The first two men who came ashore had friends waiting for them, so that
Charlie had no opportunity of speaking to them. The third man to come
ashore had no one waiting for him. He was a short, bow-legged little
man, with a goatee beard and a small brass ring in the lobe of each ear.
Charlie spoke to him.

'Thank you, sir,' the man answered, as he took the tobacco which Charlie
offered. 'Smoking is not allowed here, so I will save it till I get
outside the gates.'

'Are you a Grimsby man?' Charlie asked.

'No fear. I come from Gorleston. If this was Yarmouth I should be able
to enjoy myself at home, but as it's Grimsby I don't expect to have much
of an evening.'

Charlie felt that he had come across the very man he wanted.

'Come to my hotel and have a chat,' he suggested. 'I want some
information about North Sea fishermen.'

'Certainly, sir. Are you a journalist?'

The bow-legged fisherman had a great respect for journalists, having on
one occasion received from a newspaper representative a good big 'tip'
for describing how a trawler worked.

Charlie could not, however, by the greatest stretch of imagination, call
himself a journalist, and so he ignored the question put to him. The
fisherman put his silence down to modesty.

The hotel at which Charlie had taken a room was close to the docks, and,
therefore, the manager and waiters were not horrified, as they would
have been at a London hotel, at seeing a rough fisherman brought into
the building.

After Charlie had seen that the man had some food, they went to his
sitting-room.

'I'm happy now, sir,' the fisherman declared, having lighted a pipe and
thrown himself back into a roomy chair.

For a few minutes there was silence. Then Charlie said, 'I should very
much like to make a trip to the North Sea on a steam trawler.'

'I should not advise you to do so, sir. A trawler is no place for a
gentleman.'

'Nevertheless, I mean to go out in one.'

'Ah! I see your game, sir. You have heard what a rough time we fellows
have in the North Sea, and you have come down here to get information,
and then put it in a London newspaper. But it's no good, sir. There's no
skipper in the North Sea who wouldn't guess what you were up to, and
make some excuse for not taking you aboard his ship. You must give up
the idea, sir.'

'I mean to get a job on a trawler, and go to sea as an ordinary
fisherman. Then I shall be able to obtain, from personal observation,
all the i