"He's a miserable, mean, measly, growling, discontented devil," said Dodman in a red heat, as he mopped his forehead. "Comes and tells me I ain't fit to stow mud in a mud-barge. Ain't it true when he was second in this same old Enchantress he stowed sugar on kerosine? And if the old swab can rig a double Spanish burton, I'll eat this belayin' pin. Our skipper's a know-nothing, sir."
"It's my duty not to listen to you," said Plump sadly. "I don't hear you, Mr. Dodman."
"Then I'd like to roar it through a speakin' trumpet," said the insubordinate second greaser. "I'd love to put it into flags, and let every ship in Portland learn the precious truth. Didn't he say it was your fault, sir, that Smith skipped out last night?"
"He did," said Plump darkly, "when he'd told the best worker in the ship that he was a soldier! Told him he was a soldier!"
With the land alongside, what could any self-respecting seaman do but go ashore after so dire an insult? They say at sea 'a messmate before a shipmate, a shipmate before a dog, and a dog before a soldier.' It was no wonder Smith skipped, and was just then roaring drunk in Lant and Gulliver's, who were the boss boarding-house masters in Portland, and bought and sold seamen as a ranchman might cattle.
And that very night Corlett came up to Jack Eales as he was going ashore, and put his hand on his shoulder. The young cockney had a grin upon him which, properly divided, would have made the whole ship's company look happy.
"That ten dollars is mine," said Corlett. "Jack, you're ten dollars short. I wouldn't part with my claim on it for nine dollars and ninety-nine cents."
"We've 'eard too many rotten dodges lately," said Eales, "to take that in. What's the news now?"
But Corlett shook his head.
"I'm for the shore with you, sonny, and I'll tell you goin' along."