In the North
Sea fleets there are 12,000 powerful fellows who are practically
condemned to celibacy, and the human apes who sold the bawdy pictures
drove a rare trade among the swarming vessels.
Jim Billings was a capital customer to the Copers, for his animalism ran
riot, and he was more like a tremendous automaton than like a man.
So this mighty creature lived his life, drinking, fighting, toiling,
blaspheming, and dwelling in rank darkness. He often spoke of "Gord,"
and his burly childishness tickled me infinitely. I liked Jim; he was
such a Man when one compared him with our sharps and noodles; but I
never expected to see him fairly distance me in the race towards
respectability. I am still a Loafer; Jim is a most estimable member of
the gentlest society; and this is how it all came about.
On one grey Sunday morning a pretty smack came creeping through the
fleet. Far and near the dark trawlers heaved to the soft swell, and they
looked picturesque enough; but the strange vessel was handsomer than
any of the fishing-boats, and Jim's curiosity was roused.
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