ted with silver plumes.
Without analyzing the causes of the change, Mr. Spokesly felt more
cheerful. He would go to the paymaster commander, who was in the Olympos
Palace Hotel, and get the price of a drink anyway. He put his hands in
his pockets and whistled. His hand had closed over the ring. He thought
of Archy, the shiningly successful one, the paladin of pilferers, the
financial genius, down among the crawfish and awaiting those things he
saw on a stall just over there, eight-armed horrors with enormous bald
heads and bulging eyes and hooked beaks. And as he came to the corner of
the Place de la Liberte, he encountered a gentleman in the uniform of a
lieutenant of reserve. He was an elderly person, with the subdued air of
those men who have somehow attained to a command without ever making any
mistakes or achieving any remarkable successes. His uniform was badly
cut, his trousers bagged at the knees, and a large blue anchor was
tattooed on his left hand. But to Mr. Spokesly he was an angel. He was
not surprised when this person made some trivial remark to open the
conversation. And it soon appeared that he, too, was nursing a
grievance.

"What? You off the _Tanganyika_? Why, you only went out yesterday. No,
the day before. Dear, dear! And what are they going to do with you?"

"Want me to go up the Persian Gulf third watch-keeper of a
six-hundred-ton coaster," said Mr. Spokesly, feeling the ring in his
pocket and scowling.

"Ah! Just fancy that."

"And I been mate this six years, mind you."

"Just so. How about a drink? Floka's, you know, just up here. I quite
understand," this elderly angel added, raising his hand. "This is all on
me, if you don't mind."

"But I can't really, Mister. Not from a stranger," protested Mr.
Spokesly.

"Well, call it a loan, then, until you can see the paymaster. Here, take
these two notes. There now! You owe me a sovereign, eh? Here we are."

Mr. Spokesly would have had some trouble in admitting it, but the fact
remains that as they sat down at one of Floka's little tables and his
new friend asked him if he could do with a gin and bitters, he could
scarcely answer because he was on the verge of tears. After the icy
courtesy of the navy, for the officers of the sloop had not permitted
him to forget for a moment that he was only a seaman, this warm human
kindliness was almost too much. It really would have been a good thing
for him if he had been able to have what is called a go