"Well, Martin," says he as we followed together, "and how think ye of my lambs?"
"Call them raging tigers, rather—"
"Nay," says he, "tigers be cleanly creatures, I've heard."
"'A God's name, Adam, why truck with such ill rogues? Sure there be many honest mariners to be had?"
"Why as to that, Martin, good men be scarce and ever hard to come by—moreover these scum are a means to an end, d'ye see?"
"How so?"
"Just that, Martin," says he, glancing at me in his furtive manner, "a means to an end."
"What end?"
"Ah, who may tell, Martin?" he sighed, shaking his head. Now when I would have questioned him further he put me off thus with side answers, until we were come to the waterside, which is called Deptford Creek. Here, having seen the others safe embarked we took boat also, and were soon rowing between the huge bulk of ships where dim lights burned and whence came, ever and anon, the sound of voices, the rattle of a hawser, a snatch of song and the like, as we paddled betwixt the vast hulls. Presently we were beneath the towering stern of a great ship, and glancing up at this lofty structure, brave with carved-work and gilding, I read the name,