Chapter 8: In which several weeks are supposed to elapse; and our hero isdiscovered in the Doldrums.
The Good Intent lay becalmed in the doldrums. There was not wind enoughto puff out a candle flame. The sails hung limp and idle from the masts,yet the vessel rolled as in a storm, heaving on a tremendous swell soviolently that it would seem her masts must be shaken out of her. The airwas sweltering, the sky the color of burnished copper, out of which thesun beat remorselessly in almost perpendicular beams. Pitch ran fromevery seam of the decks, great blisters like bubbles rose upon thewoodwork; the decks were no sooner swabbed than--presto!--it was asthough they had not known the touch of water for an age.
For three weeks she had lain thus. Sometimes the hot day would besucceeded by a night of terrible storm, thunder crashing around, thewhole vault above lacerated by lightning, and rain pouring as it were outof the fissures in sheets. But in a day all traces of the storm woulddisappear, and if, meanwhile, a sudden breath of wind had carried thevessel a few knots on her southward course, the hopes thus raised wouldprove illusory, and once more she would lie on a sea of molten lead, or,still worse, would be rocked on a long swell that had all the discomfortsof a gale without its compensating excitement.
The tempers of officers and crew had gone from bad to worse. The officerssnapped and snarled at one another, and treated the men with even morethan the customary brutality of the merchant marine of those days. Thecrew, lounging about half naked on the decks, seeking what shelter theycould get from the pitiless sun, with little to do and no spirit to doanything, quarreled among themselves, growling at the unnecessary tasksset them merely to keep them from flying at each other's throats.
The Good Intent was a fine three-masted vessel of nearly four hundredtons, large for those days, though the new East Indiamen approached fivehundred tons. When her keel was laid for the Honorable East India Companysome twenty years earlier, she had been looked on as one of the finestmerchant vessels afloat; but the buffeting of wind and wave in a score ofvoyages to the eastern seas, and the more insidious and equallydestructive attacks of worms and dry rot, had told upon her timbers. Shehad been sold off and purchased by Captain Barker, who was one of theclass known as "interlopers," men who made trading voyages to the EastIndies on their own account, running the risk of their vessels beingseized and themselves penalized for infringing the Company's monopoly.She was now filled with a miscellaneous cargo: wine in chests, beer andcider in bottles, hats, worsted stockings, wigs, small shot, lead, iron,knives, glass, hubblebubbles, cochineal, sword blades, toys, coarsecloth, woolen goods--anything that would find a market among the Europeanmerchants, the native princes, or the trading classes of India. There wasalso a large consignment of muskets and ammunition. When Desmond askedthe second mate where they were going, the reply was that if he asked noquestions he would be told no lies.
On this sultry afternoon a group of seamen, clad in nothing but shirt andbreeches, were lolling, lying crouching on the deck forward, circledaround Bulger. Seated on an upturned tub, he was busily engaged inbaiting a hook. Tired of the "Irish horse" and salt pork that formed thestaple of the sailors' food, he was taking advantage of the calm to fishfor bonitos, a large fish over two feet long, the deadly enemy of thebeautiful flying fish that every now and then fell panting upon the deckin their mad flight from marine foes. The bait was made to resemble theflying fish itself, the hook being hidden by white rag stuffing, withfeathers pricked in to counterfeit spiked fins.
As the big seaman deftly worked with iron hook and right hand, he spunyarns for the delectation of his mates. They chewed tobacco, listened,laughed, sneered, as their temper inclined them. Only one of the groupgave him rapt and undivided attention--a slim youth, with hollow sunburntcheeks, long bleached hair, and large gleaming eyes. His neck and armswere bare, and the color of boiled lobsters; but, unlike the rest, he hadno tattoo marks pricked into his skin. His breeches were tatters, hisstriped shirt covered with party-colored darns.
"Ay, as I was saying," said Bulger, "'twas in these latitudes, on my lastvoyage but three. I was in a Bristol ship a-carryin' of slaves fromGuinea to the plantations. Storms!--I never seed such storms nowhere; andcontrariwise, calms enough to make a Quaker sick. In course the water wasshort, an' scurvy come aboard, an' 'twas a hammock an' round shot for oneor the other of us every livin' day. As reg'lar as the mornin' watch thesharks came for their breakfast; we could see 'em comin' from all p'intso' the compass; an' sure as seven bells struck there they was, ten deep,with jaws wide open, like Parmiter's there when there's a go of grog tobe sarved out. We was all like the livin' skellington at Bartlemy Fair,and our teeth droppin' out that fast, they pattered like hailstones onthe deck."
