"Yah!" jeered the first gunsel.
Cockney gave that horrible jump that made his wide pants flap round his thin shanks. He had always to take people by surprise, so as to have any chance at all. Now he bowled the boy over with a flat blow on the cheek; and, not long since a gunsel himself, and very little patient with them, he leapt at the other two who were standing together waiting to see the fun, and crashed their foreheads together. There seemed less sympathy with them this morning. Harry, the crazy fellow, sat up with tousled hair and gibbered profanity at Rafferty, but Rafferty was nearly as crazy as he.
"Well, you're a grown man!" said he. "Take that!" and with a mighty quick action he flung his hand outside the cabin door, grabbed thence a pitchfork that he had left there on entering, and thrust at Harry with it. Harry put up his hand to protect himself, and the prong jabbed. He rolled over to get out of his bunk upon the other side, being in one of those amidships. The prong jabbed again—with a certain care this time, so that it was possibly not much worse than a pin-prick. He jumped in the way that some pedestrians jump from mad motorists, catching himself behind, and the men gave little laughing grunts.
"Come on, come on!" several growled, and the lower deck squad filed out, Cockney pushing his face close to the faces, one after the other, of the three weasely ones, who might be anything from sixteen to twenty-five. They seemed to understand that, and went quietly forward.
CHAPTER X
Mike had long since sobered, and was now getting better of the dry-mouth and dry-tongue feeling that had followed his drunkenness. He leant with folded arms upon the poop rail and observed how, in the estuary, where the shores rapidly receded one from the other, the lightships were all booming. A ball of steam rose from each, and anon came the shriek. There was something unreal about the whole view. Kind sunlight was upon the deck of the Glory. The precipitous bank, the higher south bank, could be seen clearly, rolling up shining, dew-wet, a glistening green; and yet the sirens kept calling. Suddenly there showed up, some distance off, two pieces of stick, erect, a short and a long one, and then a low mist rolled aside, and the two pieces of stick were disclosed as the mast tops of a schooner. Mike looked at the last lightship, and noticed how only its top was visible. The mist lay low, and in banks. Not for great steamers, like the Glory, standing high, did the sirens roar, but for the little sailing vessels and coasters under the haze. And now, day advancing, that haze began to disappear. Looking over the side he saw the green water quite clear, and something was swimming in it. Elbows on the taffrail, he glanced over his shoulder to see if there was anybody near him who would be interested, but there were only some of the "youse" about, who might reply, if he pointed out to them this otter, that so pleased him: "Well, what about it?"
The "youse" behind him broke out suddenly with: "Got any tobacco, Frenchy?"
"Feenish!" came Frenchy's voice, and Pierre strolled past. He too looked over the side, and Mike glanced at him.
"Otter, Pierre," he said. "You savvy otter?"