Thank you, the sailor said.

He deposited the quid in his gob and, chewing and with some slow stammers, proceeded:

We come up this morning eleven o’clock. The threemaster Rosevean from Bridgwater with bricks. I shipped to get over. Paid off this afternoon. There’s my discharge. See?

D. B. Murphy. A. B. S.

In confirmation of which statement he extricated from an inside pocket and handed to his neighbour a not very cleanlooking folded document.

You must have seen a fair share of the world, the keeper remarked, leaning on the counter.

Why, the sailor answered upon reflection upon it, I’ve circumnavigated a bit since I first joined on.