CHAPTER THE EIGHTH
*In which several weeks are supposed to elapse; and our hero isdiscovered in the Doldrums.*
The _Good Intent_ lay becalmed in the Doldrums. There was not windenough to puff out a candle flame. The sails hung limp and idle fromthe masts, yet the vessel rolled as in a storm, heaving on a tremendousswell so violently that it would seem her masts must be shaken out ofher. The air was sweltering, the sky the colour of burnished copper,out of which the sun beat remorselessly in almost perpendicular beams.Pitch ran from every seam of the decks, great blisters like bubbles roseupon the woodwork; the decks were no sooner swabbed than--presto!--itwas as though they had not known the touch of water for an age.
For two weeks she had lain thus. Sometimes the hot day would besucceeded by a night of terrible storm, thunder crashing around, thewhole vault above lacerated by lightning, and rain pouring, as it wereout of the fissures, in sheets. But in a day all traces of the stormwould disappear, and if, meanwhile, a sudden breath of wind had carriedthe vessel a few knots on her southward course, the hopes thus raisedwould prove illusory, and once more she would lie on a sea of moltenlead, or, still worse, would be rocked on a long swell that had all thediscomforts of a gale without its compensating excitement.
The tempers of officers and crew had gone from bad to worse. Theofficers snapped and snarled at one another, and treated the men witheven more than the customary brutality of the merchant marine of thosedays. The crew, lounging about half-naked on the decks, seeking whatshelter they could get from the pitiless sun, with little to do and nospirit to do anything, quarrelled among themselves, growling at theunnecessary tasks set them merely to keep them from flying at eachothers' throats.
The _Good Intent_ was a fine three-masted vessel of nearly 400 tons,large for those days, though the new East Indiamen approached 500 tons.When her keel was laid for the Honourable East India Company some twentyyears earlier, she had been looked on as one of the finest merchantvessels afloat; but the buffeting of wind and wave in a dozen voyages tothe eastern seas, and the more insidious and equally destructive attacksof worms and dry-rot, had told upon her timbers. She had been sold offand purchased by Captain Barker, who was one of the class known as"interlopers," men who made trading voyages to the East Indies on theirown account, running the risk of their vessels being seized andthemselves penalized for infringing the Company's monopoly. She was nowfilled with a miscellaneous cargo: wine in chests, beer and cider inbottles, hats, worsted stockings, wigs, small shot, lead, iron, knives,glass, hubble-bubbles, cochineal, sword-blades, toys, coarse cloth,woollen goods--anything that would find a market among the Europeanmerchants, the native princes, or the trading classes of India. Therewas also a large consignment of muskets and ammunition. When Desmondasked the second mate where they were going, the reply was that if heasked no questions he would be told no lies.
On this sultry afternoon a group of seamen, clad in nothing but shirtand breeches, were lolling, lying, crouching on the deck forward,circled around Bulger. Seated on an upturned tub, he was busily engagedin baiting a hook. Tired of the "Irish horse" and salt pork that formedthe staple of the sailors' food, he was taking advantage of the calm tofish for bonitos, a large fish over two feet long, the deadly enemy ofthe beautiful flying-fish that every now and then fell panting upon thedeck in their mad flight from marine foes. The bait was made toresemble the flying-fish itself, the hook being hidden by whiterag-stuffing, with feathers pricked-in to counterfeit spiked fins.
As the big seaman deftly worked with iron hook and right hand, he spunyarns for the delectation of his mates. They chewed tobacco, listened,laughed, sneered, as their temper inclined them. Only one of the groupgave him rapt and undivided attention--a slim youth, with hollowsunburnt cheeks, long bleached hair, and large gleaming eyes. His neckand arms were bare, and the colour of boiled lobsters; but, unlike therest, he had no tattoo-marks pricked into his skin. His breeches weretatters, his striped shirt was covered with parti-coloured darns.
