ny other way
he did use his fingers, and it always came out the same. He said
that when he and the cabin-boy cleared up after the men's meals
there were more things to wash than he had given out. There'd be
a fork more, or there'd be a spoon more, and sometimes there'd be
a spoon and a fork, and there was always a plate more. It wasn't
that he complained of that. Before poor Jim Benton was lost they
had a man more to feed, and his gear to wash up after meals, and
that was in the contract, the doctor said. It would have been if
there were twenty in the ship's company; but he didn't think it
was right for the men to play tricks like that. He kept his
things in good order, and he counted them, and he was responsible
for them, and it wasn't right that the men should take more
things than they needed when his back was turned, and just soil
them and mix them up with their own, so as to make him think--

He stopped there, and looked at me, and I looked at him. I didn't
know what he thought, but I began to guess. I wasn't going to
humour any such nonsense as that, so I told him to speak to the
men himself, and not come bothering me about such things.

"Count the plates and forks and spoons before them when they sit
down to table, and tell them that's all they'll get; and when
they have finished, count the things again, and if the count
isn't right, find out who did it. You know it must be one of
them. You're not a green hand; you've been going to sea ten or
eleven years, and don't want any lesson about how to behave if
the boys play a trick on you."

"If I could catch him," said the cook, "I'd have a knife into him
before he could say his prayers."

Those West India men are always talking about knives, especially
when they are badly frightened. I knew what he meant, and didn't
ask him, but went on cleaning the brass cogwheels of the patent
log and oiling the bearings with a feather. "Wouldn't it be
better to wash it out with boiling water, sir?" asked the cook,
in an insinuating tone. He knew that he had made a fool of
himself, and was anxious to make it right again.

I heard no more about the odd platter and gear for two or three
days, though I thought about his story a good deal. The doctor
evidently believed that Jim Benton had come back, though he
didn't quite like to say so. His story had sounded silly enough
on a bright afternoon, in fair weather, when the sun was on the
water, and every rag was drawing in the bre