"He says he was divorced," said the young man.
"Divorced, is it?" answered Mike. "He must have been married then, so there wouldn't be any truth in what I would be calling his lad to him if he comes along to me talking about him and his strong arm, and hinting what he would be after doing, and him thousands of miles away." His voice growled on. "Did he tell ye what he was divorced for?"
"No."
Mike's voice almost suggested that he knew himself.
"Indade, he was divorced for laziness," he said.
Jack swaggered away smiling, and the night-watchman, arriving then on the poop, came up to him, seeing he was alone.
"Are these men talking about me?" he said.
He was evidently a poor judge of character. Jack strolled slowly past and over his shoulder—"Ask them," he said.
The night watchman glared and bellowed, in the roaring voice of a bar-room bully: "I'm only asking you a simple question."
Jack stopped in his stride, looked again over his shoulder, and smiled queerly. The night-watchman thought it was a pacific smile, and stepped closer.