"Ay, as I was saying," said Bulger, "'twas in these latitudes, on mylast voyage but three. I was in a Bristol ship a-carryin' of slavesfrom Guinea to the plantations. Storms!--I never seed such stormsnowhere; and, contrairywise, calms enough to make a Quaker sick. Incourse the water was short, an' scurvy come aboard, an' 'twas a hammockan' a round shot for one or other of us every livin' day. As reg'lar asthe mornin' watch the sharks came for their breakfast; we could see 'emcomin' from all p'ints o' the compass; an' sure as seven bells struckthere they was, ten deep, with jaws wide open, like Parmiter's therewhen there's a go of grog to be sarved out. We was all like the livin'skellington at Bartlemy Fair, and our teeth droppin' out that fast, theypattered like hailstones on the deck."
"How did you stick 'em in again?" interrupted Parmiter, anxious to geteven with Bulger for the allusion to his gaping jaw. He was athick-set, ugly fellow, his face seamed with scars, his mouth twisted,his ears dragged at the lobes by heavy brass rings.
"With glue made out of albicores we caught, to be sure. Well, as I wassaying, we was so weak there wasn't a man aboard could reach themaintop, an' the man at the wheel had two men to hold him up. Thingswas so, thus, an' in such case, when, about eight bells one arternoon,the look-out at the mast-head----"
"Thought you couldn't climb? How'd he get there?" said the samesceptic.
"Give me time, Parmiter, and you'll know all about the hows an' whys,notwithstanding and sobeits. He'd been there for a week, for why? 'coshe couldn't get down. We passed him up a quarter-pint o' water and abiscuit or two every day by a halyard. Well, as I was sayin', all atonce the look-out calls down, 'Land ho!'--leastways he croaked it, 'coswhat with weakness and little water our throats was as dry as lastyear's biscuit. 'Where away?' croaks first mate, which I remember hisname was Tonking. And there, sure enough, we seed a small island, whichit might be a quarter-mile long. Now, mind you, we hadn't made a knotfor three weeks. How did that island come there so sudden like? Incourse, it must ha' come up from the bottom o' the sea. And as we wasa-lookin' at it we seed it grow, mateys--long spits o' land shootin' outthis side, that side, and t'other side--and the whole concarn begins tomove towards us, comin' on, hand over hand, slow, dead slow, but sureand steady. Our jaws were just a-droppin' arter our teeth when fustmate busts out in a laugh; by thunder, I remember that there laughto-day! 'twas like--well, I don't know what 'twas like, if not thescrapin' of a handsaw; an' says he, 'By Neptune, 'tis a darned monstroussquid!' And, sure enough, that was what it was, a squid as big round asthe Isle o' Wight, with arms that ud reach from Wapping Stairs to BugsbyMarshes, and just that curly shape. An' what was more, 'twas steerin'straight for us. Ay, mateys, 'twas a horrible moment!"
The seamen, even Parmiter the scoffer, were listening open-mouthed whena hoarse voice broke the spell, cutting short Bulger's story anddispersing the group.
"Here you, Burke you, up aloft and pay the topmast with grease. I'llhave no lazy lubbers aboard my ship, I tell you. I've got no use fornobody too good for his berth. No Jimmy Duffs for me! Show a leg, or,by heavens, I'll show you a rope's end and make my mark--mind that, mylad!"
Captain Barker turned to the man at his side.
"'Twas an ill turn you did me and the ship's company, Mr. Diggle,bringing this useless lubber aboard."
"It does appear so, captain," said Diggle sorrowfully. "But 'tis hisfirst voyage, sir: discipline--a little discipline!"
Meanwhile Desmond, without a word, had moved away to obey orders. Hehad long since found the uselessness of protest. Diggle had taken himon board the _Good Intent_ an hour before sailing. He left him tohimself until the vessel was well out in the mouth of the Thames, andthen came with a rueful countenance and explained that, after all hisendeavours, the owners had absolutely refused to accept so youthful afellow as supercargo. Desmond felt his cheeks go pale.
