Mate [hastily]. But the grub's gittin' low.
Keeney. They's enough to last a long time yit, if they're careful with it; and they's plenty of water.
Mate. They say it's not fit to eat—what's left; and the two years they signed on fur is up to-day. They might make trouble for you in the courts when we git home.
Keeney. Let them make what law trouble they kin! I don't give a damn 'bout the money. I've got to git the ile! [Glancing sharply at the Mate.] You ain't turnin' no sea lawyer, be you, Mr. Slocum?
Mate [flushing]. Not by a hell of a sight, sir.
Keeney. What do the fools want to go home fur now? Their share o' the four hundred barrel wouldn't keep them in chewin' terbacco.
Mate [slowly]. They wants to git back to their old folks an' things, I s'pose.
Keeney [looking at him searchingly]. 'N you want to turn back too. [The Mate looks down confusedly before his sharp gaze.] Don't lie, Mr. Slocum. It's writ down plain in your eyes. [With grim sarcasm.] I hope, Mr. Slocum, you ain't agoin' to jine the men agin me.
Mate [indignantly]. That ain't fair, sir, to say sich things.
Keeney [with satisfaction]. I warn't much afeard o' that, Tom. You been with me nigh on ten year and I've learned ye whalin'. No man kin say I ain't a good master, if I be a hard one.