massive bit of timber, with ropes faintly traced against the sky, the rather loosely furled jib flapping ragged edges in the gusts of wind.  Suddenly, as I stared upward, I became aware that two men were working their way out along the foot-ropes, and, as they reached a point almost directly over my head, became busily engaged in tightening the gaskets to better secure the loosening sail.  The foot of one slipped, and he hung dangling, giving vent to a stiff English oath before he succeeded in hauling himself back to safety, The other indulged in a chuckling laugh, yet was careful not to speak loudly.

“Had one drink too many, Tom?” he asked.  “That will pay yer fer finishin’ the bottle, an’ never givin’ me another sup.”

The other growled, evidently not in any too good humor after his mishap.

“You, hell!  Yer bed the fu’st ov it.  Thar’s no sorter luck yer don’t git yer fair share of, Bill Haines—­trust yer fer thet.  What I ain’t got straight yet, is whar thet stuff cum from so easy.  Thet wus the real thing.”

Haines laughed again, working carelessly.  As the men advanced along the spar I could distinguish their forms more clearly.

“That wus part o’ the luck, Tom,” he acknowledged, his accent that of a cockney.  “Did yer git eyes on thet new feller Manuel Estevan brought back with him in the boat?”

“The one you and Jose carried aboard?”

“He’s the lad.  Thar wa’n’t nuthin’ the matter with the cove, ’cept he wus dead drunk, an’ he hed a bottle o’ rum stowed away in every pocket.  But Manuel, he never knew thet.  It wus just ’bout dark when he cum staggerin’ down ter the boat.  We wus waitin’ on the beach fer Estevan, an’ three fellers he hed taken along with him inter town, ter cum back—­the nigger, Jose, an’ me—­when this yere chap hove ‘longside.  He never hailed us, ner nuthin’; just clim over inter the boat, an’ lay down.  ‘Whar ye aimin’ ter go, friend?’ ses I, but by then the cove wus dead asleep.  I shook him, an’ kicked him, but it wa’n’t no use; so we just left him lie thar fer Manuel ter say whut wus ter be done with him.  Only Jose he went thru his pockets, an’ found three bottles o’ rum.  We took a few drinks, an’ hid whut wus left in the boat locker.”

“So that’s how yer got it!  Who wus the party?”

“Thet’s mor’n I’ll ever tell yer.  I never got no sight o’ him, ’cept in the dark.  ‘Bout all I know is he wus white, an’ likely a sailor, judgin’ frum the feel o’ his hands.  Maybe he thought that wus his boat he’d stumbled inter—­thar wus quite a few ’long the beach.  Enyhow, when Manuel got back, he just took a look at him in the dark, an’ then told us to haul the lad forrard out o’ the way, an’ fetch him along.  So we pulled out with the feller cuddled up in the bow.  He was drunk all right.”

“I never seed nuthin’ more of him after he was hauled aboard,” commented Tom, as the other ceased speaking.  “Whut become o’ the lad?”