"What am I to be, then?" he asked quietly.
"Well, my dear boy, Captain Barke
r is rather short of apprentices, andhe has no objection to taking you in place of one if you will makeyourself useful. He is a first-rate seaman. You will imbibe a vastdeal of useful knowledge and gain a free passage, and when we reach theIndies I shall be able, I doubt not, by means of my connexions, toassist you in the first steps of what, I trust, will prove a successfulcareer."
"Then who is supercargo?"
"Unluckily that greatness has been thrust upon me. Unluckily, I say; forthe office is not one that befits a former fellow of King's College atCambridge. Yet there is an element of good luck in it, too; for, as youknow, my fortunes were at a desperately low ebb, and the emoluments ofthis office, while not great, will stand me in good stead when we reachour destination, and enable me to set you, my dear boy--to borrow fromthe vernacular--on your legs."
"You have deceived me, then!"
"Nay, nay, you do bear me hard, young man. To be disappointed is notthe same thing as to be deceived. True, you are not, as I hoped,supercargo, but the conditions are not otherwise altered. You wished togo to India--well, Zephyr's jocund breezes, as Catullus hath it, willwaft you thither: we are flying to the bright cities of the East. Nofragile bark is this, carving a dubious course through the main, asSeneca, I think, puts it. No, 'tis an excellent vessel, with anexcellent captain, who will steer a certain course, who fears not theAfrican blast nor the grisly Hyades nor the fury of Notus----"
Desmond did not wait the end of Diggle's peroration. It was too late torepine. The vessel was already rounding the Foreland, and though he wasmore than half convinced that he had been decoyed on board on falsepretences, he could not divine any motive on Diggle's part, and hopedthat his voyage would be not much less pleasant than he had anticipated.
But even before the _Good Intent_ made the Channel he was woefullyundeceived. His first interview with the captain opened his eyes.Captain Barker was a small, thin, sandy man, with a large upper lip thatmet the lower in a straight line, a lean nose, and eyes perpetuallybloodshot. His manner was that of a bully of the most brutal kind. Hebrowbeat his officers, cuffed and kicked his men, in his best days amartinet, in his worst a madman. The only good point about him was thathe never used the cat, which, as Bulger said, was a mercy.
"Humph!" he said when Desmond was presented to him. "You're him, areyou? Well, let me tell you this, my lad: the ship's boy on board this'ere ship have got to do what he's bid, and no mistake about it. If hedon't, I'll make him. Now you go for'ard into the galley and scrape theslush off the cook's pans; quick's the word."
From that day Desmond led a dog's life. He found that as ship's boy hewas at the beck and call of the whole company. The officers, with theexception of Mr. Toley, the melancholy first mate, took their cue fromthe captain; and Mr. Toley, as a matter of policy, never sided with himopenly. The men resented his superior manners and the fact that he wassocially above them. The majority of the seamen were even moreruffianly than the specimens he had seen at the _Waterman's Rest_--thescum of Wapping and Rotherhithe. His only real friend on board wasBulger, who helped him to master the many details of a sailor's work,and often protected him against the ill-treatment of his mates; and, inspite of his one arm, Bulger was a power to be reckoned with.
At the best of times the life of a sailor was hard, and Desmond found itat first almost intolerable. Irregular sleep on an uncomfortablehammock, wedged in with the other members of the crew, bad food, andover-exertion told upon his frame. From the moment when all hands werepiped to lash hammocks to the moment when the signal was given forturning in, it was one long round of thankless drudgery. But he provedhimself to be very quick and nimble. Before long, no one could lash hishammock with the seven turns in a shorter time than he. After learningthe work on the mainsails and try-sails he was sent to practise the moreacrobatic duties in the tops, and when two months had passed, no oneexcelled him in quickness aloft. If his work had been confined to theordinary seaman's duties he would have been fairly content, for there isalways a certain pleasure in accomplishment, and the consciousness ofgrowing skill and power was some compensation for the hardships he hadto undergo. But he had to do dirty work for the cook, clean out thestyes of the captain's pigs, swab the lower deck, sometimes descend onerrands for one or other to the nauseous hold.
