You talk of my gills turning
white; before long we shall see whose keeps their color best, mine or
yours, my boy."
There was a silence, during which Hudson was probably asking himself what
Wylie meant; for presently he broke out in a loud but somewhat quivering
voice: "Why, you mad, drunken devil of a ship's carpenter, red-hot from
hell, I see what you are at, now; you are going--"
"Hush!" cried Wylie, alarmed in his turn. "Is this the sort of thing to
bellow out for the watch to hear? Whisper, now."
This was followed by the earnest mutterings of two voices. In vain did
the listener send his very soul into his ear to hear. He could catch no
single word. Yet he could tell, by the very tones of the speakers, that
the dialogue was one of mystery and importance.
Here was a situation at once irritating and alarming; but there was no
help for it. The best thing, now, seemed to be to withdraw unobserved,
and wait for another opportunity. He did so; and he had not long retired,
when the mate came out staggering and flushed with liquor, and that was a
thing that had never occurred before. He left the cabin door open and
went into his own room.
Soon after sounds issued from the cabin--peculiar sounds, something
between grunting and snoring.
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