arding-masters are persons of
weight and influence in 'Frisco town, and, although John had nearly
eight months' pay due to him, it would be considered a weakness, a sort
of confession of Jack's importance, for the Captain to disburse on his
account. It being the beginning of a week, we could only muster a few
dollars among us, so we applied to James Peden, a man of substance on
the Front, for assistance and advice.

James was from Dundee. After a varied career as seaman, whaleman,
boarding-house keeper, gold seeker, gravedigger, and beach-comber, he
had taken to decent ways and now acted as head-foreman to a firm of
stevedores. He was an office-bearer of the local Scottish Society,
talked braid Scots on occasions (though his command of Yankee slang
when stimulating his men in the holds was finely complete), and wore a
tartan neck-tie that might aptly be called a gathering of the clans.

To James we stated our case when he came aboard to see that his
'boy-ees made things hum.' It was rather a delicate matter to do this
properly, as we had to leave it to inference that James's knowledge of
these matters was that of a reputable foreman stevedore, and not that
of a quondam boarding-master whose exploits in the 'crimping' business
were occasionally referred to when men talked, with a half-laugh, of
shady doings. It was nicely done, though, and James, recalling a
parallel case that occurred to a man, "whom he knew," was pessimistic.

"Weel, lauds, Ah guess Joan Welsh 'r Welsh Joan 'll be ootward bound
afore the morn's nicht. They'll pit 'm up afore Judge Kelly, a bluidy
Fenian, wha'll gie 'm 'ten dollars or fourteen days' fur bein' a
British sailorman alane. Pluggin' a Dutchman 's naethin'; it's th'
'Rid Rag' that Kelly's doon oan. Ah ken the swine; he touched me
twinty dollars fur gie'n a winchman a clout i' the lug--an ill-faured
Dago wi' a haun' on 's knife. Ah guess there's nae chance for a
lime-juicer up-bye, an' ye may take it that yer man 'll be fined. Noo,
withoot sayin' ony mair aboot it, ye ken fine that yer Captain 's no'
gaun tae pey 't. Wi' nae sicht o' a charter an' th' chances o' 's ship
bein' laid bye fur a whilie, he'll no' be wantin' mair men aboard, 'n
Ahm thinkin' he'll no' be sorry tae see th' last o' this Joan Welsh.
This is whaur Daly 'll come in. He'll offer t' pey th' fine, an' yer
man, wi' seeven weeks' hospital ahint 'm, an' the prospeck o' a
fortnicht's jile afore 'm, 'll jump at th'