one might think.

3

One evening, in a water-front saloon, Captain Sproule and another man--a
fellow who was a shipper of freight, as I remember--spent an hour or so
with two women whose bad language and painted faces would have told
their story to any older person; but to me they were just acquaintances
of the captain, and that was all. After a while the four left the saloon
together, and I followed, as I followed the captain everywhere.

"That young one had better be sent to bed," said the captain's friend,
pointing to me.

"Better go back to the boat, Jake," said the captain, laughing in a
tipsy sort of way.

"I don't know where it is," said I; "it's been towed off somewhere."

"That's so," said the captain, "I've got to hunt it up myself--or stay
all night in a tavern. Wal, come along. I'll be going home early."

The other man gave a sort of sarcastic laugh. "Bring up your boys as you
like, Cap'n," said he. "He'll come to it anyhow in a year or so by
himself, I guess."

"I'm going home early," said the captain.

"Course you be," said the woman, seizing the captain's arm. "Come on,
Bubby!"