And he was not disappointed.  Gentleman Jan, without taking his pipe out of his mouth, dropped his huge elbows on the counter, and his black-fringed chin on his fists; took a look round the shop, as if to find something which would suit him; and then—­

“I say, Doctor, gi’s some tackleum.”

“Some diachylum plaster, Mr. Beer?” says Heale, meekly.  “What for, then?”

“To tackle my shins.  I barked ’em cruel against King Arthur’s nose last night.  Hard in the bone he is;—­wish I was as hard.”

“How much diachylum will you want, then, Mr. Beer?”

“Well, I don’t know.  Let’s see!” and Jan pulls up his blue trousers, and pulls down his grey rig and furrows, and considers his broad and shaggy shins.

“Matter of four pennies broad:  two to each leg;” and then replaces his elbows, and smokes on.

“I say, Doctor, that ’ere curate come out well last night.  I shall go to church next Sunday.”

“What,” asks the satellite, “after you upset he that fashion yesterday?”

“I don’t care what you thinks;” says Jan, who, of course, bullies his jackal, like most lions:  “but I goes to church.  He’s a good ’un, say I,—­little and good, like a Welshman’s cow; and clapped me on the back when we’d got the man and the maid safe, and says,—­’Well done our side, old fellow!’ and stands something hot all round, what’s more, in at the Mariner’s Rest.—­I say, Doctor, where’s he as we hauled ashore?  I’ll go up and see ’un.”

“Not now, then, Mr. Beer; not now, then.  He’s sleeping, indeed he is, like any child.”

“So much the better.  We wain’t be bothered with his hollering.  But go up I will.  Do ye let me now; I’ll be as still as a maid.”

And Jan kicked off his shoes, and marched on tip-toe through the shop, while Dr. Heale, moaning professional ejaculations, showed him the way.

The shipwrecked man was sleeping sweetly; and little was to be seen of his face, so covered was it with dark tangled curls and thick beard.

“Ah! a ’Stralian digger, by the beard of him, and his red jersey,” whispered Jan, as he bent tenderly over the poor fellow, and put his head on one side to listen to his breathing.  “Beautiful he sleeps, to be sure!” said Jan:  “and a tidy-looking chap, too.  ’Tis a pity to wake ’un, poor wratch; and he, perhaps, with a sweetheart aboard, and drownded; or else all his kit lost.—­Let ’un sleep so long as he can:  he’ll find all out soon enough, God help him!”

And big Jan stole down the stairs gently and reverently, like a true sailor; and took his diachylum, and went off to plaster his shins.

About ten minutes afterwards, Heale was made aware that his guest was awake, “by sundry grunts and ejaculations, which ended in a series of long and doleful whistles, and then broke out into a song.  So he went up, and found the stranger sitting upright in bed, combing his curls with his fingers, and chaunting unto himself a cheerful ditty.