voyage, except for heroic youth with its gift of eternal life. Simple
ignorance, as usual, made me heroic. I went on deck, and found the
steward sitting on a box, with a bucket of sprats before him, tearing off
their heads, and then throwing the bodies contemptuously into another
bucket. The ends of his fingers and thumbs were pink and bright, and
were separated from the remainder of his dark hands by margins of
glittering scales. He compared to me, as he beheaded the fish, the girls
of Hull and London. But what I knew of the girls of but one city was so
meagre in comparison that I could only listen to his particulars in
silent surprise. It was notable that a man like that, who pulled the
heads and guts of fish like that, should have acquired a knowledge so
peculiar, so personal, of the girls of two cities. While considering
whether what at first looked like the mystery of this problem might not
be in reality its clue, I became aware of another listener. Its lean and
dismal length was disproportionate to that small ship. It had on but
dungarees and a singlet, and the singlet, because of the length of the
figure, was concave at the stomach, where, having nothing to rest upon,
it was corrugated through the weight of a head made brooding by a heavy
black beard. Hairy wrists were thrust deeply into the pockets to hold up
the trousers. The dome of its head was as bald and polished as yellow
metal. The steward introduced me to the Chief Engineer. "Yon's a dirty
steward," returned the Chief simply.

"Clean enough for this ship," said the Steward.

"Aye," sighed the engineer, "aye!"

"Have you been to the Queen's Hall lately?" asked the Chief of me. "I
should like to hear some Beethoven or Mozart tonight. Aye, but we're
awa'. It'll be yon sprats." He sighed his affirmative again in