He slipped a hand through the cage-door, and caressed him, scratching
his head.

"If you please, sir," said I, "it's Captain Coffin I'm looking for."

"Drunk again!" screamed the bird. "Damn my giblets, drunk again!"

"He don't like Coffin, and that's a fact," said the barber.

"He don't appear to, sir," I agreed.

"You'll find the old fellow down the yard. That is, if you really
want him." The barber eyed me doubtfully. "He's sober enough, just
now; been swearin off liquor for a week. I dare say you know his
temper's uncertain at such times."

I did not know it, but was too far committed to retreat.

"Well, you'll find him down the yard--green door to the right, with
the brass knocker. He's out at the back, hammering at his ship, but
he'll hear you fast enough: he's wonderful quick of hearing."

A man, even though he possessed a solid brass knocker, had need to be
quick of hearing in that alley. Without, street-hawkers were bawling
and carts rattling on the cobbled thoroughfare; from the entrance the
parrot vociferated after me as I went down the passage beneath an
open window whence an invisible violin repeated the opening phrase of
"Come, cheer up, my lads!" plaintively and persistently; while from
the far end, somewhere between it and the harbour side, an irregular