“Of that I have no doubt,” he sneered, and walked out up the hatchway. “I will tell the Captain,” he called back, as he climbed down the rope ladder and on to the now sunlit wall.
He walked along, talking to himself in a whisper. Now and again he paused and made as though to go back. Then he recovered himself and went on, still muttering. Finally he shrugged his shoulders.
“Well, it won’t be the first time rum has bought a fair lass, anyway,” he said aloud, “and it ain’t a right thing in a man to go against old habits.”
And lifting his head he began to whistle blithely.
CHAPTER XII
IT WAS seven o’clock on the following Wednesday evening and there was an air of expectation in the Ship’s kitchen.
The Coldlight was due to sail under a new name at the late tide.
Anny was upstairs preparing herself for Dick’s coming, while in the room below the talk ran high and many conjectures as to the Captain’s intentions were put forward and withdrawn as the company drank round the fire.
“Osh, where’s the man as can withstand a pretty lass?” said Gilbot, smiling and hiccoughing over his sack.
“Ah, maybe, maybe, but ’tis a wonderful risky thing, this changing names o’ crafts,” put in Granger, wagging his head. “I don’t hold with it myself.”