Black
Michael's as good as new agin an' 'e's not the bully to
stand fer it, not 'e; an' mark my word for it, sir."
"You mean, my man, that the crew contemplates mutiny?"
asked Clayton.
"Mutiny!" exclaimed the old fellow. "Mutiny! They means
murder, sir, an' mark my word for it, sir."
"When?"
"Hit's comin', sir; hit's comin' but I'm not a-sayin' wen, an'
I've said too damned much now, but ye was a good sort
t'other day an' I thought it no more'n right to warn ye. But
keep a still tongue in yer 'ead an' when ye 'ear shootin' git
below an' stay there.
"That's all, only keep a still tongue in yer 'ead, or they'll
put a pill between yer ribs, an' mark my word for it, sir," and
the old fellow went on with his polishing, which carried him
away from where the Claytons were standing.
"Deuced cheerful outlook, Alice," said Clayton.
"You should warn the captain at once, John. Possibly the
trouble may yet be averted," she said.
"I suppose I should, but yet from purely selfish motives I
am almost prompted to `keep a still tongue in my 'ead.'
Whatever they do now they will spare us in recognition of
my stand for this fellow Black Michael, but should they find
that I had betrayed them there would be no mercy shown us, Alice."
"You have but one duty, John, and that lies in the interest
of vested authority. If you do not warn the captain you are
as much a party to whatever follows as though you had helped
to plot and carry it out with your own head and hands.
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