Crojack looked at me askance. He was not aware of my humour, but was a bit suspicious.
“No, the dolphin,” he said, slowly.
Miss Waters smiled, but Brown looked hard into his plate.
“I once knew a man,” I ventured, “who had figures of women—and ships—all over his body. They were tattooed on him, to be sure, but I don’t quite call to mind ever having seen a man with ‘dolphins.’”
“There are so many things a young fellow of your age hasn’t seen, it would tire one out to tell of them,” said the skipper, good-humouredly. “Better have another piece of turtle.”
I took it and ate doggedly, while the old man held forth upon the evils of fresh pork in the tropics.
However, in spite of the heat and mugginess of the air, Miss Waters managed to get her own way. Crojack allowed her to go with the boat to the Countess of Warwick. The English ship lay motionless and at a distance which put the skipper in a better humour. He would not go himself, especially after seeing what manner of man her captain had shown himself, but I went with two men and Miss Waters, taking half the turtle along with us, some old American papers and magazines, and some bottled beer.
“This is like yachting,” I said, as I settled myself in the stern-sheets and made the young lady comfortable. “If going to sea would only consist of this sort of thing it would not be so intolerably lonesome and monotonous.”
“I suppose I should feel flattered, but I’m at present more interested in the English ship,” said Miss Waters. “Do you think the little skipper will allow us aboard?”
“He made it a point not to invite you, surely,” I answered. I was in no very good humour even yet, and the girl deplored it.