'Nothing it is.

So! steady! There's a son gone: pretty little creetur.

Ain't there ?' 'Yes, there's a son gone,' said the acquiescent Carker.
'Pass the word, and there's another ready for you,' quoth the Captain.
'Nevy of a scientific Uncle! Nevy of Sol Gills! Wal'r! Wal'r, as is already in your business! And'-- said the Captain, rising gradually to a quotation he was preparing for a final burst, 'who--comes from Sol Gills's daily, to your business, and your buzzums.' The Captain's complacency as he gently jogged Mr Carker with his elbow, on concluding each of the foregoing short sentences, could be surpassed by nothing but the exultation with which he fell back and eyed him when he had finished this brilliant display of eloquence and sagacity; his great blue waistcoat heaving with the throes of such a masterpiece, and his nose in a state of violent inflammation from the same cause.
'Am I right ?' said the Captain.
'Captain Cuttle,' said Mr Carker, bending down at the knees, for a moment, in an odd manner, as if he were falling together to hug the whole of himself at once, 'your views in reference to Walter Gay are thoroughly and accurately right.

I understand that we speak together in confidence.
'Honour!' interposed the Captain.

'Not a word.' 'To him or anyone ?' pursued the Manager.
Captain Cuttle frowned and shook his head.
'But merely for your own satisfaction and guidance--and guidance, of course,' repeated Mr Carker, 'with a view to your future proceedings.' 'Thank'ee kindly, I am sure,' said the Captain, listening with great attention.
'I have no hesitation in saying, that's the fact.