'ad about enough, and then turn round on 'em. Nobody ever got the better
o' me except my wife, and that was only before we was married. Two
nights arterwards she found a fish-hook in my trouser-pocket, and arter
that I could ha' left untold gold there--if I'd ha' had it. It spoilt
wot some people call the honey-moon, but it paid in the long run.

One o' the worst things a man can do is to take up artfulness all of a
sudden. I never knew it to answer yet, and I can tell you of a case
that'll prove my words true.

It's some years ago now, and the chap it 'appened to was a young man, a
shipmate o' mine, named Charlie Tagg. Very steady young chap he was, too
steady for most of 'em. That's 'ow it was me and 'im got to be such
pals.

He'd been saving up for years to get married, and all the advice we could
give 'im didn't 'ave any effect. He saved up nearly every penny of 'is
money and gave it to his gal to keep for 'im, and the time I'm speaking
of she'd got seventy-two pounds of 'is and seventeen-and-six of 'er own
to set up house-keeping with.

Then a thing happened that I've known to 'appen to sailormen afore. At
Sydney 'e got silly on another gal, and started walking out with her, and
afore he knew wot he was about he'd promised to marry 'er too.

Sydney and London being a long way from each other was in 'is favour, but
the thing that troubled 'im was 'ow to get that seventy-two pounds out of
Emma Cook, 'is London gal, so as he could marry the other with it. It
worried 'im all the way home, and by the time we got into the London
river 'is head was all in a maze with it. Emma Cook 'ad got it all saved