"Might have been hell!" returned Stubbins. "Stowaways hain't such fools
as all that."
"I dunno," said the first. "I wish I 'ad arsked the Second what 'e
thought about it."
"I don't think it was a stowaway, somehow," I said, chipping in. "What
would a stowaway want aloft? I guess he'd be trying more for the
Steward's pantry."
"You bet he would, hevry time," said Stubbins. He lit his pipe, and
sucked at it, slowly.
"I don't hunderstand it, all ther same," he remarked, after a moment's
silence.
"Neither do I," I said. And after that I was quiet for a while,
listening to the run of conversation on the subject.
Presently, my glance fell upon Williams, the man who had spoken to me
about "shadders." He was sitting in his bunk, smoking, and making no
effort to join in the talk.
I went across to him.
"What do you think of it, Williams?" I asked. "Do _you_ think the Second
Mate really saw anything?"
He looked at me, with a sort of gloomy suspicion; but said nothing.
I felt a trifle annoyed by his silence; but took care not to show it.
After a few moments, I went on.
"Do you know, Williams, I'm beginning to understand what you meant that
night, when you said there were too many shadows."
"Wot yer mean?" he said, pulling his pipe from out of his mouth, and
fairly surprised into answering.
"What I say, of course," I said. "There _are_ too many shadows."
He sat up, and leant forward out from his bunk, extending his hand and
pipe. His eyes plainly showed his excitement.
"'ave yer seen--" he hesitated, and looked at me, struggling inwardly to
express himself.
"Well?" I prompted.
For perhaps a minute he tried to say something. Then his expression
altered suddenly from doubt, and something else more indefinite, to a
pretty grim look of determination.
He spoke.
"I'm blimed," he said, "ef I don't tike er piy-diy out of 'er, shadders
or no shadders."
I looked at him, with astonishment.
"What's it got to do with your getting a pay-day out of her?" I asked.
He nodded his head, with a sort of stolid resolution.
"Look 'ere," he said.
I waited.
"Ther crowd cleared"; he indicated with his hand and pipe towards the
stern.
"You mean in 'Frisco?" I said.
"Yus," he replied; "'an withart er cent of ther piy. I styied."
I comprehended him suddenly.
"You think they saw," I hesitated; then I said "shadows?"
He nodded; but said nothing.
"And so they all bunked?"
He nodded again, and began tapping out his pipe on the edge of his
bunk-board.
"And the officers and the Skipper?" I asked.
"Fresh uns," he said, and got out of his bunk; for eight bells was
striking.
IV
_The Fooling with the Sail_
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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