The skipper was about to follow him, to complain of the needless ambiguity of his remarks, when he was arrested by a disturbance from the foc’sle. In response to the cordial invitation of the cook, the mate and one of the hands from the brig _Endeavour_, moored alongside, had come aboard and gone below to look at George. The manner in which they were received was a slur upon the hospitality of the _John Henry;_ and they came up hurriedly, declaring that they never wanted to see him again as long as they lived, and shouting offensive remarks behind them as they got over the side of their own vessel. The skipper walked slowly to the focs’le and put his head down. “George,” he shouted. “Sir,” said the hero gruffly. “Come down into the cabin,” said the other, turning away. “I want to have a little talk with you.” George rose, and, first uttering some terrible threats against the cook, who bore them with noble fortitude, went on deck and followed the skipper to the cabin. At his superior’s request he took a seat on the locker, awkwardly enough, but smiled faintly as the skipper produced a bottle and a couple of glasses. “Your health, George,” said the skipper, as he pushed a glass towards him and raised his own. “My bes’ respec’s, sir,” said George, allowing the liquor to roll slowly round his mouth before swallowing it. He sighed heavily, and, putting his empty glass on the table, allowed his huge head to roll on his chest. “Saving life don’t seem to agree with you, George,” said the skipper. “I like modesty, but you seem to me to carry it a trifle too far.” “It ain’t modesty, sir,” said George; “it’s that fortygraph. When I think o’ that I go ’ot all over.” “I shouldn’t let that worry me if I was you, George,” said the other kindly. “Looks ain’t everything.” “I didn’t mean it that way,” said George very sourly. “My looks is good enough for me. In fact, it is partly owing to my looks, so to speak, that I’m in a mess.” “A little more rum, George?” said the skipper, whose curiosity was roused. “I don’t want to know your business, far from it. But in my position as cap’n, if any of my crew gets in a mess I consider it’s my duty to lend them a hand out of it, if I can.” “The world ’ud be a better place if there was more like you,” said George, waxing sentimental as he sniffed delicately at the fragrant beverage. “If that noosepaper, with them pictures, gets into a certain party’s ’ands, I’m ruined.” “Not if I can help it, George,” said the other with great firmness. “How do you mean ruined?” The seaman set his glass down on the little table, and, leaning over, formed a word with his lips, and then drew back slowly and watched the effect. “What?” said the skipper. The other repeated the performance, but beyond seeing that some word of three syllables was indicated the skipper obtained no information. “You can speak a little louder,” he said somewhat crustily. “Bigamy!” said George, breathing the word solemnly.