Sailormen 'ave their faults, said the night watchman, frankly. I'm not
denying of it. I used to 'ave myself when I was at sea, but being close
with their money is a fault as can seldom be brought ag'in 'em.

I saved some money once--two golden sovereigns, owing to a 'ole in my
pocket. Before I got another ship I slept two nights on a doorstep and
'ad nothing to eat, and I found them two sovereigns in the lining o' my
coat when I was over two thousand miles away from the nearest pub.

I on'y knew one miser all the years I was at sea. Thomas Geary 'is name
was, and we was shipmates aboard the barque _Grenada,_ homeward bound from
Sydney to London.

Thomas was a man that was getting into years; sixty, I think 'e was, and
old enough to know better. 'E'd been saving 'ard for over forty years,
and as near as we could make out 'e was worth a matter o' six 'undered
pounds. He used to be fond o' talking about it, and letting us know how
much better off 'e was than any of the rest of us.

We was about a month out from Sydney when old Thomas took sick. Bill
Hicks said that it was owing to a ha'penny he couldn't account for; but
Walter Jones, whose family was always ill, and thought 'e knew a lot
about it, said that 'e knew wot it was, but 'e couldn't remember the name
of it, and that when we got to London and Thomas saw a doctor, we should
see as 'ow 'e was right.

Whatever it was the old man got worse and worse. The skipper came down
and gave 'im some physic and looked at 'is tongue, and then 'e looked at
our tongues to see wot the difference was. Then 'e left the cook in
charge of 'im and went off.