"
"It's playful," assented the skipper. "The old man thinks a rare lot of
it. I think I shall have a little bit in that quarter, so keep your eye
on the beggar."
"Scratch Poll!" said the parrot, giving its bill a preliminary strop on
its perch. "Scratch poor Polly!"
It bent its head against the bars, and waited patiently to play off what
it had always regarded as the most consummate practical joke in
existence. The first doubt it had ever had about it occurred when the
mate came forward and obligingly scratched it with the stem of his pipe.
It was a wholly unforeseen development, and the parrot, ruffling its
feathers, edged along its perch and brooded darkly at the other end of
it.
Opinion before the mast was also against the new arrival, the general
view being that the wild jealousy which raged in the bosom of the ship's
cat would sooner or later lead to mischief.
"Old Satan don't like it," said the cook, shaking his head. "The blessed
bird hadn't been aboard ten minutes before Satan was prowling around.
The blooming image waited till he was about a foot off the cage, and
then he did the perlite and asked him whether he'd like a glass o' beer.
_I_ never see a cat so took aback in all my life. Never."
"There'll be trouble between 'em," said old Sam, who was the cat's
special protector, "mark my words.
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