Whether Bob Robins communicated this speech to Sloper I cannot say. It is certain, however, that he took the lantern and the tailor's supper into the hold and stood over the little man whilst he ate and drank. When the retired tailor had finished his repast he asked Robins if he was to be kept locked up in that black hole all night without anything to lie on but shingle.
"What did you fire at us for?" said Bob.
"I never fired at you. I was firing for my own diversion," answered
Mr. Sloper.
"D' ye load with stones for your divarsion, as ye call it?" said Bob.
"There was no stones when you came along," cried the tailor. "Why did you aggrevate me by firing in return?"
"What did you want to fire at all for?" said Bob, almost pitying the trembling little creature as he showed by the lantern light in the cutter's small black hold.
"I was celebrating a hanniversary," answered Mr. Sloper, who maltreated his h's as badly as old Westlake.
"And what sort of a hanniversary calls for gun firing?" said Bob, holding up the lantern to the tailor's face.
"It was the hanniversary of my wife's death," said Mr. Sloper, "and a day of rejoicing with me and my friends."
Bob, who himself was a married man, loving his wife and two little girls with the warm affection of the genuine sailor's heart, looked for some moments speechless with disgust at the white shadowy countenance of Mr. Sloper, and without deigning another word, rose through the hatch, which he carefully secured, and then went aft to old Joe and Plum to report what had passed.