"How did you stick 'em in again?" interrupted Parmiter, anxious to geteven with Bulger for the allusion to his gaping jaw. He was a thick set,ugly fellow, his face seamed with scars, his mouth twisted, his earsdragged at the lobes by heavy brass rings.
"With glue made out of albacores we caught, to be sure. Well, as I wassaying, we was so weak there wasn't a man aboard could reach the maintop,an' the man at the wheel had two men to hold him up. Things was so, thus,an' in such case, when, about eight hells one arternoon, the lookout atthe masthead--"
"Thought you couldn't climb? How'd he get there?" said the same skeptic.
"Give me time, Parmiter, and you'll know all about the hows an' whys,notwithstandin's and sobeits. He'd been there for a week, for why? 'coshe couldn't get down. We passed him up a quarter pint o' water and abiscuit or two every day by a halyard.
"Well, as I was sayin', all at once the lookout calls out, 'Landho!'--leastways he croaked it, 'cos what with weakness and little waterour throats was as dry as last year's biscuit.
"'Where away?' croaks first mate, which I remember his name was Tonking.
"And there, sure enough, we seed a small island, which it might be aquarter-mile long. Now, mind you, we hadn't made a knot for three weeks.How did that island come there so sudden like? In course, it must ha'come up from the bottom o' the sea. And as we was a-lookin' at it we sawit grow, mateys--long spits o' land shootin' out this side, that side,and t'other side--and the whole concarn begins to move towards us, comin'on, hand over hand, slow, dead slow, but sure and steady. Our jaws werejust a-droppin' arter our teeth when fust mate busts out in a laugh; bythunder, I remember that there laugh today! 'twas like--well, I don'tknow what 'twas like, if not the scrapin' of a handsaw; an' says he, 'ByNeptune, 'tis a darned monstrous squid!'
"And, sure enough, that was what it was, a squid as big round as the Isleo' Wight, with arms that ud reach from Wapping Stairs to Bugsby Marshes,and just that curly shape. An' what was more, 'twas steerin' straight forus. Ay, mateys, 'twas a horrible moment!"
The seamen, even Parmiter the scoffer, were listening open mouthed, whena hoarse voice broke the spell, cutting short Bulger's story anddispersing the group.
"Here you, Burke, you, up aloft and pay the topmost with grease. I'llhave no lazy lubbers aboard my ship, I tell you. I've got no use fornobody too good for his berth. No Jimmy Duffs for me! Show a leg, or, byheavens, I'll show you a rope's end and make my mark--mind that, my lad!"
Captain Barker turned to the man at his side.
"'Twas an ill turn you did me and the ship's company, Mr. Diggle,bringing this useless lubber aboard."
"It does appear so, captain," said Diggle sorrowfully. "But 'tis hisfirst voyage, sir: discipline--a little discipline!"
Meanwhile Desmond, without a word, had moved away to obey orders. He hadlong since found the uselessness of protest. Diggle had taken him onboard the Good Intent an hour before sailing. He left him to himselfuntil the vessel was well out in the mouth of the Thames, and then camewith a rueful countenance and explained that, after all his endeavors,the owners had absolutely refused to accept so youthful a fellow assupercargo. Desmond felt his cheeks go pale.
"What am I to be, then?" he asked quietly.
"Well, my dear boy, Captain Barker i
s rather short of apprentices, and hehas no objection to taking you in place of one if you will make yourselfuseful. He is a first-rate seaman. You will imbibe a vast deal of usefulknowledge and gain a free passage, and when we reach the Indies I shallbe able, I doubt not, by means of my connections, to assist you in thefirst steps of what, I trust, will prove a successful career."
"Then, who is supercargo?"
"Unluckily that greatness has been thrust upon me. Unluckily, I say; forthe office is not one that befits a former fellow of King's College atCambridge. Yet there is an element of good luck in it, too; for, as youknow, my fortunes were at a desperately low ebb, and the emoluments ofthis office, while not great, will stand me in good stead when we reachour destination, and enable me to set you, my dear boy--to borrow fromthe vernacular--on your legs."
"You have deceived me, then!"
