“Couldn’t have done. Couldn’t have jumped from a whale’s back to a ship. A ship’s high.”
“Well, he did,” said Henry, “so it’s no use talkin’ about whether he could or not. If he did he could, I should think.” William’s sarcasm was infectious. “Well, he found it was a pirate ship an’ they put him in irons an’ made him walk the plank an’ just when he got to the end of the plank—now Ginger, go on.”
“Well, you’ve gottim in a nice mess, I mus’ say,” said Ginger bitterly, “an’ I s’pose you want me to gettim out of it—chased by cannibals an’ now walkin’ a plank! Well you gottim into it an’ I’m not goin’ to bother with him. I din’t start it an’ I don’t like it. I’d rather have soldiers an’ fightin’ an’ that sort of a tale. An’ wot can I do with him walkin’ the plank? I’m jus’ about tired of that man. An’ he’s not even gotta name. Well, jus’ as he got to the end of the plank he fell in an’ the whale ate him up an’ he died.”
“It isn’t fair,” said Douglas indignantly, “gettin’ him dead before I’ve had my turn. What’m I goin’ to do?”
“You can tell about someone catchin’ the whale an’ findin’ his dead body inside,” said Ginger calmly.
“Oh, can I?” said Douglas, “well I’m not goin’ to.”
“No, ’cause you can’t,” jeered Ginger. “You can’t finish it however we left it.”
“Oh, couldn’t I?” said Douglas.
They closed in combat. William and Henry watched dispassionately.
Douglas’s collar had completely broken loose from its moorings and two of the already existing tears in Ginger’s coat had been extended to meet each other. They sat down again on the packing cases.