"I don't know," said Dick, half inclined to resent this open scorn.
"Who is Tagg, anyhow?"
Stump instantly became silent. He seemed to remember his "sailing orders." He muttered something about "playin' me for a sucker," and shut his lips obstinately. Not another word did he utter until they reached Dover. He smoked furiously, gave Royson many a wrathful glance, but bottled up the tumultuous thoughts which troubled him. On board the steamer, however, curiosity conquered prudence. After surveying Dick's unusual proportions from several points of view, he came up and spoke in what he intended to be a light comedy tone.
"I say, Mr. Second Mate," he said, "I don't see the Plimsoll Mark on the funnel. Do you?"
"No, captain. I expect it has been washed off."
"If I was you I'd write to the Board of Trade about it."
"Best let sleeping dogs lie, captain."
"Why?"
"Because they might look for yours, and as it ought to be round your neck they would say you were unseaworthy."
"So you know what it is, you long swab?"
"Yes. Come and have a drink. That will reach your load-line all right."