Captain Black watched his anger with a pitying leer; but "Dick the Ranter" and "Four-Eyes" were overcome with laughter, and roared until the ship echoed.
"Houly Moses, it's a fine picture ye are, my beauty," said the mate; "and if oi'll be scraping ye down with a shovel, it's yer own fayther wouldn't know ye, so clane ye'll be."
"To the which I would add, man," said Dick, "that if ye'd let yersel' drip into the lubricators you'd be worth siller to us; not to say onything o' the discoorse I micht verra weel preach on Satan from yer present appearance."
The banter turned the man from his more meaning purpose. He stood gibbering for a moment, while the crowd pressed on him with gibes and jeers; but he had his revenge, after all, for there was a tar-bucket at the foot of the upper-deck ladder, and with this he armed himself. The brush was well-charged and dripping, the tar yet liquid, the Scotsman's face was all-inviting. With a fierce shout the enraged man went to the attack, and painted his lantern-jawed opponent merrily. In less time than I can tell of it, the Ranter dripped from head to foot; the black stuff poured from his hemp-like hair, from his ears; it oozed down his neck, it even ran through to his boots; and when his enemy could no longer wield the brush from fatigue, he emptied the bucket on the man's head as a last triumphant vindication of his strength.
"Now we're a pair!" he said, pausing for breath, and surveying his work as an artist surveys a finished picture; "and I guess you ain't going to take the biscuit in this beauty show."
"Man, I could hae weel dispensed wi't," spluttered the Scotsman; "but I thank ye for dyeing my breeks. They've been wanting colour since New Year."
The laughter had not yet died away when the men went to their cabins, and we posted the watches before turning in. We were at that time in Lat. 65° N. at a rough calculation, and we passed the Danish settlement of Godthaab early on the next morning, though so far out at sea that I could make nothing of it; while we lost the coast of Greenland altogether before the day had passed, a hazy shower of dust-like snow greeting our coming to the Atlantic and to a perceptibly warmer latitude. During this day, and until we sighted the Shetlands, the small screw tender kept our course, and we exchanged signals with her every morning, her purpose being explained to me by "Four-Eyes," on the fourth morning out, in his child-like phraseology.
"Faith, she's Liverpool bound, and we'll pick her up again south of the Scilly when she's tidings of ships out. Bedad, sir, there's fine times coming; what wi' the say full av big ones, and we one agen 'em, I'm like to believe as we'll step ashore with our throats cut, ivery man av us, and on the shore av me own counthry, which sorra a day I left for this job."
"Why did you leave it, 'Four-Eyes'?" I asked cheerfully; and he said—
"'Twas this way, sorr, but it's a long yarn, and ye don't nade more than the p'ints av it. When I was priest's bhoy in Tipperary, me and Mike Sullivan had atween us what you gents call a vendeny, and coming out av church—'twas Sunday mornin' five year ago—I met Mike, an' he puts coals av fire on me head. 'Begorra,' says I, 'it's lucky for ye I'm in the grace, but plase God I'll not be to-morrow;' but the spalpeen went to Cork next day, and it wasn't till a year that I run agen him, prepared to do my dooty."