reckons yer knows 'ow to be'ave to blokes wot takes a hinterest in yer. You take my tip, though,' he added, wagging an admonitory forefinger. 'Don't yer go lendin' money to any other blokes wot ain't fit to be trusted.'

'I'll watch it,' Martin laughed.

And so it was arranged, and this was how Pincher Martin embarked on his first love affair.

CHAPTER VII
AN AFFAIR OF THE HEART

I

Miss Emmeline Figgins was a well-built, capable-looking young lady of seventeen. She wore her hair neatly coiled in a golden aureole on the top of her head. Her blue eyes were attractive and full of mirth, her mouth was well-shaped, and she possessed a pair of very red lips and twin rows of even white teeth. She seemed literally bursting with health, and her rosy, slightly sunburnt cheeks somehow reminded Pincher of the girls at home in his own village. She was dressed in a white blouse and plain dark-blue skirt, and a small gold locket hung round her neck.

The first time Martin saw her standing behind the counter in the little sweet and tobacco shop he thought her quite adorable. He experienced a vague feeling of jealousy when he saw the locket, though, for he thought it probable that it contained the photograph of the ship's steward's assistant from the flagship.

Billings, strangely redolent of violets – he had purchased a pennyworth of cachous subsequent to absorbing one pint of beer immediately on getting ashore – advanced with a sheepish grin. Martin followed close behind.

'Good-evenin', miss,' the former remarked, touching his forelock. 'I 'ope I finds yer well?'

The girl laughed. 'Thank you, Mister Billings,' she said; 'I am enjoying the best of health, and I hope you are the same.' She regarded Pincher out of the corner of her eye; and that youth, very ill at ease, shuffled nervously and began to get red in the face. He was always rather frightened of women.

'I'm quite fit, miss,' said Joshua. 'This 'ere's Mr Martin – Pincher Martin we calls 'im. Friend o' mine, 'e is. Brought 'im along o' me ter be interjooced.' He pushed the ordinary seaman forward by the arm.

'Pleased ter meet yer, miss,' said Pincher awkwardly, advancing and shaking hands over a row of glass bottles filled with sweets. 'I've 'eard a lot abart yer from my frien' Mister Billings.'

The A.B. warned him of his indiscretion by a violent nudge in the side.

'I'm glad I'm a celebrity,' the girl remarked, a trifle suspiciously. 'And what did Mr Billings say about me? I hope it was something nice.'

'Where's yer ma, miss?' Joshua himself interrupted, hastily changing the subject.

'She's out now, Mr Billings, but she'll be back home to tea at half-past five. She's expecting you then, I believe; and if this gentleman would join us I'm sure he'd be very welcome.' She looked at Martin.

'Wot say, Pincher?' asked Joshua with a wink. 'Like ter 'ave a cup o' tea wi' th' ladies?'

'Don't mind if I does,' said the youth shyly.

'Needn't come if you don't want to, mister,' the girl retorted sarcastically, tossing her head. 'There are plenty who'd be glad to be asked.'

Pincher felt more awkward and sheepish than ever. 'I should like ter come, miss, thankin' yer for yer kindness in arskin' me,' he managed to stammer. 'No offence meant, I'm sure, miss. 'Fraid I said it a bit awk'ard like.'

'No offence taken,' laughed Emmeline, moving off to attend to three customers.

'Now, Mister Billings,' she said, coming back in a few minutes, 'I can't stand gossiping here all the afternoon. This is our busy time, and the shop will be filling up soon, and I sha'n't know whether I'm standing on my head or my heels. What with mother being out, and that plaguy boy having a holiday, I don't know how I shall be able to manage. If you drop in again at half-past five, mother will be in then. Is there anything I can serve you with before you go?'

'I'll 'ave two packets o' woodbines, miss,' Joshua had to reply, quite forgetting that he did not smoke cigarettes, but unable to ignore the hint. He put down twopence. – 'Wot abart you, Pincher?'

Martin looked blankly round the shop.

'A penn'orth of bull's-eyes or almond rock?' suggested the girl, with a malicious twinkle in her eyes. 'Or perhaps you'd fancy some jujubes or acid drops, fresh in to-day?'

'Thank you, miss, I don't fancy sweets,' the ordinary seaman returned, painfully aware that he was being made fun of. 'I'll 'ave one o' them there packets o' Egyptian fags. The sixpenny ones.'

'We generally call them cigarettes,' Emmeline remarked.

'Lor,' Billings ejaculated, 'we ain't 'arf goin' a bu'st!'

