“Yes, sir, if. That’s it, sir, and one of these days we shall drop upon them and make them stare. We shall do it, gentlemen, you see if we shan’t.”
“That’s what we want to see, Tom,” said Murray.
“Course you do, gentlemen, and all we lads forrard are itching for it, that we are—just about half mad.”
“For prize money?” said Roberts sourly.
“Prize money, sir?” replied the man. “Why, of course, sir. It’s a Bri’sh sailor’s nature to like a bit of prize money at the end of a v’y’ge; but, begging your pardon, sir, don’t you make no mistake. There arn’t a messmate o’ mine as wouldn’t give up his prize money for the sake of overhauling a slaver and reskying a load o’ them poor black beggars. It’s horrid; that’s what it just is.”
“Quite right, May,” said Roberts.
“Thankye, sir,” said the man; “and as we was a-saying on’y last night—talking together we was as we lay out on the deck because it was too stuffycatin’ to sleep.”
“So it was, May,” said Roberts.
“Yes, sir; reg’lar stifler. Well, what we all agreed was that what we should like to do was to set the tables upside down.”
“What for?” said Murray, giving his comrade a peculiar glance from the corner of his eye.