"Th' soldier men made way for her on th' dock, but she looked straight beyant her nose an' held her way firm an' strong until she went out av sight, lavin' O'Toole starin' after her.
"''Pon me whurd, Garnett,' he called, ''tis a most wonderful thing, look!'
"''Tis a mother's love, ye haythen; 'pon me whurd, there's nothin' else like it. See how th' news affected th' poor old crayther. It puts me in mind av the time whin I had an old leddy t' look after me. 'Tis a rale jewil av a thing, an' a man only has it th' onct.'
"'More's th' pity,' says Garnett. 'Sink ye, but ye sure are a tough one to tell th' old gal on so short notice. But ye niver did have no feelin's, ye bloomin' heathen.'
"''Pon me sowl, what cud I do else?'
"'O' course, 'tain't likely a rough feller like you could do any better, but whin any wimmen folks come aboard agin, come to a man as is used to thim. A man as can talk an' act in a way they likes. A man wid some ways to him. A man--' Here he stooped an' picked up th' button th' old gal had dropped.
"'Where did this come from?' he asked.
"'She had it in her mouth,' says O'Toole.
"'Well, it's one av th' buttons off a uniform that ain't healthy to be wearin' around these parts just now.' An' then they both looked hard at th' little thing.
"'D'ye s'pose it cud have been?' asked O'Toole.
"'Been what?' says Garnett.
"'Jameson, ye blatherin' ijiot. Jameson, th' same as left his wife, a-comin' here huntin' for her. 'Twas so, fer a fact. He had it in his mouth to kape us from knowin' his voice, an' by th' same tokin, I calls to mind th' chokin' in his throat, the scand'lous owld woman he was.'
"'Stave me, but ye might have been right for onct in yer life, so bear a hand an' let's stand away after him an' ketch th' old leddy an' see,' says Garnett.
"They started off without listenin' to my hail, so I climbed down to th' dock an' follows. It was evenin' now, an' th' street was crowded, but they pushed along ahead av me.
"Ye see it ware Jameson, sure enough, an whin he heard his wife ware dead, he wint up that street like a man in a dream. He forgot all about his dress, an' his face ware hard set like a man thinkin' over th' past. He had some five minutes' start av th' mates, an' whin a poor beggar woman spoke to him he scared her half to death with his voice when he asked her th' way to th' cemetery. Thin he remembered his disguise, stepped into a doorway, pulled off th' dress an' hat an' flung thim to th' old beggar woman, an' went his way.
"Garnett an' O'Toole came along a few minutes later an' saw th' beggar.
"'There he is. That's him,' sung out the old sailor, pintin' to th' old gal walkin' along wid her rags tied in a bundle tucked under her arm, fer she had made shift to change thim fer Jameson's slops.
"''Pon me whurd, ye're right fer onct agin,' says O'Toole.
"'Well, don't go a-spoilin' th' thing this time. Let me sail inter him, an' if I wants yer, I'll sing out, an' ye can bear a hand an' help.' Garnett swung across th' street to overhaul th' old woman, an' came up behind her.
"'Evenin', old lady, I wants to have a talk wid ye;' an' he lays his hand on her shoulder wid a grip to take a piece av flesh out. She stopped an' turned quick.
"'Caramba!' she yells; 'I teach ye to insult a dacent old lady, you Yankee dog. Help! Murder! ye bloody raskil! Help, help!' Thin she ware upon him like a wild cat, a clawin' an' bitin', screechin' and yellin'.
"'Sink you for a bloody scoundrel, Jameson, I knows ye,' roared Garnett. 'Larry, there, bear a hand. I have him.'
"'Hold him thin, ye brave man,' sings out O'Toole, comin' up. 'Go it, owld gal, give it to him. 'Tis a leddy-killer he is fer sure, 'pon me whurd, fer a fact. Claw him, bite him, even though he's as tough as nails. Yell him deaf, owld leddy. Do it fer his mether's sake, th' scand'lous owld rake he is. Get his year in yer teeth an' hold on, fer 'tis a leddy-killer ye have in yer hands at last. Whang his hide off! Whang him! Whang him!' An' I thought th' old raskil would die av laffin'.
