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Updated: May 29, 2025
They were Mr Irons, the chief officer of Coastguard at Troy, and a young custom-house officer a stranger to Nicky-Nan. The morning sunlight played on their brass buttons and cap-rims. Nicky-Nan withdrew his head hastily. "Where's Sam?" he asked. "Gone down to Billy Bosistow's to fetch his sea-boots." "I don't follow 'ee." Nicky-Nan rubbed his unshaven jaw with two fingers.
Thus it happens that three-fourths of Billy Bosistow's cobbling is devoted to the "trigging" of boot-heels, while the wives, who mend all the small clothes, have long ago and by consent given up any pretence of harmonising the patch with the original garment.
Cornish had on a soldier's red jacket with white facings, and a pair of blue trousers out at the knees, while Bosistow's trousers were of white cloth, and he carried a japanned knapsack at the back of his red shirt: and with a white-painted straw hat apiece, you may guess they felt themselves looking like two figures of fun.
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