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That week's "season of grand opera" was an unqualified success, following closely the lines laid down by the experienced Mr. Spratt.
We found that Johnny Spratt had got some water boiling to make tea, and Tommy Bigg had collected some shells, while the blacks had brought in some cocoa-nuts and several other tropical fruits and roots whose names I do not remember. "Wait till turtle come, then plenty supper," they observed.
I slung my spyglass over my shoulder, and, thinking that I might get a good shot at some birds, filled my powder-flask and shot-belt, and rifle in hand, followed by Solon, stepped into the boat. I took one oar and Spratt another, and we had two black men whom the chief mate had observed were first-rate hands at turning turtles.
I stepped forward, and there I found Johnny Spratt and Tommy Bigg, both metamorphosed into regular men-of-war's men, though the latter was certainly a very little one. Johnny, I found, had entered before the brig left Point de Galle.
Any explanations that Bobby might have tried to make were happily prevented by a voice from the yawning blackness a quiet voice, a voice of authority, the voice of Mr. Spratt. "Come right down in front here, Burnit. Jimmy, show the gentleman how to get down."
If you were not naughty, you wouldn't be beaten. But if you are naughty, God will be angry, as well as Mr. Spratt; and God can burn you for ever. That will be worse than being beaten. Master Fodge's countenance was neither affirmative nor negative of this proposition. 'But, continued Mr. Barton, 'if you will be a good boy, God will love you, and you will grow up to be a good man.
"If I'd thought," said Spratt angrily in the privacy of the Orpheum office, "that you were sucker enough to get roped in for the full season, I'd have tossed you out of the running for this week. This game is a bigger gamble than the Stock Exchange. The smartest producers in the business never know when they have a winner or a loser.
"Who's running the show?" demanded Spratt. "Their manager decamped with the money with what little there was," explained Bobby, "and they came to me by accident. I understand you have an open date next week." "It's not open now," declared Spratt. "The date is filled with the Neapolitan Grand Opera Company." "There doesn't seem to be much use of my talking, then," said Bobby, smiling.
His measures had a good effect, for Spratt told him that all the men had taken off their clothes, and gone quietly to their berths, showing that they had no thoughts of putting their scheme into execution that night. "Forewarned, forearmed," observed Mr Henley; "it will be our own fault if they overpower us."
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