Perhaps the badness of the food was the worst evil to a boy accustomedto plain but good country fare. The burgoo or oatmeal gruel served atbreakfast made him sick; he knew how it had been made in the cook'sdirty pans. The "Irish horse" and salt pork for dinner soon becamedistasteful; it was not in the best condition when brought aboard, andbefore long it became putrid. The strong cheese for supper was evenmore horrible. He lived for the most part on the tough sea-biscuit ofmixed wheat and pea-flour, and on the occasional duffs of flour boiledwith fat, which did duty as pudding. For drink he had nothing but smallbeer; the water in the wooden casks was full of green, grassy, slimythings. But the fresh sea-air seemed to be a food itself; and thoughDesmond became lean and hollow-cheeked, his muscles developed andhardened. Little deserving Captain Barker's ill-tempered abuse, hebecame handy in many ways on board, and proved to be the possessor of aremarkably keen pair of eyes.
When, in obedience to the captain's orders, he was greasing the mast,his attention was caught by three or four specks on the horizon.
"Sail ho!" he called to the officer of the watch.
"Where away?" was the reply.
"On the larboard quarter, sir; three or four sail, I think."
The officer at once mounted the shrouds and took a long look at thespecks Desmond pointed out, while the crew below crowded to the bulwarksand eagerly strained their eyes in the same direction.
"What do you make of 'em, Mr. Sunman?" asked the captain.
"Three or four sail, sir, sure enough. They are hull down; there's nota doubt but they're bringing the wind with 'em."
"Hurray!" shouted the men, overjoyed at the prospect of moving at last.
In a couple of hours the strangers had become distinctly visible, andthe first faint puffs of the approaching breeze caused the sails to flaplazily against the yards. Then the canvas filled out, and at last,after a fortnight's delay, the _Good Intent_ began to slip through thewater at three or four knots.
The wind freshened during the night, and next morning the _Good Intent_was bowling along under single-reefed topsails. The ships sighted thenight before had disappeared, to the evident relief of Captain Barker.Whether they were Company's vessels or privateers he had no wish to cometo close quarters with them.
After breakfast, when the watch on deck were busy about the rigging orthe guns, or the hundred and one details of a sailor's work, the rest ofthe crew had the interval till dinner pretty much to themselves. Someslept, some reeled out yarns to their messmates, others mended theirclothes. It happened one day that Desmond, sitting in the forecastleamong the men of his mess, was occupied in darning a pair of breechesfor Parmiter. Darning was the one thing he could not do satisfactorily;and one of the men, quizzically observing his well-meant but reallyludicrous attempts, at last caught up the garment and held it aloft,calling his mates' attention to it with a shout of laughter.
Parmiter chanced to be coming along at the moment. Hearing the laugh,and seeing the pitiable object of it, he flew into a rage, sprang atDesmond, and knocked him down.
"What do you mean, you clumsy young lubber you," he cried, "by treatingmy smalls like that? I'll brain you, sure as my name's Parmiter!"
Desmond had already suffered not a little at Parmiter's hands. Hisendurance was at an end. Springing up with flaming cheeks he leapttowards the bully, and putting in practice the methods he had learnt inmany a hard-fought mill at Mr. Burslem's school, he began to punish theoffender. His muscles were in good condition; Parmiter was too muchaddicted to grog to make a steady pugilist; and though he was naturallymuch the stronger man, he was totally unable to cope with his agileantagonist. A few rounds settled the matter; Parmiter had to confessthat he had had enough, and D
esmond, flinging his breeches to him, satdown tingling among his mates, who greeted the close of the fight withspontaneous and unrestrained applause.
Next day Parmiter was in the foretop splicing the forestay. Desmond waswalking along the deck when suddenly he felt his arm clutched frombehind, and he was pulled aside so violently by Bulger's hook that hestumbled and fell at full length. At the same moment something struckthe deck with a heavy thud.
