“What isn’t your business?” said the mate carelessly. “His,” said Henry.
The mate turned away seething, and hearing a chuckle from the galley, went over there and stared at the cook—a wretched being with no control at all over his feelings—for quite five minutes. In that short space of time he discovered that the galley was the dirtiest hole under the sun and the cook the uncleanest person that ever handled food. He imparted his discoveries to the cook, and after reducing him to a state of perspiring imbecility, turned round and rated the men again. Having charged them with insolence when they replied, and with sulkiness when they kept silent, he went below, having secured a complete victory, and the incensed seamen, after making sure that he had no intention of returning, went towards Henry to find fault with him.
“If you was my boy,” said Sam, breathing heavily, “I’d thrash you to within a inch of your life.”
“If I was your boy I should drown myself,” said Henry very positively.
Henry’s father had frequently had occasion to remark that his son favored his mother, and his mother possessed a tongue which was famed throughout Wapping, and obtained honorable mention in distant Limehouse.
“You can’t expect discipline aboard a ship where the skipper won’t let you ’it the boy,” said Dick moodily. “It’s bad for ’im too.”
“Don’t you worry about me, my lads,” said Henry with offensive patronage. “I can take care of myself all right. You ain’t seen me come aboard so drunk that I’ve tried to get down the foc’sle without shoving the scuttle back. You never knew me to buy a bundle o’ forged pawn-tickets. You never—”
“Listen to ’im,” said Sam, growing purple; “I’ll be ’ung for ’im yet.”
“If you ain’t, I will,” growled Dick, with whom the matter of the pawn-tickets was a sore subject.
“Boy!” yelled the mate, thrusting his head out at the companion.