'Cut the painter.'
'What painter?'
'Hopped the twig, as they say in the dear old New Cut where I was born. Deserted, Ephraim.'
'Never!' Meek ejaculated. 'What for would he desert in a land of cannibals?'
'What do men desert for? Anything--nothing! You mind that time Ben Scruddles hooked it at Noo York? What for?'
'Well, 'twas a long time ago, and I don't rightly remember, but I 'd say 'twas because Ben didn't like the skipper's red hair.'
'Might 'a been part of it, but the main thing was that Ben was just tired--tired o' the skipper, tired o' reg'lar hours and ever-lasting dooty, tired of every blessed thing--like a horse as jibs and swears he won't pull the blessed cart another blessed inch. Anything for a change. I lay my life the Dutchman got it bad, and fancied a change. Cannibals is nothing when you feel like that; I 've felt like it myself.'
They had lagged while talking, and Hoole, looking over his shoulder, called:
'Now, men, keep up! We don't want to lose you. The moon 's going down.'
'Ay, ay, sir!' replied Grinson, in his usual bellow. 'Ephraim was talking, and he never could do two things at wunst.'