"We ware crowdin' around thim to see th' fun, an' th' way that old gal whanged an' lammed, an' lammed an' whanged, wud have brung tears to yer eyes. 'Twas too much fer human natur' to stan', an' so away goes Garnett down th' street as fast as his bow-legs can git him over th' beach, wid his sheets slacked off a-runnin' free, an' likewise, b' th' same tokin, away squares th' old leddy wid her skysails set an' everythin' drawin' 'cept her skirts, which she holds b' th' clews an' bunts.
"'After him! Catch th' blackguard!' bawls O'Toole, rolling on th' pavement, laffin' an' bawlin'.
"That old beggar was clipper built, fer sure, for wid her skirts clewed up she ware bearin' down fast on th' old mate an' kept his bow-legs a-lurchin' afore th' crowd a-comin' along in th' wake a-yellin' an' hootin' like mad. A man jumped out to stop him, but I knowed Garnett would niver stop this side o' th' gangway av his ship, an' sure 'nuff, out flashes his hand an? th' Dago rolls over an' over. They yelled harder than ever, an' Garnett had to shake out another reef afore he could make th' gang-plank, an' get aboard. He managed to get below jest as some soldiers rushed up. Th' noise brought Andrews on deck in time to get men to keep th' crowd off his ship, an' thin O'Toole comes up.
"'What's th' row?' he bawls to th' mate, but O'Toole ware laffin' so he couldn't spake a whurd. Finally he got it out.
"'Faith, 'tis th' leddy-killer av th' fleet, Garnett, at his owld game,' sez he. ''Pon me whurd, 'tis a hangin' matter this time, fer th' damage he's done th' sex. He ware--' but he bruk down afore he could finish.
"'Twas five minits afore he could tell what had happened, th' old gal cussin' an' swearin' an' th' crowd a-hootin' an' jeerin', but finally th' skipper got some soldiers to carry th' old gal away. Thin out comes Garnett on th' main deck a-smellin' av his little vial, but avoidin' av th' skipper's eye.
"'What th' devil did ye mean?' asked Andrews; 'did ye take her to be Jameson in disguise?'
"''Pon me whurd,' says O'Toole, 'th' first wan that comes aboard was no other--an' this one looked enough like him from a stern view. 'Tis a bad trade, though, this killin' av leddies.' An' he leered so at Garnett he swore horrible an' went forrads.
"I ware standin' close enough to catch th' glint in Andrews' eye whin this ware said, but he took no notice an' went ashore, an' as I followed after him he was thinkin' hard."
Here Chips spat quietly into the corner, fingered his pipe, and rammed the ash down. Then he looked up at the light, and a different expression came upon him. The bos'n's smile died away, and all sat listening for the finish. Far forward sounded the cries of men dressing down the head sheets.
"I hadn't much to do," continued Chips, softly, "so I walked on an' saw him stop at a flower stand an' buy a bunch av roses. I wint across to th' cemetery where th' trees are good to look at an' th' grass is green as th' sea nigh th' States. I hadn't gone far whin I sees a man standin' nigh a grave wid another man lyin' on it. I couldn't tell who th' men ware till I came close, fer 'twas now gettin' dark. Thin when Andrews stooped an' lifted th' head av th' one lyin' down, I saw them both plain enough. Jameson's head made me feel sick wid th' horror av it. Whin I spoke, Andrews let th' poor fellow sink back again, an' as I stood alongside I saw th' flowers th' skipper had bought lyin' on th' grave nigh th' hand av poor Jameson, which still held his pistil. Th' old man said nothin', but there ware a hard look in his eyes as I saw him lookin' at th' tops av th' big Chilean mountings where th' sunken sun made them a bloody red. He ware thinkin' hard, an' seemed to be watchin' a flock av vultures a-comin' over th' range, stringin' out in a long line av black specks. Thin all av a sudden he stooped an' picked up the flowers an' placed thim gentle like on th' head av the grave--'twas the only gentil thing I iver knew him to do--an' thin walked away without a word. That's th' last I saw av him until I shipped aboard here, for he cleared from Valparaiso th' next day."