He had not to wait long. It might be three yards in width, and a few more in length; but it was covered with ooze and slime, and the waves continually broke over it. ” Their eyes met for a moment. Visible underneath his collar were some metal tags. There MULSACK and SWIFTNECK, both prigs from their birth, OLD MOB and TOM COX took their last draught on earth: There RANDAL, and SHORTER, and WHITNEY pulled up, And jolly JACK JOYCE drank his finishing cup! For a can of ale calms, A highwayman's qualms, And makes him sing blithely his dolorous psalms And nothing the transit to Tyburn beguiles So well as a draught from the Bowl of Saint Giles! "Singing's dry work," observed the stranger, pausing to take a pull at the bottle. He proceeded to the deck, where Ruth and McClintock were waiting for him by the ladder.
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