“What captain?” pursued my friend.
The fellow again replied boldly, though his eyes wandered uneasily.
“What cargo?” asked my inexorable companion.
The beggar was not at fault, but answered correctly.
The name of the port, the reason of his discharge, and other questions were asked and answered; but the man was evidently beginning to be embarrassed. My friend pulled out his purse as if to give him something.
“What are you doing here?” continued the indefatigable inquirer. “Did you leave the coast for the purpose of trying to find a ship here?” (We were in Leicester.)
The man stammered and pulled at his useful forelock to get time to collect his thoughts and invent a good lie.
“He had a friend in them parts as he thought could help him.”
“How long since you were up the Baltic?”
“Year—and—a—arf,—yer—’onor.”