"By thunder! 'twas a narrow shave," said Bulger. "See that, matey?"
Looking in the direction Bulger pointed, he saw that the foretopsailsheet block had fallen on deck, within an inch of where he would havebeen but for the intervention of Bulger's hook. Glancing aloft, he sawParmiter grinning down at him.
"Hitch that block to a halyard, youngster," said the man.
Desmond was on the point of refusing; the man, he thought, might atleast have apologised: but reflecting that a refusal would entail acomplaint to the captain, and subsequent punishment, he bit his lips,fastened the block, and went on his way.
"'Tis my belief 'twas no accident," said Bulger afterwards. "I may bewrong, but Parmiter bears a grudge against you. And he and that thereMr. Diggle is too thick by half. I never could make out why Digglediddled you about that supercargo business; he don't mean you nokindness, you may be sure; and when you see two villains like him andParmiter puttin' their heads together, look out for squalls, that's whatI say."
Desmond was inclined to laugh; the idea seemed preposterous.
"Why are you so suspicious of Mr. Diggle?" he said. "He has not kept hispromise, that's true, and I am sorry enough I ever listened to him. Butthat doesn't prove him to be an out-and-out villain. I've noticed thatyou keep out of his way. Do you know anything of him? Speak outplainly, man."
"Well, I'll tell you what I knows about him." He settled himselfagainst the mast, gave a final polish to his hook with holy-stone, and,using the hook every now and then to punctuate his narrative, began:"Let me see, 'twas a matter o' three years ago. I was bosun on the_Swallow_, a spanker she was, chartered by the Company, London toCalcutta. There was none of the doldrums that trip, dodged 'em fair an'square; a topsail breeze to the Cape, and then the fust of the monsoonto the Hugli. We lay maybe a couple of months at Calcutta, when whatshould I do but take aboard a full dose of the cramp, just as the_Swallow_ was in a manner of speakin' on the wing. Not but what itsarved me right, for what business had I at my time of life to bewastin' shore-leave by poppin' at little dicky birds in the dirty slimyjheels, as they call 'em, round about Calcutta! Well, I was put ashore,as was on'y natural, and 'twas a marvel I pulled through--for it en'tmany as take the cramp in Bengal and live to tell of it. The Company,I'll say that for 'em, was very kind; I had the best o' nussin' andvittles; but when I found my legs again there I was, as one might say,high and dry, for there was no Company's ship ready to sail. So I gotleave to sign on a country ship, bound for Canton; and we dropped downthe Hugli with enough opium on board to buy up the lord mayor and abaker's dozen of aldermen.
"Nearly half a mile astern was three small country ships, such as mightcreep round the coast to Chittagong, dodgin' the pirates o' theSandarbands if they was lucky, and gettin' their weazands slit if theywasn't. They drew less water than us, and was generally handier in theriver, which is uncommon full o' shoals and sandbanks; but for all thatI remember they was still maybe half a mile astern when we droppedanchor--anchors I should say--for the night, some way below DiamondHarbour. But to us white men the ways o' these Moors[#] is always a bago' mystery, and as seamen they en't anyhow of much account. Well, itmight be about seven bells, and my watch below, when I was woke by amost tremenjous bangin' and hullabaloo. We tumbles up mighty sharp, andwell we did, for there was one of these country fellows board and boardwith us, and another foulin' our hawser. Their grapnels came whizzin'aboard; but the first lot couldn't take a hold nohow, and she droppeddown stream. That gave us a chance to be ready for the other. She gota grip of us and held on like a shark what grabs you by the legs. Butpistols and pikes had been sarved out, and when they came bundlin' overinto the foc'sle, we bundled 'em back into the Hugli, and you may besure they wasn't exactly seaworthy when they got there. They was amixed lot; that we soon found out by their manner o' swearin' as theyslipped by the board, for although there was Moors among 'em most of 'emwas Frenchies or Dutchmen, and considerin' they wasn't Englishmen theymade a good fight of it. But over they went, until only a few was left;and we was just about to finish 'em off, when another country shipdropped alongside, and before we knew where we was a score of yellin'ruffians was into the waist and rushin' us in the stern-sheets, as youmight say. We had to fight then, by thunder! we did.
