He was mistaken; there was fun in me, but there was also prudence, and from what I had latterly seen of Tommy Dott, I did not think he was to be trusted.
The day after we anchored at Carlisle Bay, Tommy came to me and said, “Old Culpepper serves out plums and suet this afternoon; I heard him tell steward. Now, I think we may manage to get some—I never saw better plums on board of a ship.”
“Well,” said I, “I like raisins as well as you do, Tommy—but what is your plan?”
“Why, I’ve got my squirt: and old Culpepper never lights more than one of his purser’s dips (small candles) in the steward’s room. I’ll get down in the cockpit in the dark, and squirt at the candle—the water will put it out, and he’ll send the steward for another light, and then I’ll try and get some.”
It was not a bad plan, but still I refused to join in it, as it was only the work of one person, and not two. I pointed that out to him and he agreed with me, saying that he would do it himself.
When Mr Culpepper went down into the steward’s room, Tommy reconnoitred, and then came into the berth and filled his squirt.
Although I would not join him, I thought I might as well see what was going on and therefore descended the cockpit ladder soon after Tommy, keeping out of the way in the foremost part of the cockpit, where it was quite dark.
Tommy directed his squirt very dexterously, hit the lighted wick of the solitary candle, which fizzed, sputtered, and finally gave up the ghost.
“Bless me!” said Mr Culpepper, “what can that be?”
“A leak from the seams above I suppose,” said the steward: