"How long have these fellows been on deck?" I asked of the third-mate,
as he was about to go below.
"All my watch; I found them with the captain, who passed them over to
me for company. If that chap, the Dipper, only knew anything of a
human language, he would be something of society; but I'm as tired of
making signs to him, as I ever was with a hard day's work."
I was armed, and felt ashamed of manifesting fear of an unarmed
man. Then the two savages gave no additional cause of distrust; the
Dipper having taken a seat on the windlass, where he was smoking his
pipe with an appearance of philosophy that would have done credit to
the gravest-looking baboon. As for Smudge, he did not appear to be
sufficiently intellectual to smoke; an occupation that has at least
the merit of affecting the air of wisdom and reflection. I never could
discover whether your great smokers were actually wiser than the rest
of the race, or not; but, it will be admitted, they occasionally seem
to be so. It was a pity Smudge did not have recourse to the practice,
as it might have given the fellow an appearance of sometimes
cogitating. As it was, while his companion was enjoying his pipe at
the windlass, he kept strolling about the deck, much as a pig would
have wandered in the same place, and seemingly with the same object.
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