"Nay, nay, you do bear me hard, young man. To be disappointed is not thesame thing as to be deceived. True, you are not, as I hoped, supercargo,but the conditions are not otherwise altered. You wished to go toIndia--well, Zephyr's jocund breezes, as Catullus hath it, will waft youthither: we are flying to the bright cities of the East. No fragile barkis this, carving a dubious course through the main, as Seneca, I think,puts it. No, 'tis an excellent vessel, with an excellent captain, whowill steer a certain course, who fears not the African blast nor thegrisly Hyades nor the fury of Notus--"
Desmond did not await the end of Diggle's peroration. It was then toolate to repine. The vessel was already rounding the Foreland, and thoughhe was more than half convinced that he had been decoyed on board onfalse pretenses, he could not divine any motive on Diggle's part, andhoped that his voyage would be not much less pleasant than he hadanticipated.
But even before the Good Intent made the Channel he was woefullyundeceived. His first interview with the captain opened his eyes. CaptainBarker was a small, thin, sandy man, with a large upper lip that met thelower in a straight line, a lean nose, and eyes perpetually bloodshot.His manner was that of a bully of the most brutal kind. He browbeat hisofficers, cuffed and kicked his men, in his best days a martinet, in hisworst a madman. The only good point about him was that he never used thecat, which, as Bulger said, was a mercy.
"Humph!" he said when Desmond was presented to him. "You're him, are you?Well, let me tell you this, my lad: the ship's boy on board this 'ereship have got to do what he's bid, and no mistake about it. If he don't,I'll make him. Now, you go for'ard into the galley and scrape the slushoff the cook's pans; quick's the word."
From that day Desmond led a dog's life. He found that as ship's boy hewas at the beck and call of the whole company. The officers, with theexception of Mr. Toley, the melancholy first mate, took their cue fromthe captain; and Mr. Toley, as a matter of policy, never took his partopenly. The men resented his superior manners and the fact that he wassocially above them. The majority of the seamen were even more ruffianlythan the specimens he had seen at the Waterman's Rest--the scum ofWapping and Rotherhithe. His only real friend on board was Bulger, whohelped him to master the many details of a sailor's work, and oftenprotected him against the ill treatment of his mates; and, in spite ofhis one arm, Bulger was a power to be reckoned with.
At the best of times the life of a sailor was hard, and Desmond found itat first almost intolerable. Irregular sleep on an uncomfortable hammock,wedged in with the other members of the crew, bad food, and over exertiontold upon his frame. From the moment when all hands were piped to lashhammocks to the moment when the signal was given for turning in, it wasone long round of thankless drudgery. But he proved himself to be veryquick and nimble. Before long, no one could lash his hammock with theseven turns in a shorter time than he. After learning the work on themainsails and trysails he was sent to practise the more acrobatic dutiesin the tops, and when two months had passed, no one excelled him inquickness aloft.
If his work had been confined to the ordinary seaman's duties he wouldhave been fairly content, for there is always a certain pleasure inaccomplishment, and the consciousness of growing skill and power was somecompensation for the hardships he had to undergo. But he had to do dirtywork for the cook, clean out the styes of the captain's pigs, swab thelower deck, sometimes descend on errands for one or other to the nauseoushold.
Perhaps the badness of the food was the worst evil to a boy accustomed toplain but good country fare. The burgoo or oatmeal gruel served atbreakfast made him sick; he knew how it had been made in the cook's dirtypans. The "Irish horse" and salt pork for dinner soon became distasteful;it was not in the best condition when brought aboard, and before long itbecame putrid. The strong cheese for supper was even more horrible. Helived for the most part on the tough sea biscuit of mixed wheat and peaflour, and on the occasional duffs of flour boiled with fat, which didduty as pudding. For drink he had nothing but small beer; the water inthe wooden casks was full of green, grassy, slimy things. But the freshsea air seemed to be a food itself; and though Desmond became lean andhollow cheeked, his muscles developed and hardened. Little deservingCaptain Barker's ill-tempered abuse, he became handy in many ways onboard, and proved to be the possessor of a remarkably keen pair of eyes.
When, in obedience to the captain's orders, he was greasing the mast, hisattention was caught by three or four specks on the horizon.
"Sail ho!" he called to the officer of the watch.
"Where away?" was the reply.
"On the larboard quarter, sir; three or four sail, I think."
