was pleased with himself for having judged the man a sailor from the
start.

The sailor nodded his head lugubriously. Two more tears tumbled his
nose's length. Martin felt like laughing. It was ludicrous to connect
tears and this huge husky with the fierce voice.

The man of the sea resumed his plaint.

"What'll I say to the mate? What'll the mate say to me? Aye, that's
it, what'll the blessed, bleedin' little mate say to me? Swiggle me
stiff, I'll be keelhauled--that's what'll 'appen to me! And it all
begun so innercent, too!"

Martin murmured condolences.

"Come ashore on account of it being the mate's birthday," confided the
other. "'Ad to sneak ashore--come this morning. Wanted to get a
birthday present, we did. Swiggle me, could anything 'ave begun more
innercent!"

"Oh, a birthday present! You must like your officers," prompted Martin.

"Like! Like! Why, strike me, lad, we love the little mate! Ain't
anybody on the 'Appy Ship as don't love the mate, from the Old Man
down."

"Happy Ship?" said Martin, struck by the words' connotation. "Is that
the name of your vessel?"

"What we call 'er," the sailor answered. "'Er name is _Cohasset_--brig
_Cohasset_. I'm bosun, and Little Billy, 'e's steward, and a prime
steward 'e is."

The bosun of the brig _Cohasset_ paused and spat stringily.

Martin feared the font of his speech was dried up, and he hurriedly
bade Johnny replenish the glasses. The bosun acknowledged the office
with a lordly gesture. Then his grief overwhelmed him, and he bowed
his head over his glass and sniffed audibly. He cultivated
retrospection.

"I 'ad 'im all right at the Ferry Building," he told Martin tearfully.
"I 'ad Little Billy right enough, there."

He spoke as if he had Little Billy safely tucked under an arm at the
Ferry Building. He inspected Martin suspiciously, as if Martin might
have the missing steward concealed somewhere about his person.

"We was walking up Market Street," he continued, "sober as judges,
both. And Billy says a bokay was what we wanted for the little mate's
birthday. Fine, says I. A bokay of lilies, says 'e, because lilies
means purity. No, says I, they got to be roses, roses meanin' beauty.
And so we stops into a place or two to talk it over. Swiggle me stiff,
could anything 'ave begun more innercent? Just going to buy a bokay,
that's what! And now----"

The bosun sighed. He was crushed by the fell consequences of a
virt