failed to do so, simply letting spirt a jet of spew into the sawdust, and shook his head with a sort of lazy scorn.

What year would that be about? Mr B interrogated. Can you recall the boats?

Our soi-disant sailor munched heavily awhile hungrily before answering:

I’m tired of all them rocks in the sea, he said, and boats and ships. Salt junk all the time.

Tired seemingly, he ceased. His questioner perceiving that he was not likely to get a great deal of change out of such a wily old customer, fell to woolgathering on the enormous dimensions of the water about the globe, suffice it to say that, as a casual glance at the map revealed, it covered fully three fourths of it and he fully realised accordingly what it meant to rule the waves.