gigantic German in the second mate's watch, ruled the forecastle by sheer radiation of goodwill.
Surrounding Otto on the hatch were seamen of various nationalities: the once beery hobo, who was Irish-Canadian; a dour young Cornishman known as "Dismal Jimmy"; a Scot; a Frisian who spoke a weird dialect; and a decrepit "hard case" from Cardiff who, though past the age of mating, beguiled the forecastle with tales of his amative exploits and the exploits of an amazing creature in Sydney known as Dirty Dora, the Sailors' friend.
That such an assortment could chat unconstrainedly, drinking like all the beasts of the jungle at a common pool which slaked their thirst for yarns, was a source of wonderment to Paul. Each had a grudge of some sort, yet when they were socially foregathered the grudges were sheathed, and differences of opinion led to no manifestation more hostile than a satiric grin, a humorous broadside, or an incredulous hitching up of trousers.
"M'n dee got to be shipmates togedder," was the philosophic carpenter's explanation to Paul. "Don't do to go monkey-shinin' when dee're all in de same boat." But Chips, a teetotaller, was inclined to saddle Rum with the responsibility for the world's disasters. "When dee get ashore and get drunk," he moralized, "dee suddenly remember dee're a different nationality as de oders, and dee start breakin' each oder's heads. And next day de ol' man got to go to de police court to find 'em. Men is more stoopid as animals."
This evening there was certainly no hint of discord. Otto had gone to fetch an accordion, and as if by magic, mouth-organs and concertinas made their appearance. Fritz and Chips sang German words to the tunes. Dismal Jimmy played a Jew's harp. Paul performed on a comb covered with tissue-paper, interrupting the melody now and again to brush his tickled lips. And those who
