“Hullo, Kid!” cried Sellers, as the boat ground alongside and a filthy ruffian with a handkerchief twisted round his head clawed on with a boathook. “What’s the matter, Kid? What’s up with you? Where’s Satan?”
“Who’re you kiddin’?” cried Jude, as Sellers came aboard, followed by Cleary. “Where the hull are your fenders? Comin’ cuttin’ the paint off, you and your skullintons! Where’s Satan? He’s down below drunk as Billy be damn and cuttin’ the lights out of the ship.”
“He’s been at the eyewash I was tellin’ you of,” said Cleary. “Look, he’s broke a bottle of it. Lord! don’t the place stink?”
“Well, drunk or sober, he’s got to bail up,” said Sellers. “It’s my belief he’s been spoofin’ us all along.”
“Spoofin’ who?” cried Jude.
“Cark an’ me.”
“Cark an’ you—that old leather face an’ you! Satan been spoofin’ you—pair of yeggmen! Satan’s straight, the on’y straight man in Havana! Get off this ship! Come in the mornin’ if you want to try an’ rob him. Off with you now!”
“Why,” cried Sellers, half laughing, half angry, “what’s the matter with the kid? What’s gingerin’ you up?”
The answer came from another smashed plate below.
Jude made one spring for a deck-mop standing handy, twirled it so that the water sprayed from it in a rainbow, and brought it to the charge.