“Get me some clothes,” pleaded Tommy.

“I wouldn’t get you clothes, no, not for fifty pun,” said the man severely.  “Wot d’yer mean wanting to spoil people’s pleasure in that way?  Come on, come and tell the cap’n what you’ve got for ’im, I want to ’ear what he ses.  He’s been swearing ’ard since ten o’clock this morning, but he ought to say something special over this.”

He led the way up the bare wooden stairs, followed by the harassed boy, and entered a small dirty room at the top, in the centre of which the master of the Sarah Jane sat to deny visitors, in a pair of socks and last week’s paper.

“Here’s a young gent come to bring you some clothes, cap’n,” said the man, taking the sack from the boy.

“Why didn’t you come before?” growled the captain, who was reading the advertisements.

The man put his hand in the sack, and pulled out the clothes.  “What do you think of ’em?” he asked expectantly.

The captain strove vainly to tell him, but his tongue mercifully forsook its office, and dried between his lips.  His brain rang with sentences of scorching iniquity, but they got no further.

“Well, say thank you, if you can’t say nothing else,” suggested his tormentor hopefully.

“I couldn’t bring nothing else,” said Tommy hurriedly; “all the things was locked up.  I tried to swop ’em and nearly got locked up for it.  Put these on and hurry up.”

The captain moistened his lips with his tongue.

“The mate’ll get off directly she floats,” continued Tommy.  “Put these on and spoil his little game.  It’s raining a little now.  Nobody’ll see you, and as soon as you git aboard you can borrow some of the men’s clothes.”

“That’s the ticket, cap’n,” said the man.  “Lord lumme, you’ll ’ave everybody falling in love with you.”

“Hurry up,” said Tommy, dancing with impatience.  “Hurry up.”

The skipper, dazed and wild-eyed, stood still while his two assistants hastily dressed him, bickering somewhat about details as they did so.

“He ought to be tight-laced, I tell you,” said the man.

“He can’t be tight-laced without stays,” said Tommy scornfully.  “You ought to know that.”

“Ho, can’t he,” said the other, discomfited.  “You know too much for a young-un.  Well, put a bit o’ line round ’im then.”

“We can’t wait for a line,” said Tommy, who was standing on tip-toe to tie the skipper’s bonnet on.  “Now tie the scarf over his chin to hide his beard, and put this veil on.  It’s a good job he ain’t got a moustache.”

The other complied, and then fell back a pace or two to gaze at his handiwork.  “Strewth, though I sees it as shouldn’t, you look a treat!” he remarked complacently.  “Now, young-un, take ’old of his arm.  Go up the back streets, and if you see anybody looking at you, call ’im Mar.”

The two set off, after the man, who was a born realist, had tried to snatch a kiss from the skipper on the threshold.  Fortunately for the success of the venture, it was pelting with rain, and, though a few people gazed curiously at the couple as they went hastily along, they were unmolested, and gained the wharf in safety, arriving just in time to see the schooner shoving off from the side.