It was Hawkson, sure enough. I recognized him easily now in spite of his gray hair and older look. How I failed to recognize him at first even in his disguise puzzled me. We had made the cruise in the Petrel together, and had served on the man-of-war.
“Well, you’ve got me fast enough, though you played a mean trick getting me. Now what’s the game?” said I.
The old privateersman smiled, and his jaws worked as though muttering to himself. His face creased into ugly lines about his large mouth, and he showed his teeth.
“I’m first officer here. That fellow Gull you fouled this morning is second. Remember this first and the rest’ll come easy. Henry is third mate, and I hear them say that you’re to be made gunner. How’s that?”
“Who’s them?” I asked, somewhat nettled.
“Them’s us, sonny. The old man, the two gentlemen aft, myself, and the rest.”
“Where are we bound for, and what’s the hooker’s name? It’s all well enough to be cribbed aboard a ship, but I’m going to find out what’s the game.”
“We’re bound for the South Pacific; that’s all clear as mud, an’ we’ve got a picked crew because the business in hand needs honest men.”
“I bow to myself,” I answered. “It’s well to know.”
“What more do you want, hey? Go forrads an’ turn in, an’ I’ll square ye with the fellow Gull. Don’t let them see me talkin’ too much with ye, sonny, or I’ll have to forget the past for the needs o’ the present. You’re aboard a fine ship.”