ly, when
the third mate having collected a good attendance crept up behind him
as quiet as a cat and jerked the line with the hungry violence of a
monster, contriving also to make his retreat out of sight before the aged
angler had quite decided that he was _not_ going to catch a huge bass.
This heartless deception was very popular. Something was necessary to
while away the evening despite its bright array of dewy-lighted clouds,
which suited the coolness of the air. The grumble of the machinery gave
place to "Cock Robin" and other classic opportunities for bawling; and
cards were brought out.

The next day, cold enough for every one, and proving that the English
climate is not alone in its uncertain habits, went on quietly. The party
who brought the sacks of grain to the door of the railway truck, the
man who there at singular speed cut away the string from the mouths of
the sacks, the lads who swept all loose grain from the truck and its
neighbourhood--all were working to load us as if their lives depended on
it. Actually, no doubt, this was the case. The _Bonadventure_ ceased to
tower aloft out of the water.

Bicker, Mead and the passenger-purser passed the evening in the village.
We went in and out of shops in a casual manner. There was one whose
contents were sufficiently varied for the sailors' fancy. On one wall
hung a large collection of crudely cured pelts, the fur of wild cats,
foxes, and other animals. From the ceiling hung, unpitied, many canaries
imprisoned in yellow cages; under the counters were displayed baskets made
of turtle shells, lined with pink sateen. Cigarettes of all nationalities,
boot polishes of uncertain price and utility, and in the window a regiment
of notes and coins advertising the money-changer's department, caught
my eye. There were even old books. As we were leaving two sailors
entered bearing a cage wrapped in paper. They accosted the fat and greasy
shopkeeper abruptly.

"Canary eh? died 'smornin' eh?"

(This "eh?" was the mainstay of our Anglo-Argentine intercourse.)

"Ah, Ah, no give monjay!"

"Yes, mucho plenty monjay."

The question in short was, what about giving us our money back?--but we
could not stop long enough to see the result. Further along, children's
sandals were ranged in a window. Mead thought that he would shine in a
pair like them; but the shopkeeper thought his inquiry for sandals size 9
a good joke.

At this stage, when Mead emerged, I was very sorry to