'A most fortunate coincidence, Grinson, that you happened to be tattooed with the totem mark of these strange people,' said Trentham. 'But for that we might all have gone into the pot in turn.'

The four men were seated in a hut placed at their disposal by the chief, appeasing their famishment with a variety of more or less unfamiliar foods.

'Ay, ay, sir!' returned the boatswain; 'though I never heard it called a totem mark afore. True, my head was spinning like a teetotum when 'twas done, and if I 'd been a teetotaller--upon my word, sir, 'tis the remarkablest thing I ever heard on. Ephraim, me lad, you can bear me out: wasn't that the only time you ever saw me squiffed?'

'Which time was that, Mr. Grinson?' asked Meek.

'Why, the time I had this 'ere teetotum mark pricked into my biceps.'

'I 'm bound to say as how that was one of the times you was a trifle overcome, though nothing to what you might have been.'

'True, if I 'd been overripe they couldn't 'a done it, nor if I 'd had nothing at all, which it shows the good o' moderation, gentlemen. I was just comfortable; you know--when you 're pleased with everything and everybody. 'Twas like this. I was never like most sailormen, as gets tattooed their first voyage, and ever after has the sins o' their youth staring 'em in the face--like Ephraim, poor lad.'

Meek looked guiltily at his long bony wrists and tried to draw his sleeves down over the blue anchors tattooed on them.

'No,' Grinson went on, 'I was never a man for show. Well, some messmates of mine didn't understand my modest spirit, and laid their heads together for to give me the hall-mark as proves a seaman sterling, you may say. Ben Trouncer was at the bottom of it: the slyest sea-dog of a fellow you ever set eyes on. He come to me one night when I happened to be alone, all but Ephraim, in the bar-parlour of the "Jolly Sailors," and says, "Going to the meeting on Wednesday, Josy?" says he. "What meeting?" says I. "You don't mean to tell me you don't know!" says he. "I 'd never have believed it. All the others are going; meeting to form a sailors' goose club," says he. "Fust I heard of it," says I. "What's a goose club?" "Why," says he, "you pay so much a week, and at Christmas every sailor-man gets a goose, wherever he is--Melbourne, Shanghai, Buenos Ayres, anywhere you like. Fancy you not knowing of it! Why, they all expect you to be made treasurer of the club. Let's have another pot, and I 'll tell you all I knows."

'Well, Ben went on talking like a gramophone as won't run down--about subscriptions and foreign agents, and what a heap of money there 'd be to take charge of, and he hoped I 'd be made treasurer, because some of 'em wanted a scag called Joe Pettigrew, a fellow you wouldn't trust with the price of a pot of four-half, which I agreed with, and said if Joe was made treasurer he 'd get no subscriptions out of me. "Well," says Ben, "Joe 's the only man I 'm afraid of, and I 'll tell you why. Them as wants him are going to propose that no one as ain't tattooed is to be edible for membership--see? Just to keep you out, 'cos they know there ain't a speck of blue about you." "Ho!" says I. "That 's their game. Well, they can make Joe treasurer, and he 'll pinch all your money, but not mine, 'cos I can't join, not if I want to."