Part 38 (1/2)

”'Arf a suvrin',” repeated the boy with nervous rapidity; ”and thank you very much, Sam, for your generosity. If everybody was like you we should all be the better for it. The world 'ud be a different place to live in,” concluded the youthful philosopher.

Mr. Dodd's face under these fulsome praises was a study in conflicting emotions. ”Well, don't waste it,” he said at length, and hastily gathering up the remainder stowed it in the bag.

”What are you going to do with it all, Sam?” inquired Harry.

”I ain't made up my mind yet,” said Mr. Dodds deliberately. ”I 'ave thought of 'ouse property.”

”I don't mean that,” said the other. ”I mean wot are you going to do with it now, to take care of it?”

”Why, keep it in my pocket,” said Sam, staring.

”Well, if I was you,” said Harry impressively, ”I should ask the skipper to take care of it for me. You know wot you are when you're a bit on, Sam.”

”Wot d'yer mean?” demanded Mr. Dodds hotly.

”I mean,” said Harry hastily, ”that you've got sich a generous nature that when you've 'ad a gla.s.s or two you're just as likely as not to give it away to somebody.”

”I know what I'm about,” said Mr. Dodds with conviction. ”I'm not goin'

to get on while I've got this about me. I'm just goin' round to the 'Bull's Head,' but I sha'n't drink anything to speak of myself. Anybody that likes to come t'ave anything at my expense is welcome.”

A flattering murmur, which was music to Mr. Dodds' ear, arose from his s.h.i.+pmates as they went on deck and hauled the boat alongside. The boy was first in her, and pulling out his pockethandkerchief ostentatiously wiped a seat for Mr. Dodds.

”Understand,” said that gentleman, with whom the affair of the half-sovereign still rankled, ”_your_ drink is shandygaff.”

They returned to the brig at eleven o'clock, Mr. Dodds slumbering peacefully in the stern of the boat, propped up on either side by Steve and the boy.

His sleep was so profound that he declined to be aroused, and was hoisted over the side with infinite difficulty and no little risk by his s.h.i.+pmates.

”Look at 'im,” said Harry, as they lowered him down the forecastle.

”What 'ud ha' become of 'im if we hadn't been with 'im? Where would 'is money ha' been?”

”He'll lose it as sure as eggs is heggs,” said Steve, regarding him intently, ”Bear a hand to lift 'im in his bunk, Harry.”

Harry complied, their task being rendered somewhat difficult by a slight return of consciousness in Mr. Dodds' lower limbs, which, spreading themselves out fanwise, defied all attempts to pack them in the bunk.

”Let 'em hang out then,” said Harry savagely, wiping a little mud from his face. ”Fancy _that_ coming in for a fortin.”

”'E won't 'ave it long,” said the cook, shaking his head.

”Wot 'e wants is a shock,” said Harry. ”'Ow'd it be when he wakes up to tell 'im he's lost all 'is money?”

”Wot's the good o' telling 'im,” demanded the cook, ”when 'e's got it in his pocket?”

”Well, let's take it out,” said Pilchard. ”I'll hide it under my piller, and let him think he's 'ad his pocket picked.”

”I won't 'ave nothing to do with it,” said Steve peremptorily. ”I don't believe in sich games.”

”Wot do you think, cook?” inquired Harry.

”I don't see no 'arm in it,” said the cook slowly, ”the fright might do 'im good, p'raps.”