CHAPTER43Hark

"hist!didyouhearthatnoise,cabaco?"

itwasthemiddle-watch:afairmoonlight;theseamenwerestandinginacordon,extendingfromoneofthefresh-waterbuttsinthewaist,tothescuttlebuttnearthetaffrail.inthismanner,theypassedthebucketstofillthescuttle-butt.standing,forthemostpart,onthehallowedprecinctsofthequarter-deck,theywerecarefulnottospeakorrustletheirfeet.fromhandtohand,thebucketswentinthedeepestsilence,onlybrokenbytheoccasionalflapofasail,andthesteadyhumoftheunceasinglyadvancingkeel.

itwasinthemidstofthisrepose,thatarchy,oneofthecordon,whosepostwasneartheafter-hatches,whisperedtohisneighbor,acholo,thewordsabove.

"hist!didyouhearthatnoise,cabaco?"

"takethebucket,willye,archy?whatnoised'yemean?"

"thereitisagain—underthehatches—don'tyouhearit—acough—itsoundedlikeacough."

"coughbedamned!passalongthatreturnbucket."

"thereagain—thereitis!—itsoundsliketwoorthreesleepersturningover,now!"

"caramba!havedone,shipmate,willye?it'sthethreesoakedbiscuitsyeeatforsupperturningoverinsideofye—nothingelse.looktothebucket!"

"saywhatyewill,shipmate;i'vesharpears."

"aye,youarethechap,ain'tye,thatheardthehumoftheoldquakeress'sknitting-needlesfiftymilesatseafromnantucket;you'rethechap."

"grinaway;we'llseewhatturnsup.harkye,cabaco,thereissomebodydownintheafter-holdthathasnotyetbeenseenondeck;andisuspectouroldmogulknowssomethingofittoo.iheardstubbtellflask,onemorningwatch,thattherewassomethingofthatsortinthewind."

"tish!thebucket!"