Matt made a brief study of Bunce, leaning back in his seat and gazing at the mariner through half-closed eyes. The sailorman's get-up reminded Matt of Dick Deadeye in "Pinafore." Whether Bunce was really a deep-water humbug, and whether he was to be taken seriously, were questions that gave Matt a good deal of bother.
"He's stringing us, pard," averred McGlory bluntly. "That tongue of his is hung in the middle and wags at both ends."
"Avast, my man-o'-war!" came hotly from the mariner. "I'm no loafing longshore scuttler to let go my mudhooks in these waters and then begin splicing the main brace out of hand. You'll get your whack, my blood, and get it hard, if you keep on in the style ye're goin'. Belay a bit, can't you?"
McGlory snorted contemptuously and put his tongue in his cheek. Bunce began fingering his knife lanyard.
"No more of that give-and-take," said Matt.
"I'm a hard man," observed Bunce, "an' I've lived a hard life, winnin' my mate's berth on the ole Hottentot off Trincomalee by bashing in the skull of a Kanaka. More things I've done as would make your blood run cold just by listenin' to, but I'm straight as a forestay for all that, d'ye mind, an' I've a clean bill from every master I ever sailed with. 'He ain't much fer looks, Bunce ain't,' as Cap'n Banks, of the ole Hottentot used to say, 'but in a pinch you don't have to look twice for Bunce.' An' there ye have it, all wrapped up, tied small, an' ready for any swab as doubts me."
"Bunce," said Matt dubiously, "I'm frank to say I don't know just how to take you. By your own confession you're a thief——"
"Only when chinks has the loot," cut in Bunce hastily, "an' when it takes a bit of headwork an' a matchin' o' wits to beat 'em out."
"You helped Grattan steal the Eye of Buddha. Plotted it on a sampan off Canton, didn't you?"
Bunce shoved in his chair and showed signs of consternation.