We did the best we could, which was very little, and then persuaded Moira to risk lying in the cleaner of the two rooms—we had chosen it for her because it had a bolt on the inside of the door and offered her a degree of privacy—while Peter and I berthed across the companionway, Peter on the floor by reason of his bulk, and I in the one cramped bunk. And I marvel to say that we went promptly asleep and did not waken until the noon sun was flooding through the grimy panes of the cabin windows.
A rumble of snores assured us that Flint and Bones were in their berths, but the sound of a familiar brogue drew us aft to the main cabin.
"And what way will ye ha' cause for complaint that ha' seen men walk the plank and been to Madygascar and the East Indies and Afriky where the naygurs come from? On me soul, ye sicken me with your whining! Holy ——, man, do but look to me that am a pirate these many months, and all the fighting they will ha' throwed in me way was with other pirates—and them great, powerful rogues that give as good as we sent. Sure, I haven't been at the scuttling of any wan——"
"But ye had a cutlass to your hand and a musket on your shoulder," protested another familiar voice. "And ye walk the deck wi'out shoes to your feet, and ye ha' a fine bright kerchief to the head o' ye, and if ye seek to haul on a rope or hold to the wheel there's no man will say ye nay, Darby. But wi' me it's been lackey's work an' livery-shuits since the first day I went to sea. It's 'Ben, clear the table!' or 'Fill up the glasses, Ben Gunn!' or 'Fetch me the 'backy, Gunn!' I'm no more a pirate than the Irish maid——"
"Don't ye be naming her, or I'll lay the end o' a rope to ye! I won't ha' ye talkin' the way ye were betther nor ye are. Didn't the cap'n give ye to me for me sarvant? Sure, he did! '—— me,' says he when we took ye, 'Darby, you're a good cabin boy and main lucky. I'll give ye the feller to be doin' your work for ye."
"Well, there was one promised to take me out o' livery-shuits," answered Gunn doggedly, "and if he——"
He broke off as we entered from the companionway, writhing with the excess of embarrassment which visited him when in the presence of several persons. Darby McGraw was no less surprized and leaped up from the chair in which he had been lounging, bobbing his head to Moira with the vigor of a heathen kowtowing to an idol. All the boy wore was a pair of canvas trousers belted about his waist and a kerchief from which straggled his carroty locks. A cutlass slapped his thighs, and three pistols were stuck through his belt.
"Master Bob!" he exclaimed. "And Master Peter, too! And—and—Misthress O'Donnell—sure, there's a harp within me does be strummin' pretty music this instant!"
He grinned; and for all his months aboard the Walrus, his grin was as sunny as in the counting-room in Pearl Street.
"Ye'll be forgivin' me, ma'am, that am Irish meself, and must think o' the lakes o' Wicklow when I look to your eyes."