“I said find it a bit strong, sir? I did at first when I went down; but, bless your ’art, sir, after the first few sniffs you don’t mind it a bit, you rather likes it.”
“Then you’d better go down, sir,” said Bob, sharply.
“Yes, sir, soon as I’m wanted, sir. I did go down before with Mr Vandean.”
“Did he go down, then?”
“Oh yes, sir. We was there ever so long. Just you go down and see, sir; it’s very interesting. Never was in the hold of a slave ship, sir, I s’pose? It’s something to talk about, I can tell you. Wonderful dark, and all you can see is the niggers’ eyes. You see, them being black, they fits in with the darkness, and as they never laughs you don’t see their teeth. I’d go if I was you.”
Bob hesitated. It would never do for him to show the white feather before the man, and if he did not go Mark Vandean was taking all the credit. Tom Fillot was right, it would be something to talk about, and after another moment’s hesitation, he turned to the sailor.
“I say, Tom Fillot,” he whispered, “is it very bad?”
“What, down there, sir?”
“Yes; I mean can a fellow bear it?”
“Bear it, sir? Oh yes, if it comes to that; you see, Mr Vandean and me bore it ever so long. You’d stand it, I should say. Oh yes, you’ve got so much pluck in you, sir, you’d stand it right enough. There, sir, if I was you I’d go. You could but come up again.”