All of ’em thought the same, not knowing wot a fust-class liar the cook was, and he sat there and lied to ’em till he couldn’t ’ardly speak, he was so ’oarse. “My grandmother was a gypsy,” he ses, “and it’s in the family. Things that are going to ’appen to people I know come to me in dreams, same as pore Bill’s did. It’s curious to me sometimes when I look round at you chaps, seeing you going about ’appy and comfortable, and knowing all the time ’orrible things that is going to ’appen to you. Sometimes it gives me the fair shivers.” “Horrible things to us, slushy?” ses Charlie, staring. “Yes,” ses the cook, nodding. “I never was on a ship afore with such a lot of unfortunit men aboard. Never. There’s two pore fellers wot’ll be dead corpses inside o’ six months, sitting ’ere laughing and talking as if they was going to live to ninety. Thank your stars you don’t ’ave such dreams.” “Who—who are the two, cookie?” ses Charlie, arter a bit. “Never mind, Charlie,” ses the cook, in a sad voice; “it would do no good if I was to tell you. Nothing can alter it.” “Give us a hint,” ses Charlie. “Well, I’ll tell you this much,” ses the cook, arter sitting with his ’ead in his ’ands, thinking; “one of ’em is nearly the ugliest man in the fo’c’s’le and the other ain’t.” O’ course, that didn’t ’elp ’em much, but it caused a lot of argufying, and the ugliest man aboard, instead o’ being grateful, behaved more like a wild beast than a Christian when it was pointed out to him that he was safe. Arter that dream about Bill, there was no keeping the cook in his place. He ’ad dreams pretty near every night, and talked little bits of ’em in his sleep. Little bits that you couldn’t make head nor tail of, and when we asked ’im next morning he’d always shake his ’ead and say, “Never mind.” Sometimes he’d mention a chap’s name in ’is sleep and make ’im nervous for days. It was an unlucky v’y’ge that, for some of ’em. About a week arter pore Bill’s accident Ted Jones started playing catch-ball with another chap and a empty beer-bottle, and about the fifth chuck Ted caught it with his face. We thought ’e was killed at fust—he made such a noise; but they got ’im down below, and, arter they ’ad picked out as much broken glass as Ted would let ’em, the second officer did ’im up in sticking-plaster and told ’im to keep quiet for an hour or two. Ted was very proud of ’is looks, and the way he went on was alarming. Fust of all he found fault with the chap ’e was playing with, and then he turned on the cook. “It’s a pity you didn’t see that in a dream,” he ses, tryin’ to sneer, on’y the sticking-plaster was too strong for ’im. “But I did see it,” ses the cook, drawin’ ’imself up. “_Wot_?” ses Ted, starting. “I dreamt it night afore last, just exactly as it ’appened,” ses the cook, in a offhand way. “Why didn’t you tell me, then?” ses Ted choking.