“Let him turn into his bunk and pretend to be dead,” he continued, in a voice trembling with pride at his strategy. “It’s pretty dark down your foc’sle, I know. Don’t have no light down there, and tell him to keep quiet.”
Captain Thomsett’s eyes shone, but with a qualified admiration.
“Ain’t it somewhat sudden?” he demurred.
Captain Stubbs regarded him with a look of supreme artfulness, and slowly closed one eye.
“He got a chill going in the water,” he said quietly.
“Well, you’re a masterpiece,” said Thomsett ungrudgingly. “I will say this of you, you’re a masterpiece. Mind this is all to be kept quite secret.”
“Make your mind easy,” said the eminent jurist. “If I told all I know there’s a good many men in this river as ’ud be doing time at the present moment.”
Captain Thomsett expressed his pleasure at this information, and, having tried in vain to obtain a few of their names, even going so far as to suggest some, looked at the clock, and, shaking hands, departed to his own ship. Captain Stubbs, left to himself, finished his pipe and retired to rest; and his mate, who had been lying in the adjoining bunk during the consultation, vainly trying to get to sleep, scratched his head, and tried to think of a little strategy himself. He had glimmerings of it before he fell asleep, but when he awoke next morning it flashed before him in all the fulness of its matured beauty.
He went on deck smiling, and, leaning his arms on the side, gazed contemplatively at George, who was sitting on the deck listening darkly to the cook as that worthy read aloud from a newspaper.
“Anything interesting, cook?” demanded the mate.