"They're as like as two lumps o' coal," said Sam slowly. "Lord, what a
joke on the old man. I must tell the mate o' this; he'll enjoy it."
"It'll be all right if the parrot don't die," said the dainty pessimist,
still harping on his pet theme. "All that bread spoilt, and two cats
aboard."
"Don't mind what he ses," said Sam; "you're a brick, that's what you
are. I'll just make a few holes in the lid o' the boy's chest, and pop
old Satan in. You don't mind, do you, Billy?"
"Of course he don't," said the other men indignantly.
Matters being thus agreeably arranged, Sam got a gimlet, and prepared
the chest for the reception of its tenant, who, convinced that he was
being put out of the way to make room for a rival, made a frantic fight
for freedom.
"Now get something 'eavy and put on the top of it," said Sam, having
convinced himself that the lock was broken; "and, Billy, put the noo cat
in the paint-locker till we start; it's home-sick."
The boy obeyed, and the understudy was kept in durance vile until they
were off Limehouse, when he came on deck and nearly ended his career
there and then by attempting to jump over the bulwark into the next
garden. For some time he paced the deck in a perturbed fashion, and
then, leaping on the stern, mewed plaintively as his native city receded
farther and farther from his view.
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