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The second mate growled and walked off a pace or two.

“I’ve never been so ‘appy as I’ve been on this ship,” says Bill; “none of us ‘ave. We was saying so the other night, and everybody agreed as it was owing to you, sir, and your kindness to all of us.”

The second mate coughed, but Bill could see as ‘e was a bit pleased.

“The feeling came over me,” says Bill, “that when I leave the sea for good I’d like to ‘ave something o’ yours to remember you by, sir. And it seemed to me that if I ‘ad your–mattress I should think of you ev’ry night o’ my life.”

“My wot?” says the second mate, staring at ‘im. “Your mattress, sir,” says Bill. “If I might make so bold as to offer a pound for it, sir. I want something wot’s been used by you, and I’ve got a fancy for that as a keepsake.” The second mate shook ‘is ‘ead. “I’m sorry, Bill,” ‘e says, gently, “but I couldn’t let it go at that.”

“I’d sooner pay thirty shillin’s than not ‘ave it, sir,” says Bill, ‘umbly.

“I gave a lot of money for that mattress,” says the mate, ag’in. “I forgit ‘ow much, but a lot. You don’t know ‘ow valuable that mattress is.”

“I know it’s a good one, sir, else you wouldn’t ‘ave it,” says Bill. “Would a couple o’ pounds buy it, sir?”

The second mate hum’d and ha’d, but Bill was afeard to go any ‘igher. So far as ‘e could make out from Jimmy, the mattress was worth about eighteen pence–to anybody who wasn’t pertiklar.

“I’ve slept on that mattress for years,” says the second mate, looking at ‘im from the corner of ‘is eye. “I don’t believe I could sleep on another. Still, to oblige you, Bill, you shall ‘ave it at that if you don’t want it till we go ashore?”

“Thankee, sir,” says Bill, ‘ardly able to keep from dancing, “and I’ll ‘and over the two pounds when we’re paid off. I shall keep it all my life, sir, in memory of you and your kindness.”

“And mind you keep quiet about it,” says the second mate, who didn’t want the skipper to know wot ‘e’d been doing, “because I don’t want to be bothered by other men wanting to buy things as keepsakes.”

Bill promised ‘im like a shot, and when ‘e told me about it ‘e was nearly crying with joy.

“And mind,” ‘e says, “I’ve bought that mattress, bought it as it stands, and it’s got nothing to do with Jimmy. We’ll each pay a pound and halve wot’s in it.”

He persuaded me at last, but that boy watched us like a cat watching a couple of canaries, and I could see we should ‘ave all we could do to deceive ‘im. He seemed more suspicious o’ Bill than me, and ‘e kep’ worrying us nearly every day to know what we were going to do.

We beat about in the channel with a strong ‘ead-wind for four days, and then a tug picked us up and towed us to London.

The excitement of that last little bit was ‘orrible. Fust of all we ‘ad got to get the mattress, and then in some way we ‘ad got to get rid o’ Jimmy. Bill’s idea was for me to take ‘im ashore with me and tell ‘im that Bill would join us arterwards, and then lose ‘im; but I said that till I’d got my share I couldn’t bear to lose sight o’ Bill’s honest face for ‘alf a second.

And, besides, Jimmy wouldn’t ‘ave gone.

All the way up the river ‘e stuck to Bill, and kept asking ‘im wot we were to do. ‘E was ‘alf crying, and so excited that Bill was afraid the other chaps would notice it.

We got to our berth in the East India Docks at last, and arter we were made fast we went below to ‘ave a wash and change into our shoregoing togs. Jimmy watched us all the time, and then ‘e comes up to Bill biting ‘is nails, and says: