Not
'altin' for the obstacle, nor changin' step, I shuffles it along under the
ball of the big toe to the foot o' the hatchway, when, lightly stoopin', I
catch it in my right hand and continue my evolutions in rapid time till I
eventuates under 'Op's lee.
"It was a small moroccer-bound pocket-book, full of indelible pencil-
writin'--in French, for I could plainly discern the _doodeladays_, which
is about as far as my education runs.
"'Op fists it open and peruses. 'E'd known an 'arf-caste Frenchwoman
pretty intricate before he was married; when he was trained man in a
stinkin' gunboat up the Saigon River. He understood a lot o' French--
domestic brands chiefly--the kind that isn't in print.
"'Pye,' he says to me, 'you're a tattician o' no mean value. I am a trifle
shady about the precise bearin' an' import' o' this beggar's private log
here,' 'e says, 'but it's evidently a case for the owner. You'll 'ave your
share o' the credit,' 'e says.
"'Nay, nay, Pauline,' I says, 'You don't catch Emanuel Pyecroft mine-
droppin' under any post-captain's bows,' I says, 'in search of honour,' I
says. 'I've been there oft.'
"'Well, if you must, you must,' 'e says, takin' me up quick. 'But I'll
speak a good word for you, Pye.'
"'You'll shut your mouth, 'Op,' I says, 'or you an' me'll part brass-rags.
The owner has his duties, an' I have mine. We will keep station,' I says,
'nor seek to deviate.
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