[#] The natives of India were thus called by Englishmen in the 18thcentury.
"The odds was against us now, and we was catchin' it from two sides.But our blood was up, and we knew what to expect if they beat us. 'Twasthe Hugli for every man Jack of us, and no mistake. There was noorders, every man for himself, with just enough room and no more to seethe mounseer in front of him. Some of us--I was one of 'em--fixed theflints of the pirates for'ard, while the rest faced round and kept theothers off. Then we went at 'em, and as they couldn't all get at us atthe same time owing to the deck being narrow, the odds was not so badarter all. 'Twas now hand to hand, fist to fist, one for you and onefor me; you found a Frenchman and stuck to him till you finished himoff, or he finished you, as the case might be, in a manner of speakin'.Well, I found one lanky chap--he was number four that night, and all inten minutes as it were; I jabbed a pike at him, and missed, for it washard to keep footin' on the wet deck, though the wet was not Hugliwater; thick as it is, this was thicker--and he fired a pistol at me byway of thank you. I saw his figure-head in the flash, and I shan'tforget it either, for he left me this to remember him by, though Ididn't know it at the time."
Here Bulger held up the iron hook that did duty for his left forearm.Then, glancing cautiously round, he added in a whisper:
"'Twas Diggle--or I'm a Dutchman. That was my fust meetin' with him.Of course, I'm in a way helpless now, being on the ship's books, and hein a manner of speakin' an officer; but one of these days there'll be areckonin', or my name en't Bulger."
The sailor brought down his fist with a resounding whack on the scuttlebutt, threatening to stave in the top of the barrel.
"And how did the fight end?" asked Desmond.
"We drove 'em back bit by bit, and fairly wore 'em down. They warn'tall sailormen, or we couldn't have done it, for they had the numbers;but an Englishman on his own ship is worth any two furriners--aye, halfa dozen some do say, though I wouldn't go so far as that myself--and atthe last some of them turned tail an' bolted back. The ship's boy, whatwas in the shrouds, saw 'em on the run and set up a screech: 'Hooray!hooray!' That was all we wanted. We hoorayed too; and went at 'em insuch a slap-bang go-to-glory way that in a brace of shakes there warn'ta Frenchman, a Dutchman, nor a Moor on board. They cut the grapnels andfloated clear, and next mornin' we saw 'em on their beam ends on asandbank a mile down the river. That's how I fust come acrost Mr.Diggle; I may be wrong, but I says it again: look out for squalls."
For some days the wind held fair, and the ship being now in the maintrack of the trades, all promised well for a quick run to the Cape. Butsuddenly there was a change; a squall struck the vessel from thesouth-west. Captain Barker, catching sight of Desmond and a seaman nearat hand, shouted:
"Furl the top-gallant sail, you two. Now show a leg, or, by thunder,the masts will go by the board."
Springing up the shrouds on the weather side, Desmond was quickestaloft. He crawled out on the yard, the wind threatening every moment totear him from his dizzy rocking perch, and began with desperate energyto furl the straining canvas. It was hard work, and but for thedevelopment of his muscles during the past few months, and a naturallycool head, the task would have been beyond his powers. But setting histeeth and exerting his utmost strength, he accomplished his shar
e of itas quickly as the able seaman on the lee yard.
