'What is he, do you think?'
'A sailor, I should say.'
'Did he pay cash?'
'Bright cash.' And the jeweller, half-closing one eye, pulled out a handful of glittering sovereigns, at which the hairdresser gazed with admiration.
'Perhaps he's the gent that got himself lost in the Devil's Walk,' said the hairdresser.
The jeweller smote his thigh and cried, 'That's it! And the bracelet's gone to Miss Conway.'
Captain Jackman disappeared from their gaze. He turned the corner of the long gap, which was scarcely made a street of by the row of houses on top, and found on the right a short wooden wharf about whose piles the seas were toiling. A number of fine fishing-boats lay off this wharf, and rode the rolling comber with perfect grace to their anchors. Westward, beyond this wharf, was a sort of natural harbour; but it was evident that the place was only used by the men for convenience, and that they landed their catches in other harbours.
'Well, what's doing here?' said Captain Jackman to a tall, powerfully built seaman in the rough dress, heavy boots, belt, and hanging cap of those times.
'There we are,' said the man, pointing to the smacks rolling broadside on to the wharf.