“Of course. She’s my right bower when it comes to good advice. Not that she is personally interested—I was just dreamin’ dreams, you understand—but if I had the farm maybe I could see her again and talk about pigs and hens, and gardens and flowers.”
“You are not as down-hearted as when ye were on the key, Johnny,” smilingly quoth Captain O’Shea.
“It’s the clothes and the refined surroundin’s, Cap’n Mike. I take to ’em somehow more than I ever did before. I seem sort of changed.”
“’Tis likely a first-class marine engineer will be spoiled to make a lubber of a farmer,” returned O’Shea.
“It’s a rough life we lead, Cap’n Mike, and a man of my age hadn’t ought to stick to it too long.”
Jack Gorham joined them, looking even leaner and sadder than when he had been in the Fearless.
“And what will you be doing with yourself?” cordially inquired O’Shea.
“Mr. Van Steen offers me an easy job in New York, sir, and a salary, whether I work or not. But I’m on nobody’s pension-roll. I shall get out of Jamaica in a sail-boat and sneak over to Cuba and join the rebels.”
“And will big Jiminez go with ye?”
“He is sort of tore up in his mind, sir, between following you on the chance of another fancy voyage and duckin’ into the jungle with me.”