agonist with an unlucky blow; no human power seemed capable of
restraining him, and of superhuman powers he only knew one thing--he
knew that you use certain words for cursing purposes.

Over the grey desolation of that cruel North Sea no humanising agency
ever travelled to soften Jim Billings and his like; but there were many
agencies at work to convert the men into brutes.

On calm days there came sinister vessels that sneaked furtively among
the fleet. A little black flag flew from the foretopmast stay of these
ugly visitors, and that was a sign that tobacco and spirits were on sale
aboard. The smacksmen went for tobacco, which is a necessity of life to
them; but the clever Dutchmen soon contrived to introduce other wares.
Vile aniseed brandy--liquid fire--was sold cheap, and many a man who
began the day cool and sober ended it as a raving madman. Mr. Coper, the
Dutch trader, did not care a rush for ready money; ropes, nets, sails
were quite as much in his line, and a continual temptation was held out
to men who wanted to rob their owners. Jim Billings used to get drunk as
often as possible, and he himself told me of one ghastly expedient to
which he was reduced when he and his shipmates were parched and craving
for more poison. A dead man came past their vessel; they lowered the
boat, and proceeded to haul the clothes off the corpse. The putrid flesh
came away with the garments, but the drunkards never heeded. They
scrubbed the clothes, dried them in the rigging, and coped them away for
brandy.

Mr. Coper had other attractions for young and lusty fishermen. There are
certain hounds in France, Holland, and even in our own virtuous
country, who pick up a living by selling beastly pictures. In the North
Sea fleets there are 12,000 powerful fellows who are practically
condemned to celibacy, and the human apes who sold the bawdy pictures
drove a rare trade among the swarming vessels.

Jim Billings was a capital customer to the Copers, for his animalism ran
riot, and he was more like a tremendous automaton than like a man.

So this mighty creature lived his life, drinking, fighting, toiling,
blaspheming, and dwelling in rank darkness. He often spoke of "Gord,"
and his burly childishness tickled me infinitely. I liked Jim; he was
such a Man when one compared him with our sharps and noodles; but I
never expected to see him fairly distance me in the race towards
respectability. I am still a Loafer; Jim is a most estimabl