“It’s poisoned, you rascal, and you know it,” said the skipper vehemently.
“Wish I may die, sir,” began Joe.
“That’ll do,” said the skipper harshly. “You’ve tried to poison my dog.”
“I ain’t,” said Joe firmly.
“You ain’t been trying to kill ’im with a poisoned bloater?” demanded the skipper.
“Certainly not, sir,” said Joe. “I wouldn’t do such a thing. I couldn’t if I tried.”
“Very good then,” said the skipper; “if it’s all right you eat it, and I’ll beg your pardon.”
“I ain’t goin’ to eat after a dog,” said Joe, shuffling.
“The dog’s as clean as you are,” said the skipper. “I’d sooner eat after him than you.”
“Well, you eat it then, sir,” said Bates desperately. “If it’s poisoned you’ll die, and I’ll be ’ung for it. I can’t say no fairer than that, can I?”