The officer at once mounted the shrouds and took a long look at thespecks Desmond pointed out, while the crew below crowded to the bulwarksand eagerly strained their eyes in the same direction.
"What do you make of 'em, Mr. Sunman?" asked the captain.
"Three or four sail, sir, sure enough. They are hull down; there's not adoubt but they're bringing the wind with 'em."
"Hurray!" shouted the men, overjoyed at the prospect of moving at last.
In a couple of hours the strangers had become distinctly visible, and thefirst faint puffs of the approaching breeze caused the sails to flaplazily against the yards. Then the canvas filled out, and at last, afternearly a fortnight's delay, the Good Intent began to slip through thewater at three or four knots.
The wind freshened during the night, and next morning the Good Intent wasbowling along under single-reefed topsails. The ships sighted the nightbefore had disappeared, to the evident relief of Captain Barker. Whetherthey were Company's vessels or privateers he had no wish to come to closequarters with them.
After breakfast, when the watch on deck were busy about the rigging orthe guns, or the hundred and one details of a sailor's work, the rest ofthe crew had the interval till dinner pretty much to themselves. Someslept, some reeled out yarns to their messmates, others mended theirclothes.
It happened one day that Desmond, sitting in the forecastle among the menof his mess, was occupied in darning a pair of breeches for Parmiter. Itwas the one thing he could not do satisfactorily; and one of the men,after quizzically observing his well meant but ludicrous attempts, atlast caught up the garment and held it aloft, calling his mates'attention to it with a shout of laughter.
Parmiter chanced to be coming along at the moment. Hearing the laugh, andseeing the pitiable object of it, he flew into a rage, sprang at Desmond,and knocked him down.
"What do you mean, you clumsy young lubber, you," he cried, "by treatingmy smalls like that? I'll brain you, sure as my name's Parmiter!"
Desmond had already suffered not a little at Parmiter's hands. Hisendurance was at an end. Springing up with flaming cheeks he leapedtowards the bully, and putting in practice the methods he had learned inmany a hard-fought mill at Mr. Burslem's school, he began to punish theoffender. His muscles were in good condition; Parmiter was too muchaddicted to grog to make a steady pugilist; and though he was naturallymuch the stronger man, he was totally unable to cope with his agileantagonist.
A few rounds settled the matter; Parmiter had to confess t
hat he had hadenough, and Desmond, flinging his breeches to him, sat down tinglingamong his mates, who greeted the close of the fight with spontaneous andunrestrained applause.
Next day Parmiter was in the foretop splicing the forestay. Desmond waswalking along the deck when suddenly he felt his arm clutched frombehind, and he was pulled aside so violently by Bulger's hook that hestumbled and fell at full length. At the same moment something struck thedeck with a heavy thud.
"By thunder! 'twas a narrow shave," said Bulger. "See that, matey?"
Looking in the direction Bulger pointed, he saw that the foretopsailsheet block had fallen on deck, within an inch of where he would havebeen but for the intervention of Bulger's hook. Glancing aloft, he sawParmiter grinning down at him.
"Hitch that block to a halyard, youngster," said the man.
Desmond was on the point of refusing; the man, he thought, might at leasthave apologized: but reflecting that a refusal would entail a complaintto the captain, and a subsequent flogging, he bit his lips, fastened theblock, and went on his way.
"'Tis my belief 'twas no accident," said Bulger afterwards. "I may bewrong, but Parmiter bears a grudge against you. And he and that there Mr.Diggle is too thick by half. I never could make out why Diggle diddledyou about that supercargo business; he don't mean you no kindness, youmay be sure; and when you see two villains like him and Parmiter puttin'their heads together, look out for squalls, that's what I say."
Desmond was inclined to laugh; the idea seemed preposterous.
"Why are you so suspicious of Mr. Diggle?" he said. "He has not kept hispromise, that's true, and I am sorry enough I ever listened to him. Butthat doesn't prove him to be an out-and-out villain. I've noticed thatyou keep out of his way. Do you know anything of him? Speak out plainly,man."
"Well, I'll tell you what I knows about him."
He settled himself against the mast, gave a final polish to his hook withholystone, and using the hook every now and then to punctuate hisnarrative, began.
