imself to 'stand by!' But In a whisper.

'You hatch nice little plots, and hold nice little councils, and
make nice little appointments, and receive nice little visitors, too,
Captain, hey?' said Carker, bending his brows upon him, without
showing his teeth any the less: 'but it's a bold measure to come here
afterwards. Not like your discretion! You conspirators, and hiders,
and runners-away, should know better than that. Will you oblige me by
going?'

'My lad,' gasped the Captain, in a choked and trembling voice, and with
a curious action going on in the ponderous fist; 'there's a many words I
could wish to say to you, but I don't rightly know where they're stowed
just at present. My young friend, Wal'r, was drownded only last night,
according to my reckoning, and it puts me out, you see. But you and
me will come alongside o'one another again, my lad,' said the Captain,
holding up his hook, if we live.'

'It will be anything but shrewd in you, my good fellow, if we do,'
returned the Manager, with the same frankness; 'for you may rely, I give
you fair warning, upon my detecting and exposing you. I don't pretend
to be a more moral man than my neighbours, my good Captain; but the
confidence of this House, or of any member of this House, is not to be
abused and undermined while I have eyes and ears. Good day!' said Mr
Carker, nodding his head.

Captain Cuttle, looking at him steadily (Mr Carker looked full as
steadily at the Captain), went out of the office and left him standing
astride before the fire, as calm and pleasant as if there were no more
spots upon his soul than on his pure white linen, and his smooth sleek
skin.

The Captain glanced, in passing through the outer counting-house, at
the desk where he knew poor Walter had been used to sit, now occupied by
another young boy, with a face almost as fresh and hopeful as his on the
day when they tapped the famous last bottle but one of the old Madeira,
in the little back parlour. The nation of ideas, thus awakened, did the
Captain a great deal of good; it softened him in the very height of his
anger, and brought the tears into his eyes.

Arrived at the wooden Midshipman's again, and sitting down in a corner
of the dark shop, the Captain's indignation, strong as it was, could
make no head against his grief. Passion seemed not only to do wrong and
violence to the memory of the dead, but to be infected by death, and
to droop and decline beside it. All the living kn