"The very one--Andy Fay. Well, Andy Fay's just been complaining to
me about O'Sullivan. Says O'Sullivan's threatened his life. When
Andy Fay went off watch at eight he found O'Sullivan stropping a
razor. I'll give you the conversation as Andy gave it to me:
"'Says O'Sullivan to me, "Mr. Fay, I'll have a word wid yeh?"
"Certainly," says I; "what can I do for you?" "Sell me your sea-
boots, Mr. Fay," says O'Sullivan, polite as can be. "But what will
you be wantin' of them?" says I. "'Twill be a great favour," says
O'Sullivan. "But it's my only pair," says I; "and you have a pair of
your own," says I. "Mr. Fay, I'll be needin' me own in bad weather,"
says O'Sullivan. "Besides," says I, "you have no money." "I'll pay
for them when we pay off in Seattle," says O'Sullivan. "I'll not do
it," says I; "besides, you're not tellin' me what you'll be doin'
with them." "But I will tell yeh," says O'Sullivan; "I'm wantin' to
throw 'em over the side." And with that I turns to walk away, but
O'Sullivan says, very polite and seducin'-like, still a-stroppin' the
razor, "Mr. Fay," says he, "will you kindly step this way an' have
your throat cut?" And with that I knew my life was in danger, and I
have come to make report to you, sir, that the man is a violent
lunatic.'
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