"Let me see, 'twas a matter o' three years ago. I was bo'sun on theSwallow, a spanker she was, chartered by the Company, London to Calcutta.There was none of the doldrums that trip, dodged 'em fair an' square; atopsail breeze to the Cape, and then the fust of the monsoon to theHugli. We lay maybe a couple of months at Calcutta, when what should I dobut take aboard a full dose of the cramp, just as the Swallow was in amanner of speakin' on the wing. Not but what it sarved me right, for whatbusiness had I at my time of life to be wastin' shore leave by poppin' atlittle dicky birds in the dirty slimy jheels, as they call 'em, roundabout Calcutta!
"Well, I was put ashore, as was on'y natural, and 'twas a marvel I pulledthrough--for it en't many as take the cramp in Bengal and live to tellit. The Company, I'll say that for 'em, was very kind; I had the best o'nussin' and vittles; but when I found my legs again there I was, as onemight say, high and dry, for there was no Company's ship ready to sail.So I got leave to sign on a country ship, bound for Canton; and wedropped down the Hugli with enough opium on board to buy up the lordmayor and a baker's dozen of aldermen.
"Nearly half a mile astern was three small country ships, such as mightcreep round the coast to Chittagong, dodgin' the pirates o' theSandarbands if they was lucky, and gettin' their weazands slit if theywasn't. They drew less water than us, and was generally handier in theriver, which is uncommon full of shoals and sandbanks; but for all that Iremember they was still maybe half a mile astern when we droppedanchor--anchors, I should say--for the night, some way below DiamondHarbor. But to us white men the way o' these Moors is always a bag o'mystery, and as seamen they en't anyway of much account. Well, it mightbe about seven bells, and my watch below, when I was woke by a mosttremenjous bangin' and hullabaloo. We tumbles up mighty sharp, and wellwe did, for there was one of these country fellows board and board withus, and another foulin' our hawser. Their grapnels came whizzin' aboard;but the first lot couldn't take a hold nohow, and she dropped downstream.That gave us a chance to be ready for the other. She got a grip of us andheld on like a shark what grabs you by the legs. But pistols and pikeshad been sarved out, and when they came bundlin' over into the foc'sle,we bundled 'em back into the Hugli, and you may be sure they wasn'texactly seaworthy when they got there. They was a mixed lot; that we soonfound out by their manner o' swearin' as they slipped by the board, foralthough there was Moors among 'em, most of 'em was Frenchies orDutchmen, and considerin' they wasn't Englishmen they made a good fightof it. But over they went, until only a few was left; and we was justabout to finish 'em off, when another country ship dropped alongside, andbefore we knew where we was a score of yellin' ruffians was into thewaist and rushin' us in the stern sheets, as you might say. We had tofight then, by thunder! we did.
"The odds was against us now, and we was catchin' it from two sides. Butour blood was up, and we knew what to expect if they beat us. 'Twas theHugli for every man Jack of us, and no mistake. There was no orders,every man for himself, with just enough room and no more to see themounseers in front of him. Some of us--I was one of 'em--fixed the flintsof the pirates for'ard, while the rest faced round and kept the othersoff. Then we went at 'em, and as they couldn't all get at us at the sametime, owing to the deck being narrow, the odds was not so bad arter all.'Twas now hand to hand, fist to fist, one for you and one for me; youfound a Frenchman and stuck to him till you finished him off, or hefinished you, as the case might be, in a manner of speakin'. Well, Ifound one lanky chap--he was number four that night--and all in tenminutes, as it were, I jabbed a pike at him, and missed, for it was hardto keep footin' on the wet deck, though the wet was not Hugli water;thick as it is, this was thicker--and he fired a pistol at me by way ofthank you. I saw his figurehead in the flash, and I shan't forget iteither, for he left me this to remember him by, though I didn't know itat the time."
Here Bulger held up the iron hook that did duty for his left forearm.Then glancing cautiously around, he added in a whisper:
"'Twas Diggle--or I'm a Dutchman. That was my fust meetin' with him. Ofcourse, I'm in a way helpless now, being on the ship's books, and he in amanner of speakin' an orficer; but one of these days there'll be areckonin', or my name en't Bulger."
The boatswain brought down his fist with a resounding whack on thescuttle butt, threatening to stave in the top of the barrel.
"And how did the fight end?" asked Desmond.