The sail was half furled when all at once the mast swung through a hugearc; the canvas came with tremendous force against the cross-trees; andDesmond, flung violently outwards, found himself swinging in mid-air,clinging desperately to the leech of the sail. With a convulsivemovement he grasped at a loose gasket above him, and catching a gripwound it twice or thrice round his arm. The strain was intense; thegasket was thin and cut deeply into the flesh; he knew that should itgive way nothing could save him. So he hung, the wind howling aroundhim, the yards rattling, the boisterous sea below heaving as if toclutch him and drag him to destruction. A few seconds passed, every oneof which seemed an eternity. Then through the noise he heard shouts ondeck. The vessel suddenly swung over, and Desmond's body inclinedtowards instead of from the mast. Shooting out his hand he caught atthe yard, seized it, and held on, though it seemed that his arm must bewrenched from the socket. In a few moments he succeeded in clamberingon to the yard, where he clung, endeavouring to regain his breath andhis senses.
Then he completed his job, and with a sense of unutterable relief sliddown to the deck. A strange sight met his eyes. Bulger and Parmiterwere lying side by side; there was blood on the deck; and Captain Barkerstood over them with a martin spike, his eyes blazing, his facedistorted with passion. In consternation Desmond slipped out of theway, and asked the first man he met for an explanation.
It appeared that Parmiter, who was at the wheel when the squall struckthe ship, had put her in stays before the sail was furled, with theresult that she heeled over and Desmond narrowly escaped being flunginto the sea. Seeing the boy's plight Bulger had sprung forward and,knocking Parmiter from the wheel, had put the vessel on the other tack,thus giving Desmond the one chance of escape which, fortunately, he hadbeen able to seize. The captain had been incensed to a blind fury,first with Parmiter for acting without orders and then with Bulger forinterfering with the man at the wheel. In a paroxysm of madness heattacked both men with a spike; the ship was left without a helmsman,and nothing but the promptitude of the melancholy mate, who had rushedforward and taken the abandoned wheel himself, had saved the vessel fromthe imminent risk of carrying away her masts.
Later in the day, when the squall and the captain's rage had subsided,the incident was talked over by a knot of seamen in the foc's'le.
"You may say what you like," said one, "but I hold to it that Parmitermeant to knock young Burke into the sea. For why else did he put theship in stays? He en't a fool, en't Parmiter."
"Ay," said another, "and arter that there business with the block, eh?One and one make two; that's twice the youngster has nigh gone to DavyJones through Parmiter, and it en't in reason that sich-like thingsshould allers happen to the same party."
"But what's the reason?" asked a third. "What call has Parmiter to havesuch a desperate spite against Burke? He got a lickin', in course, butwhat's a lickin' to a Englishman? Rot it all, the youngster en't a badmatey. He've led a dog's life, that he have, and I've never heard agrumble, nary one; have you?"
"True," said the first. "And I tell you what it is. I believe Bulger'sin the right of it, and 'tis all along o' that there Diggle, hang him!He's too perlite by half, with his smile and his fine lingo and all.And what's he keep his hand wropt up in that there velvet mitten thingfor? I'd like to know that. There's summat mortal queer about Diggle,mark my words, and we'll find it out if we live long enough."
"Wasn't it Diggle brought Burke aboard?"
"Course it was; that's what proves it, don't you see? He stuffs him upas he's to be supercargo; call that number one. He brings him aboardand makes him ship's boy: that's number two. He looks us all up anddown with those rat's eyes of his, and thinks we're a pretty ugly lot,and Parmiter the ugliest; how's that for number three? Then he makeshisself sweet to Parmiter; I've seed him more'n once; that's numberfour. Then there's that there block: five; and to-day's hanky-panky:six; and it wants one more to make seven, and that's the perfect number,I've heard tell, 'cos o' the Seven Champions o' Christendom."
"I guess you've reasoned that out mighty well," drawled the melancholyvoice of Mr. Toley, who had come up unseen and heard the last speech."Well, I'll give you number seven."
"Thunder and blazes, sir, he en't bin and gone and done it already!"
"No, he en't. Number seven is, be kind o' tender with young Burke.Count them words. He's had enough kicks. That's all."
And the melancholy man went away as silently as he had come.