“‘Certingly not,’ I ses.  ’But you must give me ’is name and address, and, arter the Blue Shark—­that’s the name of your ship—­is clear of the land, I’ll send ’im a letter with no name to it, saying where you ave gorn.’

“He didn’t seem to like it at fust, and said ’e would write ’imself, but arter I ’ad pointed out that ’e might forget and that I was responsible, ’e gave way and told me that ’is father was named Mr. Watson, and he kept a big draper’s shop in the Commercial Road.

“We talked a bit arter that, just to stop ’is suspicions, and then I told ’im to stay where ’e was on the floor, out of sight of the window, while I went to see my friend the captain.

“I stood outside for a moment trying to make up my mind wot to do.  O’course, I ’ad no business, strictly speaking, to leave the wharf, but, on the other ’and, there was a father’s ’art to relieve.  I edged along bit by bit while I was thinking, and then, arter looking back once or twice to make sure that the boy wasn’t watching me, I set off for the Commercial Road as hard as I could go.

“I’m not so young as I was.  It was a warm evening, and I ’adn’t got even a bus fare on me.  I ’ad to walk all the way, and, by the time I got there, I was ’arf melted.  It was a tidy-sized shop, with three or four nice-looking gals behind the counter, and things like babies’ high chairs for the customers to sit onlong in the leg and ridikerlously small in the seat.  I went up to one of the gals and told Per I wanted to see Mr. Watson.

“‘On private business,’ I ses.  ‘Very important.’

“She looked at me for a moment, and then she went away and fetched a tall, bald-headed man with grey side-whiskers and a large nose.

“’Wot d’you want?” he ses, coming up to me.

I want a word with you in private,’ I ses.

“‘This is private enough for me,’ he ses.  ’Say wot you ’ave to say, and be quick about it.’

“I drawed myself up a bit and looked at him.  ’P’r’aps you ain’t missed ‘im yet,’ I ses.

“’Missed ‘im?’ he ses, with a growl.  ‘Missed who?’

“‘Your-son.  Your blue-eyed son,’ I ses, looking ’im straight in the eye.

“‘Look here!’ he ses, spluttering.  ’You be off.  ’Ow dare you come here with your games?  Wot d’ye mean by it?’

“‘I mean,’ I ses, getting a bit out o’ temper, ’that your boy has run away to go to sea, and I’ve come to take you to ‘im.’

“He seemed so upset that I thought ’e was going to ’ave a fit at fust, and it seemed only natural, too.  Then I see that the best-looking girl and another was having a fit, although trying ’ard not to.

“‘If you don’t get out o’ my shop,’ he ses at last, ’I’ll ’ave you locked up.’

“‘Very good!’ I ses, in a quiet way.  ’Very good; but, mark my words, if he’s drownded you’ll never forgive yourself as long as you live for letting your temper get the better of you—­you’ll never know a good night’s rest agin.  Besides, wot about ‘is mother?’