"What! what!—given you up for any one?"
"Yes, and—and—I don't think he's my master,—unless it's in dollars."
"Ah!—And who saved you from the shark?"
"A young French officer,—bless him! He harpooned my sealy friend, and found a friend for life,—though it a'n't much a poor sailor-fellow can do for an officer. And, though we're at war with the French, I'd be hanged sooner than fire at his ship."
Here Bertha, assisted by Jodoque, set the big jug down upon the table with a bang. And here, too, something fell down in a neighboring room,—precisely as though a person, journeying in a dark chamber, had upset a heavy wooden chair. The noise sent Doome right into the sailor's arms, and also sent Jodoque right behind Bertha, who turned pale.
"There's some one in the room," said Jodoque.
"No, no!" said Bertha—"'tis poor aunt's room; no one goes there.
It's only the rats,—that's all,—only the rats."
For a stranger, the sailor showed a great deal of curiosity; for he turned very red, and said, "Suppose you look and see."
"Oh, no, no! Never mind. 'Tis only rats. No one ever goes into that room. My dear, dear guardian died in that room."
"Yes, Mistress," said the sailor, "but rats don't throw down chairs and tables."