"What for?"
The general conversation subsided so that they might listen to this one.
"To keep them friendly. You may throw your arm out of your bunk in your sleep, and if ye're always disturbing the rats they'll lay on to your hand then. But if you pay no attention to them at any time they'll understand it was an accident."
One or two laughed derisively, but they were quickly silenced by others who wagged knowing heads. Michael, thus backed, proceeded to cite cases.
"When I was on the steamship A-Chiles the rats used to come up every meal time and form up behind us clean round the table." There was a laugh. "I'm tellin' ye!" said Michael. "There's no use of me going further if ye don't believe the first of it."
"What else, then?" asked the Inquisitive One. But he was beneath Michael's notice, for Michael wore a blind on his eye and was proud of it by now.
"What was the rest?" said Mike.
"I was going to tell them," answered Michael, "but I suppose they won't believe me, that the table was short for the number of rats, and they formed up behind us——" he waved a hand behind him as if there were rats there now—"four deep."
There was another laugh, but Mike did not join in. He was staring into a corner, for something there had arrested his gaze. He turned to those near him. He thought he had got used to the freaks on board, but evidently not.
"Can any of youse tell me," he asked quietly, "what's the German Emperor doing on board?"