you one you've got."

Thomas shut his eyes at 'im and began to talk pitiful about 'is money and
the 'ard work 'e'd 'ad saving of it. And by-and-by 'e got worse, and
didn't reckernise us, but thought we was a pack o' greedy, drunken
sailormen. He thought Walter Jones was a shark, and told 'im so, and,
try all 'e could, Walter couldn't persuade 'im different.

He died the day arter. In the morning 'e was whimpering about 'is money
ag'in, and angry with Bill when 'e reminded 'im that 'e couldn't take it
with 'im, and 'e made Bill promise that 'e should be buried just as 'e
was. Bill tucked him up arter that, and when 'e felt a canvas belt tied
round the old man's waist 'e began to see wot 'e was driving at.

The weather was dirty that day and there was a bit o' sea running,
consequently all 'ands was on deck, and a boy about sixteen wot used to
'elp the steward down aft was lookin' arter Thomas. Me and Bill just run
down to give a look at the old man in time.

"I am going to take it with me, Bill," says the old man.

"That's right," says Bill.

"My mind's--easy now," says Thomas. "I gave it to Jimmy--to--to--throw
overboard for me."

"Wot?" says Bill, staring.

"That's right, Bill," says the boy. "He told me to. It was a little
packet o' banknotes. He gave me tuppence for doing it."