int of it all, and
tell what subsequently happened.

You must recollect, though, that I was not on the spot myself, and am
only indebted to Jim Chowder for hearing of it--being indeed, at that
very time, on my way with Hiram to the cave and the wonderful surprise
that awaited us there, an account of which I have just related.

Hiram and I had not long left the shore, said Jim, when the mate, who
had his dinner rather late that day, on account of having been up with
the skipper drinking all through the previous night, came down the
ship's side, looking very seedy and ill-tempered from the effects of his
carouse, and with his face all blotchy and his nose red.

He had already been swearing at the steward for keeping him waiting for
his grub, and this appeared to have `got his hand in,' for he had no
sooner come up to where Jan Steenbock was at work with the port watch
digging in the trench, the second-mate setting the men a good example by
wielding a pick as manfully as the best of them, than Mr Flinders began
at Jan in his old abusive fashion, such as all on board the ship had
been familiar with before the wreck and prior to his thrashing, which
certainly had quieted him down for a time.

"Ye durned lop-handled coon!" cried out the cantankerous bully, looking
down on Jan from the top of the plank that crossed the trench, and
served as a sort of gangway between the foot of the side ladder and the
firm ground beyond the excavation. "Why don't ye put yer back into it?
Ye're a nice sort o' skallywag to hev charge of a gang--ye're only
a-playin' at workin', ye an' the hull pack on yer; fur the durned dock
ain't nary a sight deeper than it wer at four bells yester arternoon, I
reckon!"

Jan Steenbock was in no wise disturbed by this exordium.

Dropping his pick, he looked up at the mate; while the rest of the men
likewise stopped working, waiting to see what would happen, and grinning
and nudging each other.

"Mine goot mans," said he in his deep voice, with unruffled composure,
"vas you sbeak to mees?"

Mr Flinders jumped up and down on the plank gangway, making it sway to
and fro with his excitement.

"Vas I sbeak to ye?" he screamed, mimicking in his shrill treble the
Dane's pronunciation. "Who else sh'ud I speak to, ye Dutch son of a
gun? Stir yer stumps, d'ye haar, an' let us see ye airnin' yer keep, ye
lazy hound!"

"Mistaire Vlinders!"

"Aye, thet's me; I'm glad ye reck'lect I've a handle to my name."