“No,” said the other shortly. “Listen.”
The mate listened. From the fo’c’s’le came the low, gruff voices of men, broken by the silvery ripple of women’s laughter.
“Well, I’m a Dutchman,” said the mate with the air of one who felt he was expected to say something.
“After all I said to ’em,” said the skipper with weary dignity. “You ’eard what I said to ’em, Jack?”
“Nobody could ha’ swore louder,” testified the mate.
“An’ here they are,” said the skipper in amaze, “defying of me. After all I said to ’em. After all the threats I—I employed.”
“Employed,” repeated the mate with relish.
“They’ve been and gone and asked them females down the fo’c’s’le again. You know what I said I’d do, Jack, if they did.”
“Said you’d eat ’em without salt,” quoted the other helpfully.
“I’ll do worse than that, Jack,” said the skipper after a moment’s discomfiture. “What’s to hinder us casting off quietly and taking them along with us?”