That evening, as Roger and Mr. Cledd, the new second mate, and I were sitting in the cabin and talking of our plans and prospects, we heard a step on the companionway.
"Who's that?" Mr. Cledd asked in an undertone. "I thought steward had gone for the night."
Roger motioned him to remain silent. We all turned.
To our amazement it was the cook who suddenly appeared before us, rolling his eyes wildly under his deep frown.
"'Scuse me, gen'lems! 'Scuse me, Cap'n Hamlin! 'Scuse me, Mistah Cledd!
'Scuse me, ev'ybody! Ah knows Ah done didn't had ought to, but Ah says,
Frank, you ol' nigger, you jest up 'n' go. Don't you let dat feller git
away with all dat yeh money."
"What's that?" Roger cried sharply.
"Yass, sah! Yass, sah! Hun f'om Boston! He's got de chisel and de hammer and de saw."
We all stared.
"Come, come, doctor," said Roger. "What's this cock-and-bull story?"
"Yass, sah, he's got de chisel and de hammer and de saw. Ah was a-watchin', yass, sah. He don't fool dis yeh ol' nigger. Ah see him sneakin' round when Chips he ain't looking."