“Not half so well as you did,” said the mate. “Well, I s’pose we’ve got to keep it up now.”
“I s’pose so,” said the skipper; “but we mustn’t keep it up on the same things, George. Swallerin’ knives an’ that sort o’ thing, I mean.”
“No, no,” said the mate hastily.
“An’ if you could get your missus to go home by train from Summercove, George, we might have a little peace and quietness,” added the other.
“She’d never forgive me if I asked her,” said the mate; “you’ll have to order it, cap’n.”
“I won’t do that, George,” said the skipper firmly. “I’d never treat a lady like that aboard my ship. I ’ope I know ’ow to behave myself if I do eat with my knife.”
“Stow that,” said the mate, reddening. “We’ll wait an’ see what turns up,” he added hopefully.
For the next three days nothing fresh transpired, and the bickering between the couples, assumed on the part of the men and virulent on the part of their wives, went from bad to worse. It was evident that the ladies preferred it to any other amusement life on ship-board could offer, and, after a combined burst of hysterics on their part, in which the whole ship’s company took a strong interest, the husbands met to discuss heroic remedies.
“It’s getting worse and worse,” said the skipper ruefully. “We’ll be the laughing-stock o’ the crew even afore they’re done with us. There’s another day afore we reach Summercove, there’s five or six days there, an’ at least five back again.”
“There’ll be murder afore then,” said the mate, shaking his head.