"Dangerous, rats!" Ericksen snorted. "On his uppers, he is. Ran foul o' law-sharks an' got laid on his beam-ends. He's suspicious; that's all. He and the lady are goin' to get spliced, see? Or they think they are. His name's Dennis. He means to go West with us."
The sleepy eyes of Dumont suddenly opened. They became very black and flashing. His white teeth showed beneath his tiny moustache in a smile.
"Oh, I see! It is in that direction the land lies! Well, let him come. Let our so-wonderful skipper take care of him!"
Ericksen shook his head. "Nope. Skipper says: 'Boatswain, don't you bring no barnacles along! Bring that young lady—and no barnacles.' Skipper knowed what he was about; strike me blind if he didn't! So Mr. Dennis he stays here."
Dumont regarded his companion with an admiring air.
"Ah, you have the head, my friend! You have not the looks, perhaps, but the head——"
"What's the matter with my looks, Frenchy?" demanded Ericksen suddenly, regarding the smaller man with steady eyes. "Come, now! Step aft an' speak it out, you! What's the matter with 'em?"
"Nothing in particular—merely the general aspect." And Dumont cocked his head on one side in pretended survey. Then he broke into laughter. "Drôle! You cannot afford to fight with me, eh? No. And you know better. Eh? I have always desired, my friend, to get my finger in that left eye of yours; it looks so devilish! I always wondered how the socket would look—if there were not a little devil sitting there, couchant!"
Ericksen changed countenance suddenly, and sat back in his seat. Behind those jesting words of Dumont's there lay a grotesque speculation—an earnestness, even! The dapper little man assumed a frightful air, an air of abnormality. One sensed that he spoke of tearing out a man's eye with calm enjoyment, as though—as though he had done it before this.
"You're right, hearty," said Ericksen, wetting his lips. "Right-o! No trouble in the after cabin, and there'll be none forward. What were we speakin' of? Oh, yes! Dennis. Well, you go and occupy that room to-night, and do your business to-morrow morning, then go back there. Dennis will mess with me an' the lady to-morrow noon, see? You get me a scrap of his fist—or better, take a squint at it and copy this here entry in the log."