"He said it was the first officer, your son, Cap'en, as prevented the ship bein' piled up on the voyage out, an' all but knocked Beecher down once. An' he said they was near fightin' half the time he was with 'em, an' he said—surprisin' solemn too—solemn as a man could as was half drunk—that after what he'd seen an' heard, anything as happened to the first mate was no accident, or anything like it. That's what he said, cap'en, confidential to me this mornin'."
We were walking along together now; and Mr. Cripps seemed puzzled that his information produced no more startling effect on my grandfather. The old man's face was pale and hard, but there was no sign of surprise; which was natural, seeing that this was no news, as Mr. Cripps supposed, but merely confirmation.
"He said there was never any skipper so partic'ler about the boats an' davits bein' kep' in order as Beecher was that trip," Mr. Cripps proceeded. "An' he kep' his own life-belt wonderful handy. As for the crew, they kep' their kit-bags packed all the time; they could see enough for that. An' he said there was some as could say more'n he could."
We came in view of the Hole in the Wall, and Mr. Cripps stopped short. "He don't know I'm tellin' you this," he said. "He came in the skipper's room with a drink, an' got talkin' confidential. He's very close about it. You know what sailors are."
Grandfather Nat frowned, and nodded. Indeed nobody knew better the common sailor-man's horror of complications and "land-shark" troubles ashore: of anything that might lead to his being asked for responsible evidence, even for his own protection. It gave impunity to three-quarters of the iniquity practised on the high seas.
"An' then o' course he's a deserter," Mr. Cripps proceeded. "So I don't think you'd better say I told you, cap'en—not to him. You can give information—or I can—an' then they'll make him talk, at the Old Bailey; an' they'll bring others."
Grandfather Nat winced, and turned away. Then he stopped again and said angrily: "Damn you, don't meddle! Keep your mouth shut, an' don't meddle."
Mr. Cripps's jaw dropped, and his very nose paled. "But—but——" he stammered, "but, Cap'en, it's murder! Murder agin Beecher an' Viney too! You'll do something, when it's your own son! Your own son. An' it's murder, Cap'en!"
My grandfather went two steps on his way, with a stifled groan. "Murder!" he muttered, "murder it is, by the law of England!"
Mr. Cripps came at his heels, very blank in the face. Suddenly my grandfather turned on him again, pale and fierce. "Shut your mouth, d'ye hear? Stow your slack jaw, an' mind your own business, or I'll——"