“The blue one, I mean,” said the cook, who wanted that matter settled for good, “the one with the place at the end for the gravy to run into.”
“What did he say?” vociferated the skipper.
“’E ses, ’Ullo,’ he ses, ‘you’ve done it now, old man,’” replied the truthful cook.
The skipper turned a furious face to the mate.
“When the cook come up and told me,” said the mate, in answer, “I see at once what was up, so I went down and just talked to him clever like.”
“I should like to know what you said,” muttered the skipper.
“Well, if you think you can do better than I did you’d better go down and see him,” retorted the mate hotly. “After all, it’s you what ’e come to see. He’s your visitor.”
“No offence, Bob,” said the skipper. “I didn’t mean nothing.”
“I don’t know nothin’ o’ horse-racin’,” continued the mate, with an insufferable air, “and I never ’ad no money troubles in my life, bein’ always brought up proper at ’ome and warned of what would ’appen, but I know a sheriff’s officer when I see ’im.”
“What am I to do?” groaned the skipper, too depressed even to resent his subordinate’s manner. “It’s a judgment summons. It’s ruin if he gets me.”