“I didn’t mean it that way,” said George very sourly. “My looks is good enough for me. In fact, it is a partly owing to my looks, so to speak, that I’m in a mess.”
“A little more rum, George?” said the skipper, whose curiosity was roused. “I don’t want to know your business, far from it. But in my position as cap’n, if any of my crew gets in a mess I consider it’s my duty to lend them a hand out of it, if I can.”
“The world ’ud be a better place if there was more like you,” said George, waxing sentimental as he sniffed delicately at the fragrant beverage. “If that noosepaper, with them pictures, gets into a certain party’s ’ands, I’m ruined.”
“Not if I can help it, George,” said the skipper with great firmness. “How do you mean ruined?”
The seaman set his glass down on the little table, and, leaning over, formed a word with his lips, and then drew back slowly and watched the effect.
“What?” said the skipper.
The other repeated the performance, but beyond seeing that some word of three syllables was indicated the skipper obtained no information.
“You can speak a little louder,” he said, somewhat crustily.
“Bigamy!” said George, breathing the word solemnly.
“You?” said the skipper.