etter turn in, gentlemen. I'm going to turn off the light," said
the steward.

The yarn reminded the Sydney man of a dog he had, and he started some
dog lies.

"This dog of mine," he said, "knowed the way into the best
public-houses. If I came to a strange town and wanted a good drink, I'd
only have to say, 'Jack, I'm dry,' and he'd lead me all right. He always
knew the side entrances and private doors after hours, and I--"

But the yarn did not go very well--it fell flat in fact. Then the
commercial traveller was taken bad with an anecdote. "That's nothing,"
he said, "I had a black bag once that knew the way into public-houses."

"A what?"

"Yes. A black bag. A long black bag like that one I've got there in my
bunk. I was staying at a boarding-house in Sydney, and one of us used to
go out every night for a couple of bottles of beer, and we carried the
bottles in the bag; and when we got opposite the pub the front end of
the bag would begin to swing round towards the door. It was wonderful.
It was just as if there was a lump of steel in the end of the bag and a
magnet in the bar. We tried it with ever so many people, but it always
acted the same. We couldn't use that bag for any other purpose, for if
we carried it along the street it would make our wrists ache trying
to go into pubs. It twisted my wrist one time, and it ain't got right
since--I always feel the pain in dull weather. Well, one night we got
yarning and didn't notice how the time was going, and forgot to go for
the beer till it was nearly too late. We looked for the bag and couldn't
find it--we generally kept it under a side-table, but it wasn't there,
and before we were done looking, eleven o'clock went. We sat down round
the fire, feeling pretty thirsty, and were just thinking about turning
in when we heard a thump on the table behind us. We looked round, and
there was that bag with two full bottles of English ale in it.

"Then I remembered that I'd left a bob in the bottom of the bag, and---"

The steward turned off the electric light.

There were some hundreds of cases of oranges stacked on deck, and made
fast with matting and cordage to the bulwarks. That night was very dark,
and next morning there was a row. The captain said he'd "give any man
three months that he caught at those oranges."

"Wot, yer givin' us?" said a shearer. "We don't know anything about yer
bloomin' oranges.... I seen one of the saloon passengers moochin' round
for'ard l