"I say," he continued after swallowing a smoking tumblerful of the champagne. "I say, Dolphin, mum's the stuff I'm drinking, ain't it?"
"It is, sir."
"Waal, mum's the word you've got to remember when talking to any new hand, else----"
The rest of the sentence was hissed into the steward's ear, and the little man turned a shade paler.
There was some sort of mystery and horror about this ship that crept coldly round our Kep's heart. He had half a mind to ask to be put on shore, but that would have been cowardly. He did not even like the barque's name--Macbeth. There was something ominous about it, and the word rhymes with death.
"You are to be told off to do all sorts of odd jobs," said Dolphin, soon after this, "but I think you'll be principally the Capitan's servant and interpreter."
"I'll be glad to be busy," said Kep.
The anchor was got up, and sail set, and with much noise, and terrible shouting. Then she slid away towards the open sea, but the first watch had well begun before the cargo, heavy barrels and boxes, was stowed away even temporarily. Should it come on to blow a bit during the night this cargo would shift, and there would be more noise than ever.
Adolphus and Kep had a wretched little state-room next to the pantry. Hardly six feet square was it, with a ventilator in the door and one scuttle which could only be carried open in calm weather.
There was the evil odour of cockroaches here too, and as soon as the light was put out they rustled and ran all over the beds in a way which was not at all pleasant for our hero.