"  I  wonder,"  asked  Stirling,  with  a  pucker  on  his
brow,  "if  Marr  expects  that  crew  to  follow  him  in  a
lawless  enterprise?  Outside  of  three  or  four,  I
know  them  from  hearsay.  They're  drifters.  They
expect  nothing  but  an  iron  dollar.  Larribee
hasn't  paid  a  whaling  hand  a  cent  over  the  legal
dollar  in  five  seasons.  He  figures  the  advance  money
and  the  stuff  they  draw  from  the  slop-chest  is  enough
for  sea  scum.  He  has  no  heart  at  all!"

"Dirty  work!"

"It  is,"  said  Stirling,  sincerely.  "Particularly
when  they  don't  even  get  the  advance  money.  The
boarding-house  keepers,  crimps,  and  runners  get
that.  They  furnish  a  man  with  an  outfit  and  a
dunnage  bag.  The  outfit  consists  of  a  'donkey's
breakfast'  for  a  mattress  and  a  pair  of  pasteboard
sea  boots  which  will  melt  under  the  first  hose.  That's
no  way  to  send  a  man  North!"

Cushner  glanced  at  the  Ice  Pilot.  He  shook  his
head.  "You're  sticking  up  for  poor  Jack,"  he  said.
"That's  no  more  than  right.  The  laws  are  all  for
the  owners  and  the  boarding-house  crimps.  Poor
Jack  is  friendless.  What  can  he  do?"

"There's  seamen  and  seamen,  Sam!  There's  the
coasting  crews  and  the  deep-water  bunch  who  know


DRIFTERS  AND  DERELICTS  55

enough  to  get  big  wages  and  hold  to  the  Union.  The
ones  who  suffer  are  boys  like  we  got  forward.  They
have  no  chance;  they  work  eight  months  for  an  iron
dollar  and  are  cheated  out  of  that!"

Cushner  slanted  his  eyes  forward.  "They  don't
look  as  if  they'd  care  what  happened,"  he  said.
