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“Rubbish!” said Dan uneasily. “He can stick to his tale of being upset; anyway, the skipper saw him pulled out of the water. He’s too honest a chap to get an old man into trouble for trying to help him.”

“He must have a new rig out, Dan,” said Joe softly. “You an’ me’ll go an’ buy ’em. I’ll do the choosing, and you’ll do the paying. Why, it’ll be a reg’lar treat for you to lay out a little money, Dan. We’ll have quite an evening’s shopping, everything of the best.”

The infuriated Dan gasped for breath, and looked helplessly at the grinning crew.

“I’ll see him–overboard first,” he said furiously.

“Please yourself,” said Joe shortly, “If he’s caught you’ll get six months. As it is, you’ve got a chance of doing a nice, kind little Christian act, becos, o’ course, that twenty-five bob you got out of him won’t anything like pay for his toggery.”

Almost beside himself with indignation, the old man moved off, and said not another word until they were made fast to the wharf at Limehouse. He did not even break silence when Joe, taking him affectionately by the arm, led him aft to the skipper.

“Me an’ Dan, sir,” said Joe very respectfully, “would like to go ashore for a little shopping. Dan has very kindly offered to lend that pore chap the money for some clothes, and he wants me to go with him to help carry them.”

“Ay, ay,” said the skipper, with a benevolent smile at the aged philanthropist. “You’d better go at once, afore the shops shut.”

“We’ll run, sir,” said Joe, and taking Dan by the arm, dragged him into the street at a trot.

Nearly a couple of hours passed before they returned, and no child watched with greater eagerness the opening of a birthday present than Smith watched the undoing of the numerous parcels with which they were laden.

“He’s a reg’lar fairy godmother, ain’t he?” said Joe, as Smith joyously dressed himself in a very presentable tweed suit, serviceable boots, and a bowler hat. “We had a dreadful job to get a suit big enough, an’ the only one we could get was rather more money than we wanted to give, wasn’t it, Dan?”

The fairy godmother strove manfully with his feelings.

“You’ll do now,” said Joe. “I ain’t got much, but what I have you’re welcome to.” He put his hand into his pocket and pulled out some loose coin. “What have you got, mates?”

With decent good will the other men turned out their pockets, and, adding to the store, heartily pressed it upon the reluctant Smith, who, after shaking hands gratefully, followed Joe on deck.

“You’ve got enough to pay your fare,” said the latter; “an’ I’ve told the skipper you are going ashore to send off telegrams. If you send the money back to Dan, I’ll never forgive you.”

“I won’t, then,” said Smith firmly; “but I’ll send theirs back to the other chaps. Good-bye.”

Joe shook him by the hand again, and bade him go while the coast was clear, advice which Smith hastened to follow, though he turned and looked back to wave his hand to the crew, who had come up on deck silently to see him off; all but the philanthropist, who was down below with a stump of lead-pencil and a piece of paper doing sums.