'How much does it cost you to get home?'
'Best part of a quid—sovereign, I means, sir.'
Tickle thought for a minute, nodded, numbered those men who were going, and then dismissed them.
Pincher thought nothing more of the conversation, but that evening he was told to go to the ship's office.
'Is your name Martin?' asked an assistant-paymaster when he arrived.
'Yessir.'
'You want some money to go on leave with, eh?'
'Yessir, please,' said the ordinary seaman, feeling hopeful.
'We can let you have thirty shillings. Is that enough?'
'Yessir,' Pincher exclaimed, his eyes glistening.