"As you all know, my mates," continued the carpenter, "things ain't as they ought to be on board this old craft; she is much too slow for the times. When a coat becomes too old to wear, what do we do? why, chuck it away."
The jolly little cook now had his say. "Without a doubt the old ship is too bluff bowed for the rapid times we live in, and is more fit to drive piles than to make way against the swift current of events. So, my lads, I am for seizing the ship, and my little game—"
"What is that?" cried the butcher, as he laid his trembling hand upon the carpenter's arm.
"What is what?" exclaimed the carpenter, slightly startled. "Can't you give Pepper time to explain himself. Hurry no man's cattle, is an old and good proverb."
"I heard a noise outside, as if someone was moving," said the butcher.
"Then take a look round, Billy," said the carpenter.
"I am too big," said the butcher, with a sneer, which was felt, though on account of the darkness it was not seen. "Let Pepper go; he is the smallest; no one will see him, and if they do they will take no notice." This was veiled sarcasm, but the cook thought it better not to notice it, because he knew the butcher could not help it.
"Let every man stick to his trade," said the cook, "my place is inside the galley and not out."
Then up spoke the doughty carpenter. "What, my lads! is quaking fear going to be present at our councils? Look at me. I am not afraid." As it was pitch dark, of course nobody could see. "Chisel, my lad," he said, addressing his mate, "show these fellows the stuff you are made of."
"And why should I do what others won't?" replied Chisel. "It is no more my business than it is the cook's, and every man to his trade, say I, too."