"Yes, sir," said the sea-soldier, exhibiting a rapidly swelling cheek.
"What have you to say?" the First Lieutenant asked the alleged assailant.
"What he says isn't true, sir. I did say he had been cheatin', becos he had, becos he was movin' all his other pieces over the board how he liked. I says he mustn't do that, becos it isn't the game, but he says that as he's been told off to play, he'll play how he bloomin' well likes. I says it's cheatin', and he hits me on the nose, so I hits him back, and we has a bit of a dust up." He exhibited a gory handkerchief as proof of his injuries.
"Do either of you men bear any grudge against the other?" asked Pardoe, knowing that they had often been ashore together.
"No, sir," came the immediate reply.
"Well, go away, and don't make such fools of yourselves again. We can't have all this bickering and fighting over a simple game of draughts."
The two combatants retired grinning, and Pardoe, sighing deeply, walked up and down the deck wrapped in thought. One fact was quite patent, and that was that if the innocent amusements for the ship's company were suffered to continue, he would require the wisdom and patience of a Solomon to arbitrate between the disputants.
On Tuesday they had a reading from Shakespeare, conducted by the Captain, and, to judge from the sotto-voce remarks of the audience, they were neither amused nor instructed.
"'E must be wet if 'e thinks we liken listenin' to this 'ere stuff!" muttered Able Seaman McSweeny dismally. "'E talks abart 'is ruddy merchant o' Venice, but I doesn't want to 'ear nothin' abart a…. Eyetalian shopkeeper. I expec's 'e was one o' these 'ere blokes wot wheeled an ice-cream barrer. S'welp me I do!"
A loud titter greeted his utterance, and Commander Potvin stopped reading for a moment, and glanced round with a fierce expression, without being able to see whence the sounds of merriment emanated.