Part 31 (2/2)
”Don't know what?” asked Murray.
”Oh, nothing, sir.”
”Bother! Don't talk like that,” cried Murray. ”Nothing is more aggravating than beginning to say something and then chopping it off in that way. Speak out and say what you mean.”
”'Tain't no good, sir,” said the man sulkily.
”No good?”
”No, sir. Why, if I was to say what I'd got inside my head you'd either begin to bullyrag me--”
”Nonsense, May! I'm sure I never do.”
”Well, then, sir, call me a hidjit, and say it was all sooperst.i.tion.”
”Well, that's likely enough,” said Murray. ”You sailors are full of old women's tales.”
”Mebbe, sir,” said the man, shaking his head slowly; ”but old women is old, and the elders do grow wise.”
”Sometimes, Tom,” said Murray, laughing, ”and a wise old woman is worth listening to; but you can't say that for a man who talks like a foolish old woman and believes in all kinds of superst.i.tious nonsense.”
”No, sir: of course not, sir,” said the man solemnly; ”but there is things, you know.”
”Oh yes, I do know that, Tom--such as setting sail with a black cat on board.”
”Oh, well, sir, come!” protested the sailor warmly. ”You can't say as a man's a hidjit for believing that. Something always happens if you do that.”
”I could say so, Tom,” replied the middy, ”but I'm not going to.”
”Well, sir, begging your pardon as gentleman, I'm werry sorry for it; but there, you're very young.”
”Go on, Tom.”
”That's all, sir. I warn't going to say no more.”
”But you are thinking a deal more. That was as good as saying that I'm very young and don't know any better.”
”Oh, I didn't go so far as to think that, sir, because you're a hofficer and a gentleman, and a scholar who has larnt more things than I ever heerd of; but still, sir, I dessay you won't mind owning as a fellow as has been at sea from fourteen to four-and-thirty has picked up things such as you couldn't larn at school.”
”Black cats, for instance, Tom?”
”Yes, sir. Ah, you may laugh to yourself, but there's more than you think of about a black cat.”
”A black skin, for instance, Tom, and if the poor brute was killed and skinned he'd look exactly like a white cat or a tortoise-sh.e.l.l.”
”Oh, that's his skin, sir; it's his nature.”
”Pooh! What can there be in a black cat's nature?”
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