‘Is it all right with you, Marlowe?’ cried Tom passionately.
‘All right,’ I answered, ‘and right also with our two friends.’
‘Dow look here!’ exclaimed Barney Abram, whom I did not instantly recognise, for he had removed his convict clothes and wore a long pea-coat, cap and trousers belonging to Captain Sutherland. ‘Look here!’ he exclaimed, addressing the convicts, who stood in a crowd at the cabin door. ‘Our agreebet with Butler was that his two yug freds was to be let alode. It was probised. Why dote you keep your word? D’ye dow where y’ are? You’re at sea, and there’s dot a bad you cad trust the ship to but Butler,’ and here he put his immense hand upon Tom’s shoulder. ‘There’s a third party he’s asked our kideness for. He shall have it. We owe hib do grudge. The chief bate of this ship’s always beed a quiet bad. Did ady bad ever hear hib slig a hard word at a prisoder? He’s Butler’s fred, ad that’s edough. Butler’s our fred, ad’ll carry you in safety to where you bay scatter. Ate that what you want?’
‘We never came ’ere to ’urt ’em,’ said one of the convicts.
‘D’ye know them now?’ shouted Tom. ‘Look, and tell all hands of you, fore and aft, that these three are my friends and are not to be molested. If they are not well used by you all, if the smallest injury befalls them through any one of you, I instantly chuck the job of navigating the ship. You may threaten me; you may torture me; you may hang me. I’ll fling the navigating instruments overboard, and leave the ship to drown you on a lee shore or to run foul of an English man-of-war.’
I cannot express the savageness with which he spoke; the hatred and contempt with which he surveyed the crowd of ugly rascals.
‘That’s plaid English! Are you satisfied?’ cried Barney Abram, clapping his hands on his thighs and stooping and howling his words at them.
‘Come along, bullies! No use wasting time here!’ cried a voice.
In a moment the convicts broke away. They burst into the cabin next door and filled the pantry, and I heard them laughing and yelling as they flung the food they found at one another and dashed the crockery against the bulkhead. Tom shut the door.
‘Ad ’ow are you, yug gentlebud?’ said Abram, offering me his hand. ‘So the doctor wadted to bake be your pal, eh? He preaches a good serbud,’ he added, shutting one eye and looking at Mr. Bates. ‘What d’ye thik of this, sir, for a piece of orgadisatiod? Is it prettily badaged?’