I
thought he'd been wonderful quiet."
"We must talk him over," said the skipper, advancing to the hatchway.
"Poor dog! Poor old chap! Come along, then! Come along!" He patted his
leg and whistled, and the dog, which wanted to get to sleep again,
growled like a small thunderstorm.
"Come on, old fellow!" said the skipper enticingly. "Come along, come
on, then!"
The dog came at last, and then the skipper, instead of staying to pat
him, raced Bill up the ropes, while the brute, in execrable taste, paced
up and down the deck daring them to come down. Coming to the conclusion,
at last, that they were settled for the night, he returned to the
forecastle and, after a warning bark or two, turned in again. Both men,
after waiting a few minutes, cautiously regained the deck.
"You call him up again," said Bill, seizing a boat-hook, and holding it
at the charge.
"Certainly not," said the other. "I won't have no blood spilt aboard my
ship."
"Who's going to spill blood?" asked the Jesuitical Bill; "but if he
likes to run hisself on to the boat-hook "--
"Put it down," said the skipper sternly, and Bill sullenly obeyed.
"We'll have to snooze on deck," said Codd.
"And mind we don't snore," said the sarcastic Bill, "'cos the dog
mightn't like it.
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