“‘Glass o’ bitter, ma’am, please,’ he ses to the old lady as she came out o’ the little parlour at the back o’ the bar.
“The old lady drew the beer, and then stood with one ’and holding the beer-pull and the other on the counter, looking at Ginger Dick in ’is new blue jersey and cloth cap.
“‘Lovely weather, ma’am,’ ses Ginger, putting his left arm on the counter and showing the sailor-boy dancing the hornpipe.
“‘Very nice,’ ses the landlady, catching sight of ’is wrist an’ staring at it. ‘I suppose you sailors like fine weather?’
“‘Yes, ma’am,’ ses Ginger, putting his elbows on the counter so that the tattoo marks on both wrists was showing. ‘Fine weather an’ a fair wind suits us.’
“‘It’s a ’ard life, the sea,’ ses the old lady.
“She kept wiping down the counter in front of ’im over an’ over agin, an’ ’e could see ’er staring at ’is wrists as though she could ’ardly believe her eyes. Then she went back into the parlour, and Ginger ’eard her whispering, and by and by she came out agin with the blue-eyed barmaid.
“‘Have you been at sea long?’ ses the old lady.
“‘Over twenty-three years, ma’am,’ ses Ginger, avoiding the barmaid’s eye wot was fixed on ’is wrists, ‘and I’ve been shipwrecked four times; the fust time when I was a little nipper o’ fourteen.’
“‘Pore thing,’ ses the landlady, shaking ’er ’ead. ‘I can feel for you; my boy went to sea at that age, and I’ve never seen ’im since.’