The steward turned pale, remembering the threats that had been used towards him if he touched the cuddy stores, and looked upon the boatswain's civility as a trick to get him hanged. "Thank you, sir," he stammered; "I've no happetite. I'd rather not eat anything at present, sir. I'll take a ship's biscuit shortly, sir, with your leave." Saying which, and with a ghastly face, he shuffled into the pantry, no doubt to escape from what he would consider highly murderous attentions. "Rum customer, that steward, Mr. Royle," said the boatswain, rubbing his mouth on the back of his hand. "So should I be had I undergone his sensations," I replied. "Well, I don't know about that. You see there ain't nothing regular about a steward. He isn't a sailor and he isn't a landsman; and when you come to them kind o' mongrels, you can't expect much sperrit. It isn't fair to expect it. It's like fallin' foul of a marmozeet, because he isn't as big as a monkey. What about them passengers o' yours, sir? They've not been sarved with breakfast since I've been here?" "I have seen to them," I answered. "What has Stevens been talking about?" As I said this I cast my eyes on the open skylight to see that our friend was not within hearing. He shook his head, and after a short pause exclaimed-- "He's a bad 'un! he's a bad 'un! he's an out-and-outer!" "Do you know which of them struck the captain down?" "He did," he answered at once. "I could have sworn it by the way in which he excused the murderer." "Stevens," continued the boatswain, "is at the bottom of all this here business--him and the cook. I suppose he didn't want the cook for a chum, and so knocked him over when he was going to operate on Duckling's body. But Duckling was a bad 'un too, and so was the skipper. They've got to thank theirselves for what they got. The crew never would ha' turned had they been properly fed." "I believe that," I said. "But I'll tell you what's troubling me, boatswain. The carpenter has some design behind all this, which he is concealing. Does he really mean that I should navigate the ship to within fifty miles of New Orleans?" "Yes, sir, he do," answered the boatswain, regarding me stedfastly. "And he means then to heave the ship to, lower away the boats, and make for one of the mouths of the Mississippi, or land upon some part of the coast, and represent himself and his companions as castaway sailors?" "Quite right," said the boatswain, watching me fixedly. "If that is really his intention," I proceeded, "I cannot believe that he will allow me to land with the others. He distrusts me. He is as suspicious as all murderers are." The boatswain continued eyeing me intently, as a man might who strives to form a resolution from the expression in another's face. "He means to scuttle the ship," he said, in a low voice. "Ah!" I exclaimed, starting. "I should have foreseen this." "He means to scuttle her just before he puts off in the boats," he added in a whisper.