"Oh, no, suh; not in de beginnin', suh."
"Wasn't there trouble with the deck passengers?"
"Yassuh, at fus'; at fus', yassuh; wid dem and dey young leadeh. Y'see, dey be'n so long aboa'd ship dey plumb stahve fo' gyahden-sass an' 'count o' de sickness de docto' won't 'low 'em on'y some sawts. But back yondeh on sho' dey's some wile mulbe'y trees hangin' low wid green mulbe'ys, an' comin' away f'om de grave dey make a break fo' 'em. But de mate he head' 'em off. An' whilse de leadeh he a-jawin' at de mate on sho', an' likewise at de clerk on de b'ileh deck an' at the cap'm on de roof——"
"In a foreign tongue," prompted the bishop, to whom that seemed the kernel of the offence.
"Yassuh, I reckon so; in a fond tongue; yassuh."
"About his sick not having proper food?" asked Ramsey.
"Yass'm—no'm—yass'm! An' whilse he a-jawin', some o' de crew think dey see a chance fo' to slip into de bresh an' leave de boat. An' when de mate whip' out his 'evolveh on 'em, an' one draw a knife on him, an' he make a dash fo' dat one, he—dat deckhan'—run aboa'd so fas' dat he ain't see whah he gwine tell it's too la-ate."
The bishop tightened his lips at Hugh and peered at the cabin-boy: "How was it too late?"
"De deckhan' he run ove'boa'd, suh."
The ladies flinched, the men frowned. "But," said the querist, "meantime the mate had fired, hmm? Did he—hit?"