As a boy he had enlisted in the British navy,
and for two score years and more served faithfully
and well. Names, dates, commanders, ports, ships,
engagements, and battles, rolled from his lips in a
steady stream, but it is beyond me to remember
them all, for it is not quite in keeping to take notes
at the poorhouse door. He had been through the
First War in China, as he termed it; had enlisted
in the East India Company and served ten years in
India; was back in India again, in the English
navy, at the time of the Mutiny; had served in the
Burmese War and in the Crimea; and all this in
addition to having fought and toiled for the English
flag pretty well over the rest of the globe.

Then the thing happened. A little thing, if it
could only be traced back to first causes: perhaps
the lieutenant s breakfast had not agreed with him;
or he had been up late the night before; or his
debts were pressing; or the commander had spoken
brusquely to him. The point is, that on this
particular day the lieutenant was irritable. The
sailor, with others, was setting up the fore rigging.

Now, mark you, the sailor had been over forty
years in the navy, had three good conduct stripes,
and possessed the Victoria Cross for distinguished
service in battle; so he could not have bee-; such an
altogether bad sort of a sailorman. The lieutenant
was irritable; the lieutenant called him a name

[[69]]

p068 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p069w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p070

v?