evitable superficial features of one's character for granted. This
made him easy to accept but difficult to understand. And so, when he
spoke of friendship and youth, the other men did not laugh. They were
silent--some with assent, some with doubt, and some, possibly, with
regret.

"I was second of one of their oldest boats for two years and Jack Evans
was mate. Jack and I became friends. I don't mean that the Mate and the
Second of that old ship went about with their arms wound round each
other's necks. We were, on the contrary, very often at each other's
throats, so to speak. Mates and second-engineers are professionally
antagonistic. We had terrific altercations over stores, for the company
patronized one of those old-fashioned ship chandlers who sent cabin,
deck, and engine stores all in one chaotic heap. Jack would get my
varnish and I would snaffle a couple of bolts of his canvas. But that
would all blow away by tea time, when we'd go ashore and spend the
evening together. Mind you, we were neither of us very good young men.
We ... well, we had some good times and some bad ones. We were shifted
together into another ship. Then Jack, who'd been nine solid years mate
in the company and was getting so angry about it that the port-captain
used to avoid him, Jack got a command. I shall never forget it. We were
lying as peaceably as you please in the top corner of the old Queens
Dock, Glasgow. It was Saturday night and all was snug for a quiet
week-end. Jack and I were in his room under the bridge having a nip,
when a telegraph-boy came clattering down the brass-edged staircase.
Jack opened the wire, read it, and then gave me a thump on the back that
nearly broke it. He was a stout, florid-faced, peppery little Welshman.
What I liked about him was his crystal-clear character. What he thought
came out like a shell out of a gun--with an explosion. 'The old thief's
given me a ship at last!' he roared. And he had to pack and get away
that night to Bristol. I went for a cab while he got his dunnage
together. And I remember now, waiting on the platform at the Union
Station for the train to move, with Jack in a corner of the compartment
drunk as a lord, and snoring.

"It was in London I met him again. We had had a collision and I was one
of the witnesses called by the company to swear our ship was innocent.
She wasn't: she wasn't: she did everything she shouldn't have done--but
no matter. We all stayed at a little hotel in th