"What's your idee?" he said, abruptly.
It may have been my fancy, but it seemed to me that there was something
deeper than the mere sense the question conveyed.
I glanced at him. I couldn't have said, myself, just what my idea was.
"I don't know!" I answered, a little adrift. "He didn't strike me as
cursing at the Second Mate. That is, I should say, after the first
minute."
"Just what I say," he replied. "Another thing--don't it strike you as
bein' bloomin' queer about Tom nearly comin' down by ther run, an' then
_this?_"
I nodded.
"It would have been all hup with Tom, if it hadn't been for ther
gasket."
He paused. After a moment, he went on again.
"That was honly three or four nights ago!"
"Well," said Plummer. "What are yer drivin' at?"
"Nothin'," answered Stubbins. "Honly it's damned queer. Looks as though
ther ship might be unlucky, after all."
"Well," agreed Plummer. "Things 'as been a bit funny lately; and then
there's what's 'appened ter-night. I shall 'ang on pretty tight ther
next time I go aloft.
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