THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
pull himself up a few feet by hauling at the rail, then he would rest for a moment. William eyed him callously. It was some one who was going to have a fine headache in the morning. As the straggler came under the cluster of lights, he steadied himself as if marshaling what remained of his forces.
"Hello, Camden!"
The man peered into William's face. "Well, if it isn't m' old frien' W. Grogan! But your face is like Gaul, divided int' three parts. Any one of 'em 'll do me. Remember what you said? I'll have that kink in m' back in the morning, all righty. Ye gods, to get back to sea, where it's clean!"
"Want a pilot?" asked William, sensing that the man was deep in liquor.
"Fine! Pilot's the thing I need. Lo's of rocks in the channel, and I've los' m' chart." Camden accepted William's arm and commented upon the brawn of it. "You're 's strong 's a hoist-boom! Don't ever hit me, William; don't you ever hit me." At the companionway he pulled back. "I'll leave it to you, pilot. Three doors, and one of 'em 's right, but which is which, damn me!"
"I guess I'd better steer you down to your bunk, my lord. Some little load. Where'd you collect it?"
"Rome and her seven hills. Got to go to China. Boss wants some queues. Ha, ha! That's good! Boss wants some queues!"
William manœuvered him into the cabin and
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