The captain obeyed mechanically and, turning a deaf ear to the inquiries of the men, prepared to make the best of an intolerable situation, and began to cleanse his bunk.  First of all he took out the bedding and shook it thoroughly, and then, pro-curing soap and a bucket of water, began to scrub with a will.  Hostile comments followed the action.

“We ain’t clean enough for ’im,” said one voice.

“Partikler old party, ain’t he, Bill?” said another.

“You leave ’im alone,” said the man addressed, surveying the captain’s efforts with a smile of approval.  “You keep on, Nugent, don’t you mind ’im.  There’s a little bit there you ain’t done.”

[Illustration:  “You keep on, Nugent, don’t you mind ’im.”]

“Keep your head out of the way, unless you want it knocked off,” said the incensed captain.

“Ho!” said the aggrieved Bill.  “Ho, indeed!  D’ye ’ear that, mates?  A man musn’t look at ’is own bunk now.”

The captain turned as though he had been stung.  “This is my bunk,” he said, sharply.

“Ho, is it?” said Bill.  “Beggin’ of your pardon, an’ apologizing for a-contradictin’ of you, but it’s mine.  You haven’t got no bunk.”

“I slept in it last night,” said the captain, conclusively.

“I know you did,” said Bill, “but that was all my kind-’artedness.”

“And ’arf a quid, Bill,” a voice reminded him.

“And ’arf a quid,” assented Bill, graciously, “and I’m very much obliged to you, mate, for the careful and tidy way in which you’ve cleaned up arter your-self.”

The captain eyed him.  Many years of command at sea had given him a fine manner, and force of habit was for a moment almost too much for Bill and his friends.  But only for a moment.

“I’m going to keep this bunk,” said the captain, deliberately.

“No, you ain’t, mate,” said Bill, shaking his head, “don’t you believe it.  You’re nobody down here; not even a ordinary seaman.  I’m afraid you’ll ’ave to clean a place for yourself on the carpet.  There’s a nice corner over there.”

“When I get back,” said the furious captain, “some of you will go to gaol for last night’s work.”

“Don’t be hard on us,” said a mocking voice, “we did our best.  It ain’t our fault that you look so ridikerlously young, that we took you for your own son.”

“And you was in that state that you couldn’t contradict us,” said another man.

“If it is your bunk,” said the captain, sternly, “I suppose you have a right to it.  But perhaps you’ll sell it to me?  How much?”

“Now you’re talking bisness,” said the highly gratified Bill, turning with a threatening gesture upon a speculator opposite.  “Wot do you say to a couple o’ pounds?”

The captain nodded.

“Couple o’ pounds, money down,” said Bill, holding out his hand.

The captain examined the contents of his pocket, and after considerable friction bought the bunk for a pound cash and an I O U for the balance.