The knife is a palette-knife;
the pencil a Winsor and Newton, and a B B B at that. A
palette-knife and a B B B on a tramp brig! It's against
the laws of nature."
"It would sicken a dog, wouldn't it?" said Nares.
"Yes," I continued, "it's been used by an artist, too:
see how it's sharpened--not for writing--no man could
write with that. An artist, and straight from Sydney?
How can he come in?"
"O, that's natural enough," sneered Nares. "They
cabled him to come up and illustrate this dime novel."
We fell a while silent.
"Captain," I said at last, "there is something deuced
underhand about this brig. You tell me you've been to
sea a good part of your life. You must have seen shady
things done on ships, and heard of more. Well, what is
this? is it insurance? is it piracy? what is it
ABOUT? what can it be for?"
"Mr. Dodd," returned Nares, "you're right about me
having been to sea the bigger part of my life. And
you're right again when you think I know a good many
ways in which a dishonest captain mayn't be on the
square, nor do exactly the right thing by his owners,
and altogether be just a little too smart by ninety-
nine and three-quarters.
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