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I ’ad ter. On’y way ter git me passage ’ome, see. “Can you look arter a cow?” they ses. “Yus,” I ses. That’s the way ter git on, that is. Say “Yus,” and ’ope. But I ’oped fer one cow, and they give me fifty. And forty-nine kicked me. Everyone bar Molly.’

      The young man laughed, but Ben didn’t. He was thinking of Molly. Molly had the nicest eyes, and he’d named her after someone he’d left behind him in Spain. Someone who had not been fortunate enough to get a job on a ship, but who was going to return to England somehow or other the moment she got the chance!

      The coast of England continued to bob up and down. Only, for a few seconds, it ceased to be the coast of England, and became the coast of Spain. The long straight smudge that would presently materialise into Southampton changed temporarily into a mountainous outline, with dead men upon it, and bulging black moustaches, and daggers so long that they could go right through you and still have room for a couple more. But there was something else, also, upon that mountainous outline. Something that gave a queer beauty to the hideousness … something that made one almost regretful one had left it … companionship …

      ‘If you want a job when we land, I dare say I could find it for you.’

      Ben came to with a jerk.

      ‘You’ve got to eat, I expect, like the rest of us, eh? And you can’t get cake for nothing.’

      ‘Wot sort of a job?’ asked Ben.

      ‘Well—how about that job you’ve dreamed of?’ smiled the young man. ‘Good pay and no work?’

      ‘Go on!’ said Ben.

      The young man laughed. He grinned down on Ben, while Ben squinted up at him. Ben’s head ended where the young man’s chin began.

      ‘I know a job like that,’ remarked the young man. ‘Maybe, for once in your life, you’re going to be lucky!’

      ‘Yus, but why should yer give it ter me?’ demanded Ben, suspiciously. ‘’Oo’s toldjer I’ve got the qualiticashuns?’

      ‘What! To receive a couple of quid a week for doing nothing?’ retorted the young man. ‘You can hold out your hand, can’t you?’

      ‘Eh?’ muttered Ben. ‘Cupple o’ quid?’

      Forty pounds of chedder!

      ‘And, after all, I owe you something, don’t I, for bumping into you like that and making you lose your cap. By the way, I’ll have to buy you another.’

      So it was this young fellow who had made him lose his cap, was it? Well, the gust of wind had certainly seemed a bit solid, now Ben came to think of it! But, at the moment, there were more important things to think of. This job! Go on! Did he really mean it?

      Ben did not like work. Not, at least, the kind of work he was given on the rare occasions when work came his way. You can’t dream that all the figures in Madame Tussaud’s are made of gorganzoler, or that you are hibernating in a hole in gruyere, while you are rubbing cows with a clothes-brush and trying to avoid their feet. But Ben realised that, as a general principle, you can’t make money in this ill-managed world without being expected to do something for it—and two pounds a week for the simple operation of holding out one’s hand was arresting.

      ‘Wot’d I ’ave ter do?’ he inquired.

      ‘I’ve told you,’ answered the young man. ‘Nothing.’

      ‘Yus, but I mean—ter git it?’

      ‘Oh, just call at an address I’d give you.’

      ‘Where?’

      ‘In London.’

      ‘’Ow’d I git ter Lunnon?’

      ‘Fare’s included. And—as I mentioned—that new cap.’

      ‘Go on!’

      ‘I’ve gone on. Now it’s your turn.’

      ‘Look ’ere,’ said Ben, coming to grips. ‘D’yer mean ter tell me that orl I’ve gotter do is jest ter say Yus?’

      ‘Yus,’ nodded the young man. ‘Provided my friend also says Yus.’

      ‘’Oo’s ’e?’

      ‘I’ll tell you, if you want the job.’

      Ben closed his eyes and thought hard. He always closed his eyes when he thought hard. When you think hard you have to push, like, against the darkness. Yet was there, in this case, anything to think hard about?

      Life had made Ben suspicious of everything and everybody. The cow Molly, and the girl the cow had been named after, were the only earthly items he would recommend to God when asked for his opinion; the only items that hadn’t got a catch in them somewhere. This young fellow beside him probably had dozens of catches in him! Just the same, with two quid a week and nothing to do—could one go wrong?

      ‘I’m on!’ said Ben, suddenly opening his eyes.

      ‘Good,’ answered the young man. ‘Then I’ll see you again when we’re off the boat, eh?’

      The next moment, he was gone.

      Ben stared after him. When they were off the boat, eh? P’r’aps that was the catch!

      But the future, on a heaving ship, is less vital than the present, and the disappearance of the young man brought thoughts back to one’s stomach. A wave struck the ship’s side with a hearty smack. ‘Fust was right,’ reflected Ben, as the spray showered down upon him. ‘I didn’t orter’ve ’ad that fag.’

      Another figure approached. It was the petty officer who looked after the man who looked after the cows.

      ‘Taking a little holiday?’ he inquired, with good-humoured sarcasm.

      ‘You gotter come up from cows sometimes,’ Ben defended himself. ‘They ain’t vilette der parme!’

      ‘That’s all right,’ nodded the officer. ‘You look a bit green.’

      ‘Put green by me, and you wouldn’t recekernise it,’ answered Ben. ‘’Ow long afore we’re goin’ ter stand on somethink that don’t wobble?’

      ‘We’ll soon be in now,’ smiled the officer, ‘and I can’t say I’ll be sorry, either, after this dirty bit o’ Channel. But, I say, you’re not supposed to jaw with the nobs, you know!’

      He glanced at the gold-tipped cigarette, as he spoke. Ben was still sticking it.

      ‘’E begun it,’ replied Ben. ‘’Oo is ’e?’

      ‘Not seen him before, eh?’

      ‘Never set eyes on ’im.’

      ‘Well, he’s had his eyes on you more than once during the voyage. Supercargo. Came on board the same port you did. Hallo, what’s happened to your top hat?’

      ‘Gorn hoverboard, arter me yeller gloves,’ answered Ben.

      ‘Well, see you don’t foller them!’ grinned the officer, as the ship gave another heave. ‘It’s time you were getting below again.’

      Ben nodded. After all, it didn’t really matter. It was equally uncomfortable everywhere.

      The cow Molly greeted him with friendliness. He swore that she knew him, just as he knew her. Her mouth, and the tongue that came out of it to lick his fingers, was especially soft, and when the man and the animal stared wordlessly into each other’s eyes, they understood each other. ‘Life’s not much fun,’ said the cow’s eyes. ‘Mouldy,’ replied Ben’s. ‘Frightening,’ said the cow’s. ‘’Orrible,’ said Ben’s. ‘But you seem all right,’ said the cow’s. ‘You ain’t so bad yerself,’ said Ben’s.

      Then he scratched the cow where cows like

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