“You . . . you . . . well, you annoy me, that’s what you do.”
“I know the law, sir,” Davis answered promptly. “I worked full able seaman on this here ship. All hands can testify to that. I was aloft from the start. Yes, sir, and up to my neck in salt water day and night. And you had me below trimmin’ coal. I did full duty and more, until this sickness got me—”
“You were petrified and rotten before you ever saw this ship,” Mr. Pike broke in.
“The court’ll decide that, sir,” replied the imperturbable Davis.
“And if you go to shoutin’ off your sea-lawyer mouth,” Mr. Pike continued, “I’ll jerk you out of that and show you what real work is.”
“An’ lay the owners open for lovely damages when we get in,” Davis sneered.
“Not if I bury you before we get in,” was the mate’s quick, grim retort. “And let me tell you, Davis, you ain’t the first sea-lawyer I’ve dropped over the side with a sack of coal to his feet.”
Mr. Pike turned, with a final “Damned sea-lawyer!” and started along the deck. I was walking behind him when he stopped abruptly.
“Mr. Pathurst.”
Not as an officer to a passenger did he thus address me. His tone was imperative, and I gave heed.