“He don’t understand it,” said the captain, in reply to the objections of the defaulter. “He is a wharf-rat, and he hasn’t brains enough to fit out a mouse, to say nothing of a rat.” “I don’t know about that,” added Mr. Wallgood. “He talks like a boy that knows what he is about.” “No: he’s stupid, and hasn’t the least idea what is going on, even if he heard the whole of the talk. You can speak to him, and satisfy yourself, if you wish; but I must go on deck, and look out for the ship.” Wade heard all this, and he did not like the idea of being considered stupid. He felt very sure that he was not stupid. Still he did not care to tell the cashier of the bank all he knew about the business. He had often seen Mr. Wallgood in Midhampton, but he was confident that the defaulter did not know him. Lon Trustleton had pointed the cashier out to Matt once, or he would not have known him. But, before the man of money could say any thing to him, Pollish had him on the rack. “How came you in this yacht?” demanded the steward, in a tone even more savage than the captain had used. To his inferiors, he was even more of a bully than the skipper of the yacht; but Wade had no fear of him. “You heard what I said to the captain; and I haven’t any thing different to say to you,” replied Wade, with as much independence as though he had belonged to the vessel, and had come on board of her in a perfectly regular manner. “None of your lip, or I’ll bat you over the head,” replied Pollish. “I won’t take any of your sauce, if the captain does.” “What will you do?” “I’ll bat you over the head! I’ll learn you to steal the beefsteaks, and then have it laid to me.” “All right: if you want to do any thing of that sort, go ahead; and I shall have something to say to Capt. Bendig, that he will like to hear.” “What do you mean by that?” demanded Pollish; and perhaps he did not feel that his record was as clean as it might be. “Bat me over the head; and after that you ask the captain what I meant by it.” “Can’t you tell me now what you mean?” “Yes, I can tell you now; and I don’t think you will want to bat me over the head. It was mean for you to tell the captain that the cook had been on a spree, when you had been off yourself,” replied Wade, with no little confidence in his ability to conquer a peace. “I wasn’t on a spree,” added Pollish. “You told the captain you were on board all the time in the evening and all night, on the lookout for him; which was all a lie.” “How do you know it was?” demanded the steward, deeply interested by this time. “You were not on board at half-past seven, when I came on board: if you had been, you would have seen me, and would not have allowed me to make my bed in the captain’s state-room.” “How did you get inside of the yacht?” asked Pollish, in a subdued tone.