Further conversation between the friends was interrupted at this point by the inrushing of Toozle, followed up by Poopy, and, a short time after, by Mr Mason, who took Alice away with him, and left poor Corrie disconsolate.
While this was going on, John Bumpus was fulfilling his mission to Ole Thorwald.
He found that obstinate individual in his own parlour, deep in the investigation of the state of his books of business, which had been allowed to fall into arrear during his absence.
“Come in, Bumpus. So I hear you were half-hanged when we were away.”
Ole wheeled round on his stool and hooked his thumbs into the arm-holes of his vest as he said this, leaned his back against his desk, and regarded the seaman with a facetious look.
“Half-hanged, indeed,” said Bumpus, indignantly. “I was more than half—three-quarters at least. Why, the worst of it’s over w’en the rope’s round your neck.”
“That is a matter which you can’t speak to, John Bumpus, seeing that you’ve never gone beyond the putting of the rope round your neck.”
“Well, I’m content with wot I does happen to know about it,” remarked Jo, making a wry face; “an’ I hope that I’ll never git the chance of knowin’ more. But I comed here on business, Mr Thorwald,” (here John became mysterious and put his finger to his lips.) “I’ve comed here, Mr Thorwald, to—split.”
As Ole did not quite understand the meaning of this word, and did not believe that the seaman actually meant to rend himself from head to foot, he said— “Why, Bumpus, what d’ye mean?”
“I mean as how that I’ve comed to split on my comrades—w’ich means, I’m goin’ to tell upon ’em.”