"Aye, he has a hang-dog look about him that I never liked," replied the latter. "He seems to be always down by the head, somehow. We should have left him in his skiff, just as we found him, like a bear adrift on a grating, or a pig in a washing-tub."
On another occasion he injured Will White, one of the crew, by letting the topmaul fall from the foretop, where it usually lay, for driving home the fid of the mast.
His dreams again became a source of annoyance to all in the forecastle bunks; and on being closely and severely questioned by Captain Weston and the men, as to whether he had ever killed any one, by accident or otherwise, after being long badgered, he half drew his ugly knife from its shark-skin sheath, and replied, sullenly,—
"Only a Chinaman or so, when in California."
"Well, I wish you would clap a stopper on your mouth when you go to sleep, or turn in out of ear-shot in a topgallant studding sail,—as far off as you choose, and the further off the better," said old Roberts, sulkily, after the ravings of the Cubano had kept him awake for several nights.
"You seem to dream a great deal, Antonio," said Weston, with a keen glance, beneath which the Spaniard quailed.
"Si, Senor Capitano," he stammered.
"How is this?"
"I am very fond of dreams," he replied, with a bitter smile on his lip and a scowl in his dark eye.
"Have you pleasant ones?"