“Then don’t you laugh at me when I ask you questions. Every one isn’t so precious clever as you are; and look here, Watty Links, if you dare to grin at me I’ll punch your head. Now then, Andy, what is it?”
“Dinna ca’ me Andy, my laddie, and she’ll tell ye. My name’s Andra.”
“Very well then, Andra. What’s the tub for?”
“The craw’s-nest.”
“Bah!” exclaimed Steve; and he walked forward to where the stout red-faced sailor who had pulled him aboard from the wharf was busy applying grease to the fore-mast.
“What’s that cask for, Hamish?”
“Yon, sir? For the crows,” said the man, grinning.
“What! do we shoot crows and salt them down in that tub?”
“Oh no, sir. They shoots themselves up through the bottom.”
Steve stood staring at the man for a moment, and then turned away impatiently.