“In den minnits ve hat it all ofer, de olt man vas de boss, unt eferybody know it. All de fellers get forrut like sheeps, un’ ven de ole man sing out, ‘Grog oh!’ presently, dey come aft so goot as a Suntay-school. Ve haf no more trouble mit dem, but ven ve ket ter Callyo de ole man say, ‘Py Gott! I ain’t coin ter keep dis crout loafin’ rount here fur two tree mont’ vile ve vaitin’ fur our turn at de Chinchees. Run’em out, Misder Short; ve ket plenty men here ven ve vant ’em quite so goot as dese, un some blut money too!’ So de mate, he vork ’em up, make ’em rouse de cable all ofer de ballas’, schling ’em alof’, tarrin’ un schrapin’ an’ slushin’ all day long frum coffee-time till eight bells at night, unt I feet ’em yoost de same as at sea.
“In tree day efery galoot ov ’em vas gone, unt den ve haf goot times, I dell you, de Bosun unt Chips unt Sails vashin’ decks unt keepin’ tings shipshape. Ve lay dere tree mont’, an’ den de olt man ket his per-mit fur de islan’s. He vent to Bucko Yoe, de Amerigan boarding-master dat kill so many men—you hear of him before, ain’t it?—unt he say, ‘Yoe, I vant fifteen men to-morrow. I ton’d care a tarn who dey vas s’long’s dey’s life sailormen, put py Gott, ef you schanghai me enny ’longshoremen, alla det men, I fills you so full of holes dat you mage a No. 1 flour tretger. Dat’s all I’m coin t’ say t’ you.’ Bucko Yoe he larf, but he know de olt man pefore, unt he pring us fifteen vite men, all blind, paralytic tronk, but anybody see dey vas sailormen mit von eye.”
Just at this juncture, Sandy McFee, my especial chum, came strolling out of the fo’c’sle, his freshly-loaded pipe glowing and casting a grateful odour upon the quiet evening air. He was, like the cook, a square-set, chunky man, but he was also, in addition, one of the smartest men I ever knew. He brought up all standing at the unusual sight of the Doctor and myself enjoying a friendly cuffer, so surprised that he allowed his pipe to go out. The cook froze up promptly, and stared at the intruder stonily. It was an uncomfortable silence that ensued, broken at last by the rasping voice of the Aberdonian, saying, “Man Tammas, hoo d’ye manach t’ open th’ lips o’ yon Dutch immuj? Ah’d a noshin’ ut he couldna speyk ony ceevil language. Ye micht tell ma hoo ye manached it.”
He clutched his insulter by the beard and belt.
A certain quivering about the cook’s broad shoulders was the only visible sign that he had heard and understood the mocking little speech made by Scotty, but the latter had hardly finished when the Doctor rose to his feet, remarking with a yawn, as of a man who took no interest in the subject—
“I allvus t’ought Scossmen vas dam’ pigs, und now I knows it. But I nefer hear von crunt before. Vy tondt you co unt scradge yorselluf? You findt un olt proom forrut.”
Down went Sandy’s pipe, an articulate growl burst from his chest, and, with a spring like a grasshopper, he had clutched his insulter by the beard and belt. There was a confused whirl of legs and arms, a panting snarl deep down in the men’s throats, and suddenly, to my horror, I saw the cook go flying over the rail into space, striking the sea almost immediately afterwards with a tremendous splash. It was all so sudden that for the instant I was helpless. But the splash alongside started me into life, and, grabbing the coil of the fore-sheet behind me, I hurled it overside without looking. At the same moment Sandy, horror-struck at his mad action, sprang on to the pin-rail and dived after his victim.
The ship was just forging ahead through an oily smoothness of sea to a faint upper current of air, so that there was no great danger except from a prowling shark, but the short twilight was fading fast. As if intuitively, all hands had rushed on deck and aft to the quarter, while the helmsman jammed the wheel hard down. The vessel turned slowly to meet the wind, while we watched the man who had just hurled a fellow-creature to what might easily be his death, fighting like a lion to rescue him. The cook could not swim, that was evident, but it was still more evident that he had no thought of his own danger if only he might take his enemy along with him to death. He had, however, to deal with one who was equally at home in the water as on deck, and it was wonderful to see how warily, yet with what determination the little Scotchman manœuvred until he had the furious Norwegian firmly pinned by the arms at his back, and how coolly he dipped him again and again beneath the surface, until he had reduced him to quiescence.
Getting the boat out is usually in those ships a formidable task, and it was nearly half an hour before we had the two men safely on board again. The skipper was a quiet, amiable man, and this strange outbreak puzzled him greatly. Sandy, however, expressed his contrition, and promised to avoid the Doctor and his bitter tongue in future. So with that the skipper had to be content, especially as the cook recovered so rapidly from his ducking that we heard him in another half-hour’s time grinding coffee for the morning as if nothing had happened. But the strangest part of the affair to me was its outcome. Next morning, in our watch below, the Doctor came into the fo’c’sle, and, walking up to Sandy, put out his hand, saying—