No, discharged—when he gets out. He’s been to India twice—it is hard—if he comes next week—or in two weeks—or tomorrow, I don’t know when—I’ll have him to feed, too—although—I must say it of him, he won’t let the grass grow under his feet—A giant like him can always find a skipper.
Bos.
A sweet beast—I tell you right now, Kneir, I’d rather not take him—dissatisfied scoundrels are plenty enough these days—All that come from the Navy, I’m damned if it isn’t so—are unruly and I have no use for that kind—Am I not right?
Kneir.
Certainly, Meneer, but my boy——
Bos.
There was Jacob—crooked Jacob, the skipper had to discharge him. He was, God save him, dissatisfied with everything—claimed that I cheated at the count—yes—yes—insane. Now he’s trying it at Maassluis. We don’t stand for any nonsense.
Kneir.
May I send him to the skipper then—or direct to the water bailiff’s office?
Bos.