“Now, I never was one as liked ‘avin’ words with a woman, so I pitched her a nice yarn about the cache I ‘ad at the back o’ my bunk, an’ ’ow I vallied ’er ring that ‘igh I stowed it there to keep it safe, an’ ’ow I’d slid down the anchor cable an’ swum ashore an’ left everything I ’ad behind me, I was that red-’ot for a sight of ’er.

“‘Ye didn’t,’ she says quite ratty, ‘ye gave it to one o’ them nasty yaller gals ye sing about.’

“‘I didn’t,’ I says; ‘Ye did,’ she says; ‘I didn’t,’ says I. An’ we went on like that for a bit until I says at last, ’If I can get aboard the old Pearl again,’ I says, ‘I’ll get the ring,’ I says, ‘an’ send it you in a letter,’ I says, ‘an’ then per’aps you’ll be sorry for the nasty way you’ve spoke to me,’ I says.

“‘Ho, yes,’ she says, sniffy-like, ‘per’aps I will, per’aps I won’t,’ an’ off she goes with ’er nose in the air.

“My next ship was for Frisco to load grain; and I made sure of droppin’ acrost the Pearl there, for she was bound the same way.  But I never did.  She was dismasted in the South Pacific on the outward passage, and had to put in to one of them Chile ports for repairs.  So she never got to Frisco until after we sailed for ‘ome.  An’ that was the way it went on.  She kep’ dodgin’ me all over the seven seas, an’ the nearest I got to ’er was when we give ’er a cheer off Sydney Heads, outward bound, when we was just pickin’ up our pilot.  The last I ’eard of ’er after that was from a feller that ’ad seen ‘er knockin’ round the South Pacific, sailin’ out o’ Carrizal or Antofagasta or one o’ them places.  I was in the Western Ocean mail-boat service at the time, and so o’ course she was off my run altogether.

“I was still in the same mail-boat when she give up the passenger business an’ went on the North Sea patrol.

“Well, one day we boarded a Chile barque in the ordinary course o’ duty, and I was one o’ those as went on board with the lootenant.  They generally takes me on them jobs, the reason bein’ that I know a deal o’ foreign languages.  I don’t believe there’s a country in the world where I couldn’t make myself understood, partic’lar when I’m wantin’ a drink bad.

“I wasn’t takin’ that much notice of this ’ere ship at the time (there was a bit of a nasty jobble on the water, for one thing, and we ’ad our work cut out gettin’ alongside), except that ’er name was the Maria de Somethink-or-other—­some Dago name.  But while we was waitin’ for the lootenant to finish ’is business with Old Monkey Brand, which was the black-faced Chileno captain she ’ad, it come over me all of a suddent.

“‘Strike me pink!’ I says, ’may my name be Dennis if I ’aven’t seen that there bit o’ fancy-work on the poop ladder rails before;’ which so I ’ad, for I done it myself in the doldrums, an’ a nice bit o’ work it was, too.

“You’ll ’ave guessed by now that she was none other than the Pearl of Asia; an’ no wonder I ’adn’t reckernised ’er, what with the mess she was in alow and aloft, an’ allyminian paint all over the poop railin’s as would ‘ave made our old blue-nose mate die o’ rage.