“How is Mr. Jermyn keeping?” he asked. “Is that cough of his better?” This made me feel that probably the man knew Mr. Jermyn. “Yes,” I said. “He's got no cough, now.” “He'd a bad one last time he was here,” the man answered. For a while he kept silent. He seemed to me to be puzzling out the relative heights of our masts. Suddenly he turned to me, with a very natural air. “How's Mr. Scott's business going?” he asked. “You know, eh? You know what I mean?” I was taken off my guard. I'm afraid I hesitated, though I knew that the man's sharp eyes noted every little change on my face. Then, in the most natural way, the man reassured me. “You know,” he said. “What demand for oranges in London?” I was thankful that he had not meant the other business. I said with a good deal too much of eagerness that there was, I believed, a big demand for oranges. “Yes,” he said, “I suppose so many young boys makes a brisk demand.” I was uneasy at the man's manner. He seemed to be pumping me, but he had such a natural easy way, under the pale mask of his face, that I could not be sure if he were in the secret or not. I was on my guard now, ready for any question, as I thought, but eager for an excuse to get away from this man before I betrayed any trust. “Nice ship,” he said easily. “Did you join her in Spain?” “No,” I answered. “In London.” “In London?” he said. “I thought you'd something of a Spanish look.” “No,” I said. “I'm English. Did you want the carpenter, sir?”
“Yes,” he answered. “I do. But no hurry. No hurry, lad.” Here he pulled out a watch, which he wound up, staring vacantly about the decks as he did so. “Tell me, boy,” he said gently. “Is Lane come over with you?” To tell the truth, it flashed across my mind, when he pulled out his watch, that he was making me unready for a difficult question. I was not a very bright boy; but I had this sudden prompting or instinct, which set me on my guard. No one is more difficult to pump than a boy who is ready for his questioner, so I stared at him. “Lane?” I said, “Lane? Do you mean the bo'sun?”
“No,” he said. “The Colonel. You know? Eh?”
“No.” I said. “I don't know.”
“Oh well,” he answered. “It's all one. I suppose he's not come over.” At this moment the mate came on deck with the carpenter, carrying a model ship which they had been making together in their spare time. They nodded to the stranger, who gave them a curt “How do?” as though they had parted from him only the night before. The mate growled at me for wasting time on deck when I should be at work. He sent me down to my usual job of getting the cabin ready for the breakfast of the gentlemen. As I passed down the hatchway, I heard the carpenter say to the stranger, “Well. So what's the news with Jack?” It flashed into my mind that this man might be his friend, the “Longshore Jack” who was to keep an eye upon me as well as upon Mr. Jermyn. It gave me a most horrid qualm to think this. The man was so sly, so calm, so guarded, that the thought of him being on the look-out for me, to sell me to the Dutch captains, almost scared me out of my wits. The mate brought him to the cabin as I was laying the table. “This is the cabin,” he was saying, “where the gentlemen messes. That's our stern-chaser, the gun there.”
“Oh,” said the stranger, looking about him like one who has never seen a ship before. “But where do they sleep? Do they sleep on the sofa (he meant the lockers), there?”
“Why, no,” said the mate. “They sleep in the little cabins yonder. But we musn't stay down here now. I'm not supposed to use this cabin. I mustn't let the captain see me.” So they went on deck again, leaving me alone. When the gentlemen came in to breakfast, I had to go on deck for the dishes. As I passed to the galley, I noticed the stranger talking to the carpenter by the main-rigging. They gave me a meaning look, which I did not at all relish. Then, as I stood in the galley, while the cook dished up, I noticed that the stranger raised his hand to a tall, lanky, ill-favoured man who was loafing about on the wharf, carrying a large black package. This man came right up to the edge of the wharf, directly he saw the stranger's signal. It made me uneasy somehow. I was in a thoroughly anxious mood, longing to confide in some one, even in the crusty cook, yet fearing to open my mouth to any one, even to Mr. Jermyn, to whom I dared not speak with the captain present in the room. Well, I had my work to do, so I kept my thoughts to myself. I took the dishes down below to the cabin, where, after removing the covers, I waited on the gentlemen.
“Martin,” said Mr. Jermyn. “This skylight over our heads makes rather a draught. We can't have it open in the morning for breakfast.
“Did you open it?” the captain asked. “What made you open it?”
“Please, sir, I didn't open it.”