Part 42 (2/2)

It was Black Tom, smoking with perspiration.

”Aisy, man, aisy,” said Caesar, with lofty dignity. ”I've the gig on the quay.”

”And I've a stiff cart on the market,” said Black Tom.

”I'm wanting no a.s.sistance,” said Caesar; ”you needn't trouble yourself.”

”Don't mention it, Caesar,” said Black Tom, and he turned the trunk on end and bent his back to lift it.

But Caesar put a heavy hand on top and said, ”Gough bless me, man, but I am sorry for thee. Mammon hath entered into thy heart, Tom.”

”He have just popped out of thine, then,” said Black Tom, swirling the trunk on one of its corners.

But Caesar held on, and said, ”I don't know in the world why you should let the devil of covetousness get the better of you.”

”I don't mane to--let go the chiss,” said Black Tom, and in another minute he had it on his shoulder.

”Now, I believe in my heart,” said Caesar, ”I would be forgiven a little violence,” and he took the trunk by both hands to bring it down again.

”Let go the chiss, or I'll strek thee into the harbour,” bawled Black Tom under his load.

”The Philistines be upon thee, Samson,” cried Caesar, and with that there was a struggle.

In the midst of the uproar, while the men were shouting into each other's faces, and the trunk was rocking between them shoulder high, a sunburnt man, with a thick beard and a formidable voice, a stalwart fellow in a pilot jacket and wide-brimmed hat, came hurrying up the cabin-stairs, and a dog came running behind him. A moment later he had parted the two men, and the trunk was lying at his feet.

Black Tom fell back a step, lifted his straw hat, scratched his bald crown, and muttered in a voice of awe. ”Holy sailor!”

Caesar's face was livid, and his eyes went up toward his forehead. ”Lord have mercy upon me,” he mumbled; ”have mercy on my soul, O Lord.”

”Don't be afraid,” said the stranger. ”I'm a living man and not a ghost.”

”The man himself,” said Black Tom.

”Peter Quilliam alive and hearty,” said Caesar.

”I am,” said Pete. ”And now, what's the bobbery between the pair of you?

Shuperintending the beaching of my trunk, eh?”

But having recovered from his terror at the idea that Pete was a spirit, Caesar began to take him to task for being a living man. ”How's this?”

said he. ”Answer me, young man, I've praiched your funeral.”

”You'll have to do it again, Mr. Cregeen, for I'm not gone yet,” said Pete.

”No, but worth ten dead men still,” said Black Tom. ”And my goodness, boy, the smart and stout you're looking, anyway. Been thatching a bit on the chin, eh? Foreign parts has made a man of you, Peter. The straight you're like the family, too! You'll be coming up to the trough with me--the ould home, you know. I'll be whipping the chiss ash.o.r.e in a jiffy, only Caesar's that eager to help, it's wonderful. No, you'll not then?”

Pete was shaking his head as he went up the gangway, and seeing this, Caesar said severely--

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