“Can’t guess.”
“She had a white pan and was savin’ the clams from the walrus’ stomach. And that night,” there came a low rumble from deep down in MacGregor’s throat, “that night we had seal steak and clam chowder for supper. An’ I took seal steak.”
“O-oh,” Johnny breathed.
“Mr. MacGregor,” Rusty said with a gurgle, “you wouldn’t spoil anyone’s dinner, would you?”
“Not for the world,” was the old man’s solemn avowal.
“Listen,” MacGregor held up a hand. “I hear an electric generator going. It’s on this deck. I wonder why? I’m going for a little walk.”
“They’ll chase you back.”
“That’s all they can do.” He was away.
“The ship’s beginning to sway a little,” Johnny said. “Shouldn’t wonder if we’d get a storm.” The girl could not suppress an involuntary shudder.
“Johnny,” she leaned close to speak almost in a whisper. “When we used coolie labor I learned to talk with them a little. I’ve been talking to the coolie who cuts off fish’s heads next to me. He says they expect to have a boatload of fish in a week or ten days. Then they’ll go back to the Orient.”