“Ah, that he is, sir; and if he isn’t hatching out something row to surprise you all, I don’t know mutton from beef.”
I looked sharply at the cook, for his words chimed in with a kind of fancy I had that the people in the forecastle were not so silent for nothing.
“Ah, well,” I said, “I dare say we shall be ready for him if he does try to play any pranks. But you didn’t tell me about Mr Walters.”
The cook gave a sharp glance round.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
“I don’t seem to like to talk about him, sir,” he whispered. “He never forgets anything, and never forgives anybody. I wouldn’t say a word against him for worlds.”
“I don’t ask you to,” I said; “I only asked you why Mr Walters was shut up in the cable-tier?”
“Jarette don’t like him, sir. He found him very useful for stealing pistols and cartridges, and fastening people in the cabins, but once he got all he wanted, though he made a fuss with him and encouraged him to strut about, and called him his lieutenant, he used to be always looking at him ugly-like, and I got to think that before long there would be a row.”
“And there was?”
“Oh yes, sir, a terrible row. You see Mr Walters couldn’t forget that he had been an officer, and Jarette couldn’t forget he had been a fore-mast man, and feel jealous of Mr Walters, who used to make-believe amongst the men that he was the real captain of the ship, and that everything depended upon him. So at last there was a terrible row about something in the navigation, and Mr Walters told Jarette that he didn’t know anything about it. Then the Frenchman hit him, kind of boxed his ears, and Mr Walters whips out a pistol. That was enough. Jarette whistled up the men, who none of ’em liked Mr Walters, and before he knew where he was, they had him on his back with his pistol gone and him helpless. He made a bit of a fuss, and threatened to have Jarette punished if he did not give it up, and then the skipper pointed the pistol at him, and told the men who were holding Mr Walters down to hang back as far as they could while he shot the prisoner. That was enough. The poor boy began to holloa out and beg for mercy, and Jarette set to and teased him, sir, horribly.