Near Crispin sat Gurt, at the open window, chewing the quid of reflection, and looking excessively dismal, as he found this semi-classical existence somewhat dull, and moreover, true seaman as he was, viewed a prolonged sojourn on land with much disgust. He brightened up, however, when Maurice came in, and twisted his forelock in approved forecastle fashion with a scrape of his foot.
“Which I ses t’ this ’ere gent,” growled Gurt in his raucous voice, “‘w’ere is he?’ meanin’ you, sir, and Mr. Crispin ses he, ‘Oh, he’s gone down t’ valley,’ so ses I, ‘He’ll see the crew,’ and ses he, ‘It’s werry likely.’“
“I’m very sorry, Gurt,” said Maurice in some dismay, “but the fact is, I’ve been exploring the village with Justinian, and quite forgot to see after our mariners.”
“I wish you had done so, Maurice,” said Crispin in a vexed tone, looking up from his writing; “the poor fellows will think we have forgotten all about them.”
“Oh, we will go down this afternoon,” replied Maurice hastily. “I’ve no doubt they are all right down there. Lots of food and liquor and pretty girls! eh, Gurt?”
Crispin laughed and stroked his chin thoughtfully, while a gleam of humor shone in the solitary eye of the mariner.
“I seed,” said Gurt, addressing no one in particular, “as light a little craft as I ever clapped eyes on, gents. Her deck lights raked me fore and aft, they did.”
“Justinian will rake you fore and aft,” observed Crispin dryly, “especially if you make eyes at his womankind. This is a virtuous island, Gurt.”
“Well, sir, I ain’t a-goin’ agin’ it, sir,” growled Gurt reproachfully. “I care nothin’ for the petticoats. I don’t. Now if it was Dick, now”—here the old sinner cast up his eyes, as if unable to guess at Dick’s enormities.
“Oh, that is the smart young boatswain,” said Maurice quickly. “I’m glad he is all right. Why don’t you go down and see him, Gurt?”