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business down below. He would give me lots of trouble. I take you with me to save myself trouble in various circumstances; and you’ve got to enter on your work right away.” “Just so, sir,’ says I; and he slips down the companion. “With a gentleman you know at once where you are; but it was a ticklish job. The skipper was nothing to me one way or another, any more than you are at this moment, Mr. Schomberg. You may light your cigar or blow your brains out this minute, and I don't care a hang which you do, both or neither. To bring the skipper up was easy enough. I had only to stamp on the deck a few times over his head. I stamped hard. But how to keep him up when he got there 2 “Anything the matter, Mr. Ricardo P’ I heard his voice behind me. “There he was, and I hadn't thought of anything to say to him; so I didn't turn around. The moonlight was brighter than many a day I could remember in the North Sea. “Why did you call me? What are you staring at out there, Mr. Ricardo P’ “He was deceived by my keeping my back to him. I wasn’t staring at anything, but his mistake gave me a notion.
“I am staring at something that looks like a canoe over there,' I said very slowly. “The skipper got concerned at once. It wasn't any danger from the inhabitants, whoever they were. “Oh, hang it!” says he. ‘That's very unfortunate.” He had hoped that the schooner being on the coast would not get known so very soon. ‘Dashed awkward, with the business we've got in hand, to have a lot of niggers watching operations. But are you certain this is a canoe P’ “It may be a drift-log,' I said; “but I thought you had better have a look with your own eyes. You may make it out better than I can.” “His eyes weren't anything as good as mine. But he says: “Certainly. Certainly. You did quite right.” “And it's a fact I had seen some drift-logs at sunset. I saw what they were then and didn't trouble my head about them, forgot all about it till that very moment. Nothing strange in seeing drift-logs off a coast like that; and I’m hanged if the skipper didn't make one out in the wake of the moon. Strange what a little thing a man’s life hangs on sometimes— a single word! Here you are, sitting unsuspicious before me, and you may let out something unbeknown to you that would settle your hash. Not that I have any ill-feeling. I have no feelings. If the skipper had said, ‘Oh, bosh!’ and had turned his back on me, he would not have gone three steps towards his bed; but he stood there and stared. And now the job was to get him off the deck when he was no longer wanted there. “We are just trying to make out if that object there is a canoe or a log,” says he to Mr. Jones. “Mr. Jones had come up, lounging as carelessly as when he went below. While the skipper was jawing about boats and drifting logs, I asked by signs, from behind, if I hadn’t better knock him on the head and drop him quietly overboard. The night was slipping by, and we had to go. It couldn't be put off till next night no more. No. No more. And do you know why 2" Schomberg made a slight negative sign with his head. This direct appeal annoyed him, jarred on the induced quietude of a great talker forced into the part of a listener and sunk in it as a man sinks into slumber. Mr. Ricardo struck a note of scorn. . “Don’t know why P Can't you guess? No? Beause the boss had got hold of the skipper's cash-box by then. See?”
“A common thief!” Schomberg bit his tongue just too late, and woke up completely as he saw Ricardo retract his lips in a catlike grin; but the companion of “plain Mr. Jones” didn't alter his comfortable, gossiping attitude. “Garn! What if he did want to see his money back, like any tame shopkeeper, hash-seller, ginslinger, or ink-spewer does P Fancy a mud-turtle, like you trying to pass an opinion on a gentleman! A gentleman isn't to be sized up so easily. Even I ain't up to it sometimes. For instance, that night, all he did was to waggle his finger at me. The skipper stops his silly chatter, surprised. “‘Eh P What’s the matter P’ asks he. “The matter! It was his reprieve—that's what was the matter. “‘Oh, nothing, nothing,’ says my gentleman. ‘You are perfectly right. A log—nothing but a log.’ “Ha, ha! Reprieve, I call it, because if the skipper had gone on with his silly argument much longer he would have had to be knocked out of the way. I could hardly hold myself in on account of the precious minutes. However, his guardian angel put it into his head to shut up and go back to his bed. I was ramping mad about the lost time. “Why didn't you let me give him one on his silly coconut, sir?” I asks. “No ferocity, no ferocity,” he says, raising his finger at me as calm as you please. “You can’t tell how a gentleman takes that sort of thing. They don’t lose their temper. It’s bad form. You'll never see him lose his temper—not for anybody to see, anyhow. Ferocity ain't good form, either—that much I’ve learned by this time, and more, too. I’ve had that schooling that you couldn't tell by my face if I meant to rip you up the next minute—as of course I could do in less than a jiffy. I have a knife up the leg of my trousers.” “You haven't!” exclaimed Schomberg incredulously. Mr. Ricardo was as quick as lightning in changing his lounging, idle attitude for a stooping position, and exhibiting the weapon with one jerk at the left leg of his trousers. Schomberg had just a view of it, strapped to a very hairy limb, when Mr. Ricardo;