been attending to me at the Goat and Compasses--a clever little black boy
of Mr. Diggle's."

"Black boys be hanged! I never knowed a Sambo as was any use on board
ship. They howls when they're sick, and they're allers sick, and never
larns to tell a marlinspike from a belayin' pin."

"But Scipio isn't one of that sort. He's never sick, Mr. Diggle says;
they've been several voyages together, and Scipio knows a ship from stem
to stern."

"Scipio, which his name is? Uncommon name, that."

There was a new tone in Bulger's voice, and he gave Desmond a keen and,
as it seemed, a troubled look.

"Yes, it is strange," replied the boy, vaguely aware of the change of
manner. "But Mr. Diggle has ways of his own."

"This Mr. Diggle, now; I may be wrong, but I should say--yes, he's short,
with bow legs and a wart on his cheek?"

"No, no; you must be thinking of some one else. He is tall, rather a
well-looking man; he hasn't a wart, but there is a scar on his brow,
something like yours."

"Ah, I know they sort; a fightin' sort o' feller, with a voice
like--which I say, like a nine pounder?"

"Well, not exactly; he speaks rather quietly; he is well educated, too,