"Do you think Jimmy did?" says Bill, screwing up his nose at me. "That
little varmint is walking about worth six 'undered quid. Now you keep
your mouth shut and I'll make it worth your while."

Then I see Bill's game. "All right, I'll keep quiet for the sake of my
half," I says, looking at 'im.

I thought he'd ha' choked, and the langwidge 'e see fit to use was a'most
as much as I could answer.

"Very well, then," 'e says, at last, "halves it is. It ain't robbery
becos it belongs to nobody, and it ain't the boy's becos 'e was told to
throw it overboard."

They buried pore old Thomas next morning, and arter it was all over Bill
put 'is 'and on the boy's shoulder as they walked for'ard and 'e says,
"Poor old Thomas 'as gone to look for 'is money," he says; "wonder
whether 'e'll find it! Was it a big bundle, Jimmy?"

"No," says the boy, shaking 'is 'ead. "They was six 'undered pound notes
and two sovereigns, and I wrapped the sovereigns up in the notes to make
'em sink. Fancy throwing money away like that, Bill: seems a sin, don't
it?"

Bill didn't answer 'im, and that afternoon the other chaps below being
asleep we searched 'is bunk through and through without any luck, and at
last Bill sat down and swore 'e must ha' got it about 'im.

We waited till night, and when everybody was snoring 'ard we went over to
the boy's bunk and went all through 'is pockets and felt the linings, and
then we went back to our side and Bill said wot 'e thought about Jimmy in
whispers.

"He must ha' got it tied round 'is waist next to 'is skin, like Thomas
'ad," I says.

We stood there in the dark whispering, and then Bill couldn't stand it
any longer, and 'e went over on tiptoe to the bunk ag'in. He was
tremblin' with excitement and I wasn't much better, when all of a sudden
the cook sat up in 'is bunk with a dreadful laughing scream and called
out that somebody was ticklin' 'im.

I got into my bunk and Bill got into 'is, and we lay there listening
while the cook, who was a terrible ticklish man, leaned out of 'is bunk
and said wot 'e'd do if it 'appened ag'in.

"Go to sleep," says Walter Jones; "you're dreamin'. Who d'you think
would want to tickle you?"

"I tell you," says the cook, "somebody come over and tickled me with a
'and the size of a leg o' mutton. I feel creepy all over."

Bill gave it up for that night, but the next day 'e pretended to think
Jimmy was gettin' fat an' 'e caught 'old of 'im and prodded