Gordon Young

“ The glasses were filled, and Buck looked right and left to see that all were set; then lifting his own, he said to Webster:
“Here's to you, whoever the —— you are. You're a good man. I never met a better. Me, I'm Buck Davis, and this is my brother Frank, mates on the Clarendon. A rip-roarin' hooker she is for farmers and soldiers, but sailors—why, blast your old heart, a man like you can spit on her deck!” ”

“ But Buck drew back with a sullen glow in his one good eye.
“Count me out,” he said, crouching his head on his short neck and giving George a glare that weakened his knees. “I buy my own and drink with good men, not with a bunch of potbellied barflies like you and this crowd of bums that's grinned to see better men than they ever were take a beating!”
“Here, what's this—what's this!” shouted the proprietor of the Rest Easy, who had seen the size of the slummers' rolls and knew that they were in a mood for spending. “Where do you get that stuff?” ”

“ Some of them held beer mugs from which they took an occasional sip, but with eyes steady over the rim so as to miss nothing.
The proprietor of the Rest Easy, a hard man, as he had to be in order not to be once in a while kicked out of his joint by some peevish stevedore, but a bit bloated from too much sampling of his own goods, had tucked his white apron into the waist band of his trousers and, bungstarter in hand to see fair play, stood in the front rank of the onlookers, twisting a drooping mustache with his free hand. Both fighters were strangers, so he played no favorite ”

“ SOMEWHERE near midnight the three sailors were back in the Rest Easy Saloon, at the table nearest the rear door, through which an occasional patron who knew his way in the alley entered.
A lot of night owls and barflies were gathered up at the bar around a party of slummers who thought they were seeing life because they drank with soaks and spongers that had been accompanying them from waterfront saloon to saloon, showing them about. Some of them already called the fattest and loudest of these spenders by his first name, which was George, and patted him on the back ”

“ Said the Duke:
“I'm really ¦ getting interested in this Clarendon. Everybody hates her so. Besides, I didn't like that fellow off of her. He smelt suspiciously of the Chartreuse before he swallowed it. And his eyes didn't match.”
It hadn't even occurred to them not to go aboard the Clarendon. They had put their names to her papers, they had taken her advance, spent it, and sail with her they would though she cleared for the Sulphur Lake.
“Besides,” said Webster, “I hate a ship where the crew grows fat. Makes 'em snore nights, being fat. Spoils your sleep.” ”

“ I took a good look at you out there as you went by—you're sailors. I'd like two bits for a meal and a bed. It's a cold night, mates.”
The Duke suspected that the modesty of his request was due to a bit of cunning knowledge as to the generosity of sailormen, but he made no comment.
“Set down!” said Webster, heartily, pulling out the chair beside him.
“Two bits, ——,” cried 'Arry Coy, digging down in his sock. “'Ere's two iron men, an Hi'll pay for wot yer can swallow now, Hi will!”
“Make yourself at home,” said Duke, continuing to give the fellow a close scrutiny. ”

“ Their arms dragged, being so tired they would almost drop from the weight of the fists swinging at long range—so they moved in closer, almost belly to belly. They now made no effort to duck or guard, counting it so much lost motion; no effort to dodge, only to strike. ”

“ Webster went on, ignoring the Duke's opinion—
“And there's always something that comes your way. No matter how bad a mess you're in, something turns up.”
“Turns up and knocks you off your feet,” added the Duke, who had relapsed into one of his morose moods.
“Yer right, Dick, ol' son. Yer right, that time Hi went hoverboard off Cape 'Orn, the water it was full of hice. But Hi said, ' 'Arry, ol' dear, it's something to 'ave the water cold. Yer know there's no sharks habout.' An' when they fished me hout they give me 'ot whisky, they did. ”

“ They were hardly at the table before a down-at-the-heels man, with a big wart on his cheek, near the nose, and eyes that were a bit cocked, came in from the street and said right off—
“Mates, I'm no moucher—look at them hands——”
He held them out, and showed the black streaks of tar in the salt water cracks of his hard hands.
“—I'm no moucher; but I've ducked off the worst heller that ever carried rotten grub to sea. I'm a stranger in this town and they're lookin' for me. I laid all day yesterday along the wharf waiting for the blankety-blank double-blanked mate to come ashore. ”