along and interrupted my work. This was a huge, big, burly man with a red beard and tattoo-marks all over his arms. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, spat twice on to the river-wall and said,
"Boy, where's the skipper?"
"The skipper!—Who do you mean?" I asked.
"The captain—Where's the captain of this craft?" he said, pointing to the Curlew.
"Oh, you mean the Doctor," said I. "Well, he isn't here at present."
At that moment the Doctor arrived with his arms full of note-books and butterfly-nets and glass cases and other natural history things. The big man went up to him, respectfully touching his cap.
"Good morning, Captain," said he. "I heard you was in need of hands for a voyage. My name's Ben Butcher, able seaman."
"I am very glad to know you," said the Doctor. "But I'm afraid I shan't be able to take on any more crew."
"Why, but Captain," said the able seaman, "you surely ain't going to face deep-sea weather with nothing more than this bit of a lad to help you—and with a cutter that big!"
The Doctor assured him that he was; but the man didn't go away. He hung around and argued. He told us he had known of many ships being sunk through "undermanning." He got out what he
