human
I'm sorry I signed on! grumbled one.
gpt
Didn't know it was quarters like this.
human
Scholar, young feller, he said,
gpt
Scholar, young feller--listen to what I'd be tellin' ye. When ye see fellers come in, and when ye hear them say they're sorry they signed on the ship watch your pockuts. They haven't signed on at all. They've only come aboard to see what they can steal.
human
Is Montreal Mike--is Montreal Mike there?
gpt
It's me ould friend,
human
Come and have some more, Mike, said the voice above.
gpt
She won't sail till four.
human
Come ashore!
gpt
No, thanks.
human
All right, then--watch your pockuts and keep an eye on my bunk. I haven't reserved it. Tell thim it's Montreal Mike's, and he'll burst any man he finds sitting on it.
gpt
Not sailing till four! and a general exodus from the cabin. Scholar stretched out upon his bunk--and repented him that he had invited Mike and the others ashore, starting them upon their jamboree. Nor could he ease himself by thinking that if he had not done so someone else would; not even the thought that sooner or later they would have gone ashore of their own accord, finding that the others had left work, soothed him. The place rang like the inside of a drum as the departing feet clattered over the deck. The volume of sound died, the hammer of heels was intermittent. More men, or youths, such as Mike had warned him of, came down into the cabin and roved, searching, round it. Suddenly a man in one of the mid-deck bunks--a top bunk--sat up and wailed:
human
Ma valise--gone--pooh!