"Ah, you see," said the foggy voice, with sly malice, "he did not know you so well then, sir. That was before he persuaded you to come into his house to stay with him."
It is probable that Captain Kettle would have found occasion to make acid comment on this repartee from his inferior officer, but at that moment another voice addressed him from the slit at the other side of his prison, and he turned sharply round. To his surprise this new person spoke in very tolerable English.
"Capt'n, I want t'make contrack wid you."
"The deuce you do. And who might you be, anyway?"
"I cullud gen'lem'n, sar. Born Zanzibar. Used to be fireman on P. and O. I want arsk you--"
"Is this the Arabian Nights? How the mischief did you get here, anyway?"
"Went on burst in Aden, sar. Th'ole Chief fired me out. Went Yemen. Caught for slave. Taken caravan. Brought here. But I'm very clever gen'lem'n, sar, an' soon bought myself free. Got slave of my own now. An' three wives. Bought 'nother wife yesterday."
"You nasty beast!" said Kettle.
"Sar, you insult me. Not bally Christian any longer. Hard-shell Mohammedan now, sar, and can marry as many wives as I can buy."
"I'm sure the Prophet's welcome to you. Look here, my man. Pass down a rope's end from aloft there, and let me get on deck, and I'll give you a sovereign cash down, and a berth in my steamboat's stoke-hold if you want one. I'm not asking you to help me more. I guess I'm quite competent to find my way on board, and to wipe this house tolerably clean before it's quit of me."