"'Tis my belief 'twas no accident," said Bulger afterwards. "I may be
wrong, but Parmiter bears a grudge against you. And he and that there Mr.
Diggle is too thick by half. I never could make out why Diggle diddled
you about that supercargo business; he don't mean you no kindness, you
may be sure; and when you see two villains like him and Parmiter puttin'
their heads together, look out for squalls, that's what I say."
Desmond was inclined to laugh; the idea seemed preposterous.
"Why are you so suspicious of Mr. Diggle?" he said. "He has not kept his
promise, that's true, and I am sorry enough I ever listened to him. But
that doesn't prove him to be an out-and-out villain. I've noticed that
you keep out of his way. Do you know anything of him? Speak out plainly,
man."
"Well, I'll tell you what I knows about him."
He settled himself against the mast, gave a final polish to his hook with
holystone, and using the hook every now and then to punctuate his
narrative, began.
"Let me see, 'twas a matter o' three years ago. I was bo'sun on the
Swallow, a spanker she was, chartered by the Company, London to Calcutta.
There was none of the doldrums that trip, dodged 'em fair an' square; a
topsail breeze to the Cape, and then the fust of the monsoon to the
Hugli. We lay maybe a couple of months at Calcutta, when what should I do
but take aboard a full dose of the cramp, just as the Swallow was in a
manner of speakin' on the wing. Not but what it sarved me right, for what
business had I at my time of life to be wastin' shore leave by poppin' at
little dicky birds in the dirty slimy jheels, as they call 'em, round
about Calcutta!
"Well, I was put ashore, as was on'y natural, and 'twas a marvel I pulled
through--for it en't many as take the cramp in Bengal and live to tell
it.
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