“Put them down, you fool,” growled Mr. Batters.
Luke put them down, and departed, not looking exactly pretty. When he had gone, pushing the door to I stood with my back against it. The Great Joss and I exchanged glances. He spoke first.
“You’ve a queer way of doing things.”
“I have. Of which fact your presence here is an illustration.”
“I’ve not shipped as one of your crew. I’m a passenger.”
“At present. Whether you continue to be so depends on one or two things. One is that you behave. You come from a place where there are some queer customs.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“What I say.” He winced in a fashion I did not understand, causing me to surmise that the customs in question might be even queerer than I supposed. “The first time, Mr. Batters, you show disrespect for any orders I may give, or wishes I may express, the ship goes round—you go back. I fancy your friends will be glad to receive you back among them.”
He glared at me with his one eye in a manner I did not altogether relish. There was an uncanniness about his looks, his ways, his every movement. As he confronted me, squatted on the floor, he was the most repulsive-looking object I had ever seen. It was hard to believe that such a creature could be human. And English! The sight of him filled me with a sense of nausea. I hastened to go on.
“There is another point on which your continuance as a passenger depends. What do you propose to pay for your passage?”