“You don’t think he’s deserted? Is that your meaning?”
“Well, I wouldn’t a trusted him to be my interpreter,” Tucket answered, with the growl of one whose superior wisdom, now proved, is proved too late. “We could a give you Thomas Gandy. He’d have done as good. He knows Spanish just like a book, Tom do. And you could a trusted Tom with your life. Now you ain’t on too good terms with the Mr. Stukeley feller.”
“Shall I go into the town, then? To see if anything’s wrong?”
“Why, no, sir. That’s putting your joint in the fire to hot your soup. Stay here, sir.”
“Well, we’ll wait a little longer. What d’you say to bathing?”
“It’s not really safe, sir. There’s cat-fish on this coast. Besides, we better not get all over the place like shifting backstays. Them Dagoes might come some of their monkey-tricks.”
“The town is quiet enough.”
“Siesta time,” said one of the men. “They likes a doss in the afternoon.”
“I dunno what to think,” Tucket said. “But ’t’ain’t too wholesome, to my mind.”
“He said he might be kept for dinner.”