'Let the boy have what he wants, mister,' retorted Miss Figgins tartly, her business instinct uppermost, and a little anxious lest Pincher should change his mind and choose something cheaper. 'They're very good cigarettes, I'm sure, and excellent value for the money. Don't know what he wants to go smoking for, though,' she added sweetly, gazing at Pincher with an innocent smile. 'I'm sure sweets are more in his line.'

Joshua laughed, but Martin felt he had never been so insulted in his life. 'Boy,' indeed! She had called him a boy, and had offered him sweets!

More prospective customers arrived; and, paying for their purchases, the two bluejackets started to leave the establishment, when Billings, remembering something rather important, turned back. 'Say, miss,' he queried in an anxious, confidential whisper in the young lady's ear, 'did yer ma say anythin' abart comin' ter the pictures along o' me ter-night?'

Emmeline paused in the act of weighing out half-an-ounce of shag tobacco and laughed merrily. 'Go on with you!' she exclaimed roguishly. 'You're a proper caution, Mister Billings!'

'Did she say nothin' abart it?'

'I'm not my mother's keeper. She said nothing to me.'

'Sure?' queried the lovesick one, rather disappointed.

The girl winked twice and pointed to the door. 'Hop it!' she giggled. 'Don't come worrying round me when I'm busy with customers. Take your Mister – er – Martin with you; and if I were you I should buy him' – she sank her voice to a whisper and glanced in Pincher's direction – 'a nice rattle! Ta-ta; see you both later.'

'Wot did she say yer wus ter buy me?' Martin wanted to know when they got outside.

'Didn't 'ear, chum,' Joshua answered hastily, unwilling to hurt the other's feelings. 'Wot d' yer think o' 'er? Bit o' orl right – wot?'

'She looks orl right,' Martin agreed, rather depressed. 'But she seems a bit 'orty-like for a kid o' seventeen. Tryin' ter 'ave me on, she was, abart them there sweets.'

'Garn! That's only 'er way. She don't mean nothin'. Yer carn't expec' a gal ter take a fancy ter a bloke orl of a sudden like. Don't get rattled abart wot she said. Come on,' Joshua added, glancing at a clock in a jeweller's window. 'It's only a quarter ter five, plenty o' time ter go an' 'ave a wet afore we goes back there ter tea.' He made off across the road in the direction of a public-house.

'No, yer bloomin' well don't!' Pincher exclaimed, overtaking him, seizing him by the arm, and swinging him round in the opposite direction. 'Yer said yer was only goin' ter 'ave one pint. S'welp me, yer did.'

'Don't act so barmy, Pincher,' Joshua expostulated, bitterly aggrieved. 'W'en I sez a pint I only means a pint directly I gits ashore. I didn't say 'ow much I'd 'ave arterwards.'

'Well, yer ain't goin' ter 'ave one now, any'ow,' Martin retorted. 'If you goes drinkin' now, I sha'n't come ter tea along o' yer an' Missis Figgins; an' I wants me two bob back, strite, I do.'

'Wot d' yer want ter go spoilin' a chap's bit o' sport fur?' Billings grumbled feelingly. 'I'm that dry I could jist do wi' a pint. No more'n a pint, I promises yer.'

But Pincher was adamant. 'If yer feels dry yer kin go and buy yerself some lemonade. Yer don't git no beer while yer along o' me.'

'Lemonade! 'Oo wants lemonade, 'orrible pisenous stuff full o' hacids an' sich like! Only fit fur kids ter swaffle!'

'Yer won't git no beer, so it ain't no use yer talkin'.'

'Oh, ain't it bloomin' well?' the A.B. exclaimed, beginning to get angry. 'Yer ain't lookin' arter me, yer knows. It's me wot's lookin' arter you.'

Pincher held out his hand. 'Orl right, then,' he said quietly; 'give me back me two bob wot yer borrowed.'

Joshua glared at him in speechless astonishment 'Give it back to yer?' he almost shouted. 'Not 'arf I don't!'

'Orl right. S' long, then; I'm not comin' along ter tea wi' Missis Figgins. Yer knows werry well yer carn't go takin' ladies along ter th' pictures if yer starts drinkin' now.' Martin pretended to move off.

There was some truth in the remark, and Billings felt rather foolish. ''Ere, 'arf a mo'!' he expostulated. 'Don't shove orf. Look 'ere, chum; she 'as a drop 'erself now an' then. Allus 'as a bottle o' stout along wi' 'er dinner, an' another along o' 'er supper. Told me so 'erself.' He looked hopefully to see if this information would have the desired effect, but Martin merely shook his head.

