"Oh, you understand all right."
Scholar's eyelids came slightly together. He wished he knew how to act in this society, found himself squaring his chest a little, found that his jaw was tightening. At this juncture Mike appeared on deck, hitched his belt, came rolling along towards them, drew up alongside and yawned loudly, stretching himself, raising his elbows in the air, and clasping his hands behind his head. Then, leaning forward between the two catechists, he spat out into the flying scud, turned his big back on them, hitched his belt again, and said to Scholar: "Bejabbers, it's cold! Let's have a quarter-deck walk, Scholar."
Scholar fell in step with him. At the end of their walk, when they turned, he was aware, without looking too keenly, that the two men of inquisitorial mind were feeling highly vindictive; but the end of their return walk bringing them again close to these two, Mike took a brief farther step to the taffrail, swinging back largely.
"What was them two saying to you?" he asked, as they walked forward once more.
"Oh, just asking questions about where I had been, and all that sort of thing."
Mike gave a "Huh!" of disgust. They wheeled, and began the return balancing walk to the poop just in time to see "them two" going down the companion-way. Mike brought up against the taffrail at the end of their march this time, and leaning back on it, said he: "I tell you what it is, Scholar. Them fellers think they're better than us cattlemen. They're tradesmen. I've seen enough—I don't need to listen to all they're saying, after what you tell me. They're tradesmen; indade, I expect they're ruddy plumbers. They've spotted you, you see. They're thinking to themselves: 'Here's a fellow on board here, and in the Ould Counthry we'd be putting gas pipes in his father's house, and he's down now, and we'll kick him.' Just the same way they would try to kick us too, if they didn't think we was down already, beyant the likes of them to kick," he added in a grim tone, "if they didn't know that we knew how to fix them. If they come prying at ye again, Scholar—listen now to what I'm tellin' ye: Turn yourself around sideways to them, and says you to them, says you: 'Ask me elbow!' says you. And if they shoves their face up against you, says you: 'I'll spit in your eye if you shove your face at me like that!' And hit, Scholar, hit! It's different with the likes of us. You came in among us like a man; anybody could see you wasn't accustomed to us. Now you know what I mean—you understand?" said Mike, for he felt there was more in his mind than he could express. "I would rather go on a boat with you, Scholar, than with thim, if it was a case of taking to the boats; and if it was a row on the waterfronts I'd rather have you with your back to the wall with me than them plumbers. You was born different, and you don't understand thim—ye see what I mane," and he waved his hand. "But you would niver roll a shipmate; and if it came to the bit, I can see it in your eye, Scholar, you'd hang on like a bulldog."
Scholar felt a great friendliness in his heart to this man, though he feared he could not quickly learn the lesson, and would have to think out some method of his own. The "spit in your eye" method of address was foreign to him as yet. Mike had been shouting towards the end, for the wind was rising; but now he paused a spell, and his gaze roved round the night and its stars. He drew a deep breath and returned to matters mundane.
"That watchman will have to keep his eyes open to-night," he said. "He's another of them." He frowned, looking along the decks forward. "I wonder if that feller wi' the big hat is along there yet—like a dead burrd in a nest. He's blamed unsociable, that feller in the big hat," he commented. And then: "Oh, I don't blame him if he wants to be that way."
"Perhaps he's afraid of being asked questions," suggested Scholar, laughing.
"Him! No, it's different with him. I said: 'Good evening mate,' to him the other night there, and he pays no attintion. And I looks at him, and he gives me the look—you know what I mane; so I says to him, says I: 'All right, shipmate,' I says. 'All right, if that's the way of it. I know now, anyhow,' says I to him, says I. He's a great lad, ye know. I was hearing about a bit of a spar him and the cook had." He considered the darkened deck. "Yes, he could fix them two plumbers all right that was asking you questions."