“There, there!” interposed ‘Bias.  “You didn’ know, and enough said!  I don’t want any man thrown out of employ.  ’Tis the system I’m out to spoil.”

“Skippers are a trouble-without-end in these days,” Mr Rogers muttered on, staring gloomily at the fire in the grate; “specially to a man crippled like me. . . .  You spend years sarchin’ for a fool, an’ you no sooner get the treasure, as you think—­one you can trust for a plain ord’nary fool in all weathers—­than he turns out a dam fool!”

On his way from the ship-chandler’s ’Bias ran against Mr Philp, who paused in the roadway and eyed him, chewing a piece of news and chuckling.

“That friend o’ yours is a wonnur!” preluded Mr Philp.

“Meanin’ Caius Hocken?”

“Who else? . . .  He’s goin’ a great pace in these days; but you won’t tell me he has flown out o’ that range?  Yes, ’tis Cap’n Hocken I mean; our Mayor, as you may call him; and there’s some as looks to see a silver cradle yet in his mayoralty.”

“What’s the latest?” ’Bias could not help putting the question, yet despised himself for it.

“He’s President of the Stevedores’ Regatta this year.”

“Get along with your news—­I heard it ten days ago.”

“So you did, for I told you myself.  But he’s giving a silver cup for the fourteen-foot race.”

“And I heard that, too.”

“Ay:  but what you don’t know, maybe, is that he’s been up to Rilla Farm tryin’ to persuade Mrs Bosenna to attend on the Committee-ship an’ hand the cup—­his cup—­to the winner.”

“She’s never consented?”

“Now I call that a master-stroke.  That’s the bold way to win a woman.  ‘Come along o’ me, my dear, an’ find yourself the lady patroness, life-size. . . .  Madam, you’ll excuse the liberty,—­but may I have the igstreme honour to request you to take my arm in the full view of all this here assembled rabble?’ So arm-in-arm it is, up the deck, and ‘Ladies an’ Gentlemen’—­meanin’ ‘Attention, pray, all you scum o’ the earth’—­’I’ll trouble you to observe strick silence while this lady, with whom you are all familiar—­’”

“Steady on!”

“Well, ‘familiar’ is too strong a word, as you say.  ’While this lady, with whom you’re all acquainted, presents the gallant winner with a cup, value Five Pounds, which you may have reckoned as an igstravagance when you heard I was the donor, ’but will now reckernise as a sprat to catch a whale—­that is, unless you’re even bigger fools than I take ye for.  ‘Twas with the greatest difficulty I indooced Mrs Bosenna—­’”

“She never would!” swore ’Bias.

“Well, as a matter o’ fact, she hasn’t.  But you’ll allow the trick was clever, and nothin’ more left for the woman, if she’d yielded, but to be carried straight off to the altar.  ’Twould have been expected of her, and no less.”

“What has she done?”