d ashore with
a number of fish, strung together through the gills. Above the noise of
the traffic on the quay his voice rose, piercing. "I presenta. Flounder,
all aliva. I give ze fish. You giva"--with suddenness he comically
lowered his voice--"tobacco, rumma--what you like." He lay the gift of
flounders on the wooden stage. "Where I get him? I catcha him. Where you
get ze tobacco, rumma? You catcha him. Heh?"

Rock Cod, having made fast the boat, was now standing beside his mate.

A sailor picked up the flounders, and, turning back the gills of one of
them, said, "Fresh, eh, Macaroni?"

The bulky Italian sidled up to the man. "Whata I tell you? Where I
catcha him? In ze sea. Where you catcha ze tobacco? In ze sea. What you
say? Heh?" He gave the sailor a dig in the ribs.

By way of answer he received a push. His foot slipped on the wet boards
of the stage, and into the water he fell, amid shouts of laughter.

As buoyant as a cork, he soon came to the surface, and, scrambling upon
the stage, he seized a barracouta from the boat, and rushed at his mate.
"You laugha at me, Rocka Codda? I teacha you laugh." Taking the big
fish by the tail, he belaboured his partner in business with the scaly
carcase, till the long spines of the fish's back caught in the fleshy
part of his victim's neck. But Rock Cod's screams only drew callous
comment from his persecutor. "You laugha at your mate? I teacha you.
Rocka Codda, I teacha you respecta Macaroni. Laugha now!"

With a sudden jerk Rock Cod obtained his freedom, though not without
additional agony. He faced his partner, with revenge in his wild eyes
and curses on his tongue. But just at this moment, a stoutly-built,
red-faced sailor pushed his way through the Pilot's crew, and, snatching
the barracouta from the Italian, he thrust himself between the
combatants.

"Of all the mad-headed Dagoes that God A'mighty sent to curse this earth
you, Macaroni, are the maddest. Why, man, folks can hear your yelling
half the length of the quay."

"Looka!" cried the Italian. "Who are you? Why you come 'ere? Rocka Codda
and Macaroni fighta, but ze ginger-headed son of a cooka mus' interfere.
Jesu Christo! I teacha you too. I got ze barracouta lef'."

He turned to seize another fish from the bottom of the boat, but the
sight of two men fighting on the slip with barracoutas for weapons might
detract too much from the dignity of the Pilot's crew. The Italian was
seized, and forcibly prevente