“We’ve kept this secret. Nobody knows what you know, and nobody knows what I know.”
“But somebody may know I’ve been there, and somebody may suspect—what I know.”
“You’ve got the shivers,” says Mr. Browning.
“I don’t want to lose out now, after all the trouble I’ve been through.”
“And you won’t,” says Mr. Browning. “Forget it.”
I was interested, you can bet, but just then I heard a racket on the after deck that sounded as if we had been boarded by pirates, and when I looked back, there were Naboth and Rameses III going it like all git out. Naboth had Rameses backed against the rail and was whacking at him with a dirty rag, and Rameses was whacking back with might and main, and the way they hollered at each other was a caution.
“You will go monkeyin’ with my brass, will ye?” Naboth hollered. “You hip-shouldered, bow-legged, cow-eyed wampus! Hain’t I told you time and again that I’d chaw ye up if I ketched you layin’ a rag to that rail? Eh? What d’you know about polishin’ brass, you soup-stirrin’, apple-stewin’ whang-doodle?”
“You hit me with that there rag, and I calc’late to show you. I was polishin’ brass when you was cuttin’ eye teeth. I know more about brass polishin’ in a minute than you do in a year. I got a right to shine brass if I want to. Hain’t I part of this here crew, you leather-necked ol’ turtle?”
“They’re at it again,” says Mr. Browning. “Been at it just like that ever since anybody ever heard of them. They always ship on the same yacht. You can’t separate them, but they never do a thing but fight. Next row’ll be because Naboth pokes his nose into the galley. Rameses thinks he’s a sailorman, and Naboth believes he’s a cook.”
“Why not let them swap jobs,” says Catty.