“Yes,” I said.
“Tay for two, ye spalpeen!” he thereupon roared out a second time; “an’ ye’d betther look sharp, too, d’ye hear?”
The answer to this was a tremendous smash from the pantry, and the sound of things clattering about and rolling on the floor, as if all the crockery in the ship was broken, whereat Tim and the second mate and Matthews burst altogether into one simultaneous shout of laughter.
“Tare an’ ’ouns, he’s at it ag’in!” cried the boatswain when he was able to speak; “he’s at it ag’in!”
“Aye, he’s at it again. A rum chap, ain’t he?” said Mr Saunders.
“It’s ownly his nasty timper, though; an’ he vints it on them poor harmless things bekase he’s too much av a coward to have it out wid them that angers him,” replied Tim Rooney, adding, as another crash resounded from the distance: “Jist he’r him now. Bedad he’s havin’ a foine fling this toime, an’ no misthake at all, at all!”
“What is he doing?” I asked, seeing that the boatswain and the other two took the uproar as a matter of course, and were in no way surprised at it. “Is he breaking things?”
“No, ma bouchal,” replied Tim carelessly. “He’s ownly kickin’ presarved mate tins about the flure av his panthry, which he kapes especial fur such toimes as he’s in a rage wid anyone as offinds him, whin, instead av standin’ up loike a man an’ foightin’ it out wid the chap that angers him, he goes and locks himsilf in the panthry an’ kicks the harmless ould tins about, an’ bangs ’em ag’in the bulkhead at the side, till ye’d think he was smashin’ the howl ship!”
“What a funny man!” I exclaimed.
“He’s all that,” said the boatswain sententiously. “An’ the strangest thing av all is, that whin he’s done kickin’ the tins about an’ has vinted his passion, he’ll come out av his panthry as cool an’ calm as a Christian, an’ do jist what ye wants him, as swately as if he’d nivir bin in a timper at all, at all. Jist watch him now.”