Part 32 (1/2)
”Don't know; that's the mystery on it.”
”Can't you explain what the mystery is?”
”No, sir, and I never met a s.h.i.+pmate as could.”
”Bother the cat! It's all rubbish, Tom.”
”Yes, sir, and it bothers the man; but there it is, all the same. You ask any sailor chap, and--”
”Yes, I know, Tom; and he'll talk just as much nonsense as you.”
”P'raps so, sir, but something bad allus happens to a s.h.i.+p as has a black cat aboard.”
”And something always happens to a s.h.i.+p that has any cat on board. And what is more, something always happens to a s.h.i.+p that has no cat at all on board. Look at our _Seafowl_, for instance.”
”Yes, sir, you may well say that,” said the man sadly. ”The chaps have talked about it a deal, and we all says as she's an unfortnit s.h.i.+p.”
”Oh, you all think so, do you, Tom?”
”Yes, sir, we do,” said the man solemnly.
”Then you may depend upon it, Tom, that there's a black cat hidden away somewhere in the hold.”
”Ah! Come aboard, sir, in port, after the rats? That would account for it, sir, and 'splain it all,” cried the man eagerly. ”You think that's it, do you, sir?”
”No, I don't, Tom; I'm laughing at you for being such an old woman. I did give you the credit of having more sense. I'm ashamed of you.”
”Thankye, sir,” said the man sadly.
”You are quite welcome, Tom,” said Murray, laughing; ”but I suppose you can't help all these weak beliefs.”
”No, sir, we can't help it, some of us,” said the man simply; ”it all comes of being at sea.”
”There being so much salt in the water, perhaps,” said Murray.
”Mebbe, sir; but I don't see what the salt could have to do with it.”
”Neither do I, Tom, and if I didn't know what a good fellow you are, and what a brave sailor, I should be ready to tell you a good deal more than I shall.”
”Go on, sir; I don't mind, sir. I know you mean well.”
”But look here; I'm sorry to hear that your messmates think the _Seafowl_ is an unfortunate craft. But not all, I hope?”
”Yes, sir; we all think so.”
”That's worse still, Tom. But you don't mean to forsake her--desert--I hope?”
”Forsake her--desert? Not me! She's unlucky, sir, and no one can't help it. Bad luck comes to every one sometimes, same as good luck does, sir. We takes it all, sir, just as it comes, just as we did over the landing t'other day--t.i.tely was the unlucky one then, and got a spear through his shoulder, while though lots of their pretty weapons come flying about us no one else was touched; on'y got a bit singed. He took it like a man, sir.”
”That he did, Tom. It was most plucky of him, for he was a good deal hurt.”