e could say any more a little dark man with
black crinkly hair like a negro's emerged into the light, looking by no
means amiable at being disturbed by the boatswain's hail.

"What you want--hey?" he asked angrily. "I got my bizness to do in
pantry, 'fore ze cap'in coom aboard."

"What do I want, me joker?" returned Tim, in no way put out by his rude
address. "I want somethin' to ate for me an' this young jintleman here.
D'ye hear that?"

"Zere's nuzzing left," surlily answered the man. "You should coom down
in ze propare time."

"The dickens I should? Confound y'r impudence, ye mangy Porteegee swab!
Allow me to till ye, Misther Paydro Carvalho--an' be the powers it's a
sin ag'in the blessed Saint Pater to name such an ugly thafe as ye
afther him--that I'll pipe down to grub whin I loikes widout axin y'r
laive or license. Jist ye look sharp, d'ye hear, an' git us somethin'
to ate at once!"

To emphasise his words, the boatswain jumped up from his seat as he
spoke; and the other, thinking he was going to make an attack on him,
dodged to the opposite side of the table so as to have this as a sort of
bulwark in between the irate Irishman and himself, vehemently protesting
all the while that there was "nuzzing" he could put on the table.

"Nonsense, steward," interposed the second mate, who with Matthews
seemed highly amused at the altercation, the two grinning between their
bites of bread and butter. "There's that tin of corned-beef you opened
for me just now, bring that."

"An' tay," roared out Tim Rooney, resuming his seat again, which seeing,
the dark little man, who had grown almost pallid with fright, swiftly
retreated into the darkness of his pantry, muttering below his breath;
while Tim, turning to me, asked, "Ye'd loike some tay wid y'r grub,
Misther Gray-ham, wouldn't ye now?"

"Yes," I said.

"Tay for two, ye spalpeen!" he thereupon roared out a second time; "an'
ye'd betther look sharp, too, d'ye hear?"

The answer to this was a tremendous smash from the pantry, and the sound
of things clattering about and rolling on the floor, as if all the
crockery in the ship was broken, whereat Tim and the second mate and
Matthews burst altogether into one simultaneous shout of laughter.

"Tare an' 'ouns, he's at it ag'in!" cried the boatswain when he was able
to speak; "he's at it ag'in!"

"Aye, he's at it again. A rum chap, ain't he?" said Mr Saunders.

"It's ownly his nasty timper, though; an' he vi