He shook his head lugubriously as
he broke the news. The carpenter was missing. The ship had been
searched for him high and low. There just was no carpenter.
"What does the steward think?" I asked. "What does Louis think?--and
Yatsuda?"
"The sailors, they kill 'm carpenter sure," was the answer. "Very
bad ship this. Very bad hearts. Just the same pig, just the same
dog. All the time kill. All the time kill. Bime-by everybody kill.
You see."
The old steward, at work in his pantry, grinned at me when I
mentioned the matter.
"They make fool with me, I fix 'em," he said vindictively. "Mebbe
they kill me, all right; but I kill some, too."
He threw back his coat, and I saw, strapped to the left side of his
body, in a canvas sheath, so that the handle was ready to hand, a
meat knife of the heavy sort that butchers hack with. He drew it
forth- it was fully two feet long--and, to demonstrate its razor-
edge, sliced a sheet of newspaper into many ribbons.
"Huh!" he laughed sardonically. "I am Chink, monkey, damn fool, eh?-
-no good, eh? all rotten damn to hell.
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