bit of dinner, you know, Mr.
Pinkerton."

"Where's your mate?" snapped Jim.

"He's up town," returned the other.

"Up town!" sneered Pinkerton. "Now, I'll tell you what you are: you're a
Fraud; and if I wasn't afraid of dirtying my boot, I would kick you and
your dinner into that dock."

"I'll tell you something, too," retorted the captain, duskily flushing.
"I wouldn't sail this ship for the man you are, if you went upon your
knees. I've dealt with gentlemen up to now."

"I can tell you the names of a number of gentlemen you'll never deal
with any more, and that's the whole of Longhurst's gang," said Jim.
"I'll put your pipe out in that quarter, my friend. Here, rout out your
traps as quick as look at it, and take your vermin along with you. I'll
have a captain in, this very night, that's a sailor, and some sailors to
work for him."

"I'll go when I please, and that's to-morrow morning," cried the captain
after us, as we departed for the shore.

"There's something gone wrong with the world to-day; it must have come
bottom up!" wailed Pinkerton. "Bellairs, and then the hotel clerk,
and now This Fraud! And what am I to do for a captain, Loudon, with
Longhurst gone home an hour ago, and the boys all scattered?"

"I know," said I. "Jump in!" And then to the driver: "Do you know Black
Tom's?"

Thither then we rattled; passed through the bar, and found (as I had
hoped) Johnson in the enjoyment of club life. The table had been
thrust upon one side; a South Sea merchant was discoursing music from a
mouth-organ in one corner; and in the middle of the floor Johnson and
a fellow-seaman, their arms clasped about each other's bodies, somewhat
heavily danced. The room was both cold and close; a jet of gas,
which continually menaced the heads of the performers, shed a coarse
illumination; the mouth-organ sounded shrill and dismal; and the faces
of all concerned were church-like in their gravity. It were, of course,
indelicate to interrupt these solemn frolics; so we edged ourselves to
chairs, for all the world like belated comers in a concert-room, and
patiently waited for the end. At length the organist, having exhausted
his supply of breath, ceased abruptly in the middle of a bar. With
the cessation of the strain, the dancers likewise came to a full stop,
swayed a moment, still embracing, and then separated and looked about
the circle for applause.

"Very well danced!" said one; but it appears the compliment was not
s