"We drove 'em back bit by bit, and fairly wore 'em down. They weren't allsailormen, or we couldn't have done it, for they had the numbers; but anEnglishman on his own ship is worth any two furriners--aye, half a dozensome do say, though I wouldn't go so far as that myself--and at the lastsome of them turned tail and bolted back. The ship's boy, what was in theshrouds, saw 'em on the run and set up a screech: 'Hooray! hooray!' Thatwas all we wanted. We hoorayed too; and went at 'em in such a slap-banggo-to-glory way that in a brace of shakes there wasn't a Frenchman, aDutchman, nor a Moor on board. They cut the grapnels and floated clear,and next mornin' we saw 'em on their beam ends on a sandbank a mile downthe river. That's how I fust come across Mr. Diggle; I may be wrong, butI says it again: look out for squalls."
For some days the wind held fair, and the ship being now in the maintrack of the trades, all promised well for a quick run to the Cape. Butsuddenly there was a change; a squall struck the vessel from thesouthwest. Captain Barker, catching sight of Desmond and a seaman near athand, shouted:
"Furl the top-gallant sail, you two. Now show a leg, or, by thunder, themasts will go by the board."
Springing up the shrouds on the weather side, Desmond was quickest aloft.He crawled out on the yard, the wind threatening every moment to tear himfrom his dizzy, rocking perch, and began with desperate energy to furlthe straining canvas. It was hard work, and but for the development ofhis muscles during the past few months, and a naturally cool head, thetask would have been beyond his powers. But setting his teeth andexerting his utmost strength, he accomplished his share of it as quicklyas the able seaman
on the lee yard.
The sail was half furled when all at once the mast swung through a hugearc; the canvas came with tremendous force against the cross trees, andDesmond, flung violently outwards, found himself swinging in midair,clinging desperately to the leech of the sail. With a convulsive movementhe grasped at a loose gasket above him, and catching a grip, wound ittwice or thrice round his arm. The strain was intense; the gasket wasthin and cut deeply into the flesh; he knew that should it give waynothing could save him. So he hung, the wind howling around him, theyards rattling, the boisterous sea below heaving as if to clutch him anddrag him to destruction.
A few seconds passed, every one of which seemed an eternity. Then throughthe noise he heard shouts on deck. The vessel suddenly swung over, andDesmond's body inclined towards instead of from the mast. Shooting outhis arm he caught at the yard, seized it, and held on, though it seemedthat his arm must be wrenched from the socket. In a few moments hesucceeded in clambering on to the yard, where he clung, endeavoring toregain his breath and his senses.
Then he completed his job, and with a sense of unutterable relief sliddown to the deck. A strange sight met his eyes. Bulger and Parmiter werelying side by side; there was blood on the deck; and Captain Barker stoodover them with a marlinspike, his eyes blazing, his face distorted withpassion. In consternation Desmond slipped out of the way, and asked thefirst man he met for an explanation.
It appeared that Parmiter, who was at the wheel when the squall struckthe ship, had put her in stays before the sail was furled, with theresult that she heeled over and Desmond had narrowly escaped being flunginto the sea. Seeing the boy's plight, Bulger had sprung forward, and,knocking Parmiter from the wheel, had put the vessel on the other tack,thus giving Desmond the one chance of escape which, fortunately, he hadbeen able to seize. The captain had been incensed to a blind fury, firstwith Parmiter for acting without orders and then with Bulger forinterfering with the man at the wheel. In a paroxysm of madness heattacked both men with a spike; the ship was left without a helmsman, andnothing but the promptitude of the melancholy mate, who had rushedforward and taken the abandoned wheel himself, had saved the vessel fromthe imminent risk of carrying away her masts.
Later in the day, when the squall and the captain's rage had subsided,the incident was talked over by a knot of seamen in the forecastle.
"You may say what you like," said one, "but I hold to it that Parmitermeant to knock young Burke into the sea. For why else did he put the shipin stays? He en't a fool, en't Parmiter."
"Ay," said another, "and arter that there business with the block, eh?One and one make two; that's twice the youngster has nigh gone to DavyJones through Parmiter, and it en't in reason that sich-like thingsshould allers happen to the same party."
"But what's the reason?" asked a third. "What call has Parmiter to havesuch a desperate spite against Burke? He got a lickin', in course, butwhat's a lickin' to a Englishman? Rot it all, the youngster en't a badmatey. He've led a dog's life, that he have, and I've never heard agrumble, nary one; have you?"
"True," