“‘Throw him overboard,’ cried the lieutenant.
“‘No, no,’ said the captain. ‘That will never do, Mr Jones. The poor cat is welcome to his bite and sup as long as he likes to stop with us, whoever brought him on board.’
“Then a man in the ranks saluted.
“‘Did you want to say anything?’ said Captain Beecroft.
“‘Well, sir,’ said the man, ‘I wouldn’t like any of my pals to be blamed for a-bringing of Tom from shore, ’cause I did, and you may flog me if you like.’
“‘No, no, my man, instead of flogging you I’ll forgive you. I like my men to be bold and outspoken just as you are.’
“And from that day to this, three long years, Shireen, I’ve been ship’s cat to the saucy Venom, and, what is more, I like it.
“Now, if you please, I’ll take you forward, and you can see the men’s quarters.”
“What are those three trees growing on the lid of the ship for, Tom?” I asked.
“Those are not trees, Shireen,” he answered; “those are what they call ship’s masts, and you must not say the lid of the ship, but the deck.”