It took at least five minutes further argument, and much backing and filling between the two pavements, before Billings could be drawn off from the glaring portals of the 'Rose and Crown.' He seemed attracted to the place like a steel filing to a magnet; and it was all Martin could do to entice him away. But he succeeded eventually, and, with Joshua still complaining bitterly, the two adventurers entered a barber's shop to have their hair cut.

At five-thirty precisely they both returned to the shop to find Mrs Figgins there. She was a short, bulbous little woman of uncertain age, with her dark hair, slightly streaked with gray, drawn tightly over her head and tied in a knob behind. Except for her blue eyes, which twinkled through her spectacles as she talked, she bore little resemblance to her daughter, but, for all that, possessed a certain vivacity of manner and speech which more than made up for lack of good looks. She greeted them with cordiality.

'It's pleased I am to see you an' your friend, Mister Billings,' she said, when Pincher had been solemnly introduced. 'Such a day I 'ave 'ad you never would believe. Went to see my poor John's brother's wife at Dorchester. 'Er youngest, Halfred, 'im that was born last Easter, 'as come out all over in red spots, an' the doctor doesn't know wot to make of 'em. 'E's a fraud, I think,' she went on – speaking with great rapidity, and nodding her head to emphasise the point – 'a reg'lar fraud, same as all doctors. I don't 'old wi' them an' their speriments. I said to Jane that the boy was sickenin' for measles, 'cause the spots are the same as wot Hemmeline 'ad when she was a baby; but the doctor' —

'Measles!' Joshua ejaculated, with vague visions of being put in quarantine. 'Infectious, ain't it?'

'Don't be scared,' the lady laughed. 'It's all right so long as you've 'ad it before. – Hemmeline!'

'Yes, mother?' came the girl's answer from the sitting-room at the back of the shop.

'Is that kettle boilin' yet? 'Ere's Mister Billings an' 'is friend ready for their teas.'

'All ready, mother. Look out you shut the outer door in case of customers coming.'

Mrs Figgins shut the door, and then ushered her guests into the sitting-room. It was a bright little apartment, with a cheerful fire blazing in an old-fashioned grate, before which, judging from the smell, Emmeline had been making hot buttered toast. The room was crammed with furniture, and was decorated with china ornaments, velvet hangings, and pictures, conspicuous among these being a large photographic enlargement of the late Mr John Figgins. It hung in a massive gilt frame, and the defunct gentleman was shown in black cut-away coat, dark trousers, high choker collar, white tie, and a very shiny top-hat. He gripped a walking-stick and a pair of gloves in one hand, while the other rested in négligé fashion upon a large marble column bearing a very palpable imitation palm. He had side whiskers and rather a fierce expression. There were also three large, highly coloured oleographs. One depicted the late Queen Victoria at the time of her 1887 Jubilee; another, entitled 'Lead, Kindly Light,' showed a sailing-ship in dangerous proximity to the Eddystone Lighthouse during a terrible storm; and the third, some immaculate soldiers in tight red tunics saying good-bye to a number of lachrymose, slim-waisted ladies on the platform at Waterloo Station. They were, it would appear, about to sail for South Africa – the soldiers, I mean, not the ladies.

On the mantelpiece stood a cabinet photograph of Joshua Billings in an ornate aluminium frame painted with forget-me-nots. The original glanced at it with a self-conscious smirk. It had been his last present to Mrs Figgins, and he felt it augured well for his prospects to see it in the place of honour.

But Pincher was not so much interested in the appearance of the room as in that of the round table in the centre of the apartment. It was spread for tea, and such a tea! There was a fine crusty cottage loaf and a generous plate of sliced ham; a mountain of shrimps lay cheek by jowl with an enormous pot of jam; while rounds of hot buttered toast, a large currant-cake, and a pile of mixed pastry stood on the outskirts of the more substantial comestibles. Martin sucked his teeth appreciatively. There were only four places laid, he was glad to see. The ship's steward's assistant from the flagship was evidently not coming.

Mrs Figgins settled herself in front of the teapot, and began pouring out, keeping up a rapid flow of conversation the while. 'Mister Billings,' she said, motioning with her head to the place on her right, 'will you sit 'ere? an' you, Mister Martin, 'ere? Hemmeline will be opposite me. I 'ope you will 'elp yourselves to anything you fancy, and if hanybody likes heggs, I've got some werry nice ones fresh in from the country to-day. My poor John was fond of a hegg to 'is tea,' she added, gazing sadly at the representation of her late husband.

'I reckons we kin do werry well wi' wot we 'ave 'ere,' remarked Billings, glancing round the table with an approving smile, and helping himself to ham and hot buttered toast. 'Thank yer, Missis Figgins,' he continued, 'two lumps fur me.' He took the proffered cup with a coy smile, put it down, and began to masticate noisily.

