‘Simon Radley,’ quoth I ‘how came you in this plight? Have you lost all your clothes? Surely if you have, your comrades will lend you some, and you can make it up to them with the first of your prize-money.’
Well, at first the fellow would answer never a word. At length he muttered that he had been unlucky, very unlucky, but that it was nobody’s fault but his own, and that he would be better off soon. I insisted, however, on knowing what he had done with his clothes, upon which, after a great deal of stammering and hesitation, he plucked up his heart, and said broadly, that I had no business with his clothes, and that, if he chose to wear a clout, or paint himself and go half naked like the savages, it was nothing to me, or to any one else, so long as he did his duty manfully. Just as he was speaking, up came the boatswain, John Clink.
‘Simon Radley,’ says the old fellow, ‘you speak like a fool. It concerns us all, to see our comrades so bestowed as that they shall have the best chance of keeping their health, and not turning sick upon our hands. Now, I know where your clothes are, well. I have had my eye on you for some days past. Your clothes are in George Bell’s chest, with a good quantity of the clothes of the other men as well.’
‘Hush, hush,’ says Radley, ‘there is honour in these things. If they are in George Bell’s chest, it is because they belong to him.’
‘But how?’ cries I. ‘Have you sold the clothes, Simon?’
‘Sold them—no,’ says Clink. ‘He has lost them, or been cheated of them, at dice, with that fellow Bell, who is a sneaking vagabond, and always skulking out of the way, whenever he is wanted.’
I remembered now that I had very often seen Bell playing dice with others of the crew, but had taken no particular notice, such games being very common among privateersmen.
‘And so you have had bad luck, Simon?’ rejoined I.
‘Bad luck,’ interrupted Clink: ‘yes, and most of those have bad luck who play with George Bell.’
The conversation continuing, we gradually drew from Radley, that he had played with Bell for all the ready money which he possessed on leaving Jamaica, and lost it; that then he had played for a good set of mathematical instruments, and lost them; that then he had played for all his clothes, and lost them; and, although for some time his shipmates had supplied him, that he had lost in succession every article of clothing so given to him, in the same way; and that, finally, he had played for and lost his chances of prize-money during the whole cruize. All this the poor fellow told with great reluctance, seeming to consider such disclosures as a breach of honour; but on John Clink saying that, in his belief, Bell had been a common sharper in London, and had bubbled poor Radley out of his property, Simon grew very indignant, and swore that, if it were so, he would have Bell’s blood. However, we pacified him, and made him understand that before making any charge, we must have better proof. George Bell at this time being below, and in his hammock, I called up a number of the crew in succession, all of whom said that they had played with Bell, and that they had never won anything; that if, now and then, a cast of the dice was in their favour, yet that they always rose the losers. Some of these men had had their suspicions of Bell’s play, but as they had never compared notes, they were not aware, until I questioned them, how very similar all their cases were. They knew, indeed, that Simon Radley had been stripped, but they were loath to accuse a shipmate of foul play.