“You’re from Lonnon,” Nick said, after a time. “’Ow is the old town?”
Nick knew London like a book, and his reference to the music halls and sailor resorts set the men to talking.
“We’re goin’ back when we gets brass enough,” one of them said. “We’ve come over ’ere on a bloomin’ cruise after the wind on the tops of the tall buildings, that’s wot we has, mate.”
One of the men sprang to his feet.
“Hi’m goin’ after ’im,” he said.
“You’re drunk,” said the other. “Let ’im alone.”
“Hif you’re afraid to go, Hi goes halone,” was the reply.
“I’ll go with you to see the shark,” said Nick.
The sailor seized Nick’s hand and almost dragged him to the door.