Pincher fancied shrimps to start with; but Emmeline, who had her own ideas as to how a lady should behave, scorned the more substantial eatables, and nibbled daintily at a piece of thin bread and jam.

''Ave a bit of 'am, my gal,' said her mother, helping herself to that delicacy, and handing the plate across.

'No, thanks, mother. I'll spoil my supper if I do.'

'Quite right, miss,' murmured Billings, with his mouth rather full. 'I never could understan' 'ow folks wot 'as a reg'lar supper kin stow their kites full at tea-time. 'Orrible 'abit, I calls it. On board, ye see,' he hastened to explain, lest he himself should be thought a glutton, 'we 'as a sort o' 'igh tea, an' a bit o' biscuit or sich like fur our suppers. It ain't wot you'd call a proper meal.'

Martin gasped. He knew that on board the Belligerent Joshua frequently had kippers for his tea, while six rashers of bacon and six fried eggs often formed his evening meal at a quarter past seven.

Emmeline raised her eyebrows. 'Kites?' she asked, rather surprised. 'What's kites?'

'Stummick, 'e means, miss,' put in Pincher, anxious to air his knowledge. 'Mister Billings' – He heard a horrified gasp, looked up, saw Emmeline frowning at him fiercely, thought better of what he was going to say, and then stared at his plate, with his face getting redder and redder. He had evidently put his foot into it rather badly.

But the girl did not intend to let him off. 'We don't mention those things in polite society,' she pointed out acidly. 'It's not nice.'

Pincher said nothing, but wished that the floor might open and swallow him whole.

'Yer promised ye'd come along o' me ter th' pictures ter-night, Missis Figgins,' remarked Joshua, finishing his ham and looking round the table. 'Thought we'd go an' 'ave a bit o' supper at a restorong arterwards.'

'Promised you, did I?' the widow returned, handing him a plate of jam-puffs with a sweet smile.' 'Ave one o' these? Or do you fancy a piece o' cake? It's 'ome-made.'

Joshua helped himself to the pastry. 'Yus,' he said, 'yer promised ye'd come.'

'Oh, did I?' the lady said archly, determined to keep him on tenter-hooks. 'Think I've got nothin' to do but to go to them silly pictures? 'Oo's goin' to mind the shop, I should like to know?'

'I don't want to go out, mother,' Emmeline put in.

'Course you don't, my gal,' said her mother. 'It's not respectable for gals to be hout after dark unless they're hescorted.'

'No,' Billings agreed, pausing in the act of biting a large chunk off his jam-puff; 'it ain't fit an' proper fur gals o' your age to go abart unpertected like.'

Emmeline glared at him. 'Oh, isn't it?' she retorted. 'And who asked you to put your oar in, Mister Billings? I'll have you know I'm quite capable of looking after myself, and I wouldn't go along of you if you were the last man on earth. You'd best take mother along to the pictures, and not worry your head about what I'm going to do.' She tossed her head.

Billings, covered with confusion, retired from the contest and resumed his meal.

Mrs Figgins, anxious to keep the peace, looked up apprehensively. 'No need to let your tongue run away wi' you, Hemmeline,' she chided. 'Mister Billings agrees wi' what I think about it, an' there's no call for you to get snappy. – All right, Josh – Mister Billings,' she added; 'I'll come with you. What about your friend?'

Joshua, insinuating a massive fist under the tablecloth, squeezed his loved one affectionately by the hand. 'That's orl right,' he murmured, greatly relieved and very happy.

'But what about Mister Martin?'

''Is leaf's up at seven,' Joshua explained. ''E carn't come.'

'Thank goodness for that!' Emmeline remarked with a loud sniff. What she meant exactly Pincher could not imagine, but it was quite obvious that she meant to hurt his feelings. She succeeded, for he felt more of a fool than ever; and it was just as well, perhaps, that at that moment the shop door opened with a clang to admit a customer, and the girl left the room.

From a purely gastronomic point of view, though Martin did not do full justice to it, the meal was undoubtedly a success; but he returned to the ship that evening in a very saddened frame of mind. He was bitterly disappointed with Emmeline. She was pretty and attractive, he felt bound to admit; but it was only too evident that she was not the least taken with him, and, moreover, had no hesitation in showing it. She had a nasty, snappy way of saying things, too. Billings had wilfully misled him, and had borrowed two shillings under false pretences. He had led Pincher to believe that he would be received with open arms; but all that Joshua really cared about, apparently, was the feathering of his own downy nest, ungrateful old sinner that he was! Drat Billings! Drat Emme – No; drat the ship's steward's assistant from the flagship!