All of the chaps in Swede Olson’s house were hard cases.  They boasted of their hardness.  But their hardness was the typical tough’s hardness, nine parts bravado, a savagery not difficult to subdue with an oak belaying pin in the fist of a bucko mate.  But the hardness of this big, scar-faced man was of a different sort.  You sensed, immediately you looked at him, that he possessed a steely armor of indifference that penetrated to his very heart.  He was a real hard case, a proper nut, a fellow who simply did not care what happened.  It was nothing he said or did, but his demeanor declared plainly he was utterly reckless of events or consequences.  It was amusing to observe how circumspectly the bullies of the house walked while in his neighborhood.

But I found him to be a man of silent and lonesome habit, and temperate.  He discouraged my friendly advance with a cold indifference, and my idea of chumming with him during my pay-day “bust” soon went glimmering.  Yet I admired him mightily from the moment I first clapped eyes upon him, and endeavored to imitate his carriage of utter recklessness in my own strutting.

CHAPTER III

The talk in the Swede’s house was all of drink and women and ships.  I was too young and clean to find much enjoyment in too much of the first two; much liquor made me sick, and I did not find the painted Jezebels of sailor-town attractive.  But ships were my life, and I lent a ready ear to the gossip about them.  To tell the truth, I didn’t enjoy the Knitting Swede’s place very much.  I did so want to be a hard case, and I guess I was a pretty hard case, but I didn’t like the other hard cases.  Youth likes companionship, but I didn’t want to chum with that gang, willing though most of them were that I permit them to help me spend my money.  I hadn’t been ashore twenty-four hours before I found myself wishing for a clean breeze and blue water.

Shipping was brisk in the port, and I discovered I would have no trouble in picking my ship when my money was gone.  The Enterprise was loading for Boston; the Glory of the Seas would sail within the fortnight for the United Kingdom; there were a half-dozen other smart ships wishing to be manned by smart lads.  I had nothing to worry about.  I could blow my pay-day as quickly as I liked; there was no danger of my being stranded “on the beach.”

So I spent my money, as violently as possible.  I made a noise in the Swede’s house, and was proud of myself.  My first A.B.’s spree!

On the third evening of my “bust,” my mettle was tested.  There was a woman in the Swede’s house, a slim wisp of a little Jewess, with the sweet face of a Madonna and the eyes of a wanton.  Well—­she smiled on me.  She had good reason to; was I not making my gold pieces dance a merry tune?  Was I not fair game for any huntress?