"You'll pardon me, sir, but if that's made an essential, I must chuck up the job, sorely in need of employment as I am at the moment. I have my conscience to consider. And besides as a liar I am the poorest kind of failure."
"Pooh, man, it's only a little acting that's required."
"Mr. Carter," said the sailor still more stiffly, "you see in me a man who's sunk very low, but I've never descended yet to working as a theatrical. According to our Persuasion, we hold that play acting is one degree less wicked than bigamy, and indeed often leads to it."
"Well," said Carter, "that mail-boat sails in half an hour's time, and I've got to go by her. I've been building on you, Captain, as the most trustworthy man now knocking about in West Africa."
"I'm all that, sir."
"So I shall have to respect your scruples and give you the billet."
"You shall never regret it for one minute, sir. You'll find the address of Mrs. Kettle on this slip of paper, and if you'll post three-quarters of my wages to her as they fall due, I'd take it as a favor. I've been out of—well, I won't pester you with domestic matters, sir, but the fact is I'm afraid she must be in very poor circumstances just at the moment."
"She shall have a check posted the day after I land in Liverpool. I give you my word for that."
"I thank you, Mr. Carter. Now, if you wanted another officer, there's a Mr. McTodd, an engineer who's just now at Akassa, that I could get."
"Thanky, Captain, but not for me."