"Stolen, I reckon," growled a sailor; "but 'twarn't nobody on the fo'c'stle as done it, anyhow. It's been some o' them blessed firemen—thievin' wharf-rats every one!"
"Ay, they're the boys for hookin' things," added another. "Last v'y'ge I made, there was a fireman we called Sandy, as I'd seen hangin' around my sea-chest jist afore I missed suthin'. So I fixed a fish-hook to the lock, and nex' day Mr. Sandy had a precious sore finger somehow; and from that day for'ard we never called him nothing but 'Sandy Hook'. [A loud laugh from the rest applauded the joke.] But I'll lend the younker a shirt, willin'."
"And I."
"And I."
"Well, look'ee here, boys," said old Herrick, "let's give him poor Allen's chest and kit. He'll never need it more, poor fellow, and I've heerd him say he'd nary relation ashore. Seems to me Frank's the one as ought to have it: what say ye all?"
All agreed, and the drowned man's chest was pulled out and rummaged. Out came caps, jackets, trousers, shirts, sea-boots. Out came three or four letters and a photograph, which were laid aside to be handed over to the purser; and lastly, out came a small, well-thumbed Bible of old-fashioned look, which Herrick (after eying it thoughtfully for a moment) put into his own pocket.
"Whew! who'd ha' thought Allen kep' a Bible?"
"I have seen him spellin' in it, though, once and again; but he always shet it up when anybody cum nigh him."
"Well, well, 'twarn't it as brought him his ill luck, anyhow. Now, young un, let's see how the duds fit you."
But, as might have been expected, everything was "miles too big," and bagged about him in such a way as to make one of the men remark, with a grin, that "if he carried so much loose canvas, he'd founder in the first squall."