berthed, and the men working properly, but really to test the generosity of the captains, who seldom let him go without a “douceur,” which was sometimes satisfactory.  He was accustomed, when asked to have refreshment, to request that his two men should have a nip also.  One morning he visited a favourite captain who had arranged with his mate to act liberally towards the men.  His stay in the cabin was prolonged, and when he came on deck and called for the boat, his devoted henchmen did not come forth.  He looked over the quarter-deck, and was thrown into frenzy by seeing them both lying speechless, their bodies in the bottom, and their legs sticking up on the seats of the boat.  He got into her, kicked the two occupants freely without producing from them any appreciable symptoms of life, and then finally rowed himself back to the “Bran” Wharf.  The two culprits were compulsory teetotalers after that.

Their master went on accumulating roubles, which, under Russian law, Tom could not invest in his own name, and perhaps he had personal reasons for secrecy.  He did not allow the amount of his wealth to be known to gentlemen who might have relieved him of the anxiety of watching over it.  But, alas! there came a period of great trial to Tom.  That portion of the “Bran” Wharf where the roubles were concealed took fire.  The occupants had to fly for their lives, and soon the whole fabric was burnt to the water’s edge.  Another pontoon was erected in its place, and Tom put in command; but before he had time to replace the fortune he had lost, he was superseded by a naval officer, and his roubles were taken from him.  I believe his dismissal was brought about by one of the countrymen to whom he had such a strong aversion making a complaint to the Governor about his partiality to Englishmen.  Great sympathy was secretly extended to poor Tom by his English friends, but the loss of his position and his wealth broke his heart, and he only survived the blow for a few weeks.

In addition to controlling the berthing of vessels, and keeping the harbour free from confusion, it was Tom’s duty to see that no fires or lights were allowed either by day or night, and, as these rigid rules were frequently broken, his “hush money” very largely contributed to his already affluent income.  Nor did his removal affect the acquisitiveness of his successor, who loyally followed in his footsteps.  As soon as a sailing-vessel arrived in the Roads, the galley fire had to be put out before she was allowed to come into the Mole.  All cooking was done ashore at a cookhouse that was loathsomely dirty.  A heavy charge was made for the use of the place, and also for the hire of the cook’s lurky, a flat-bottomed kind of boat constructed of rough planks.  These boats were invariably so leaky that on the passage to and from the shore they became half-foil of water, and the food was frequently spoiled in consequence.  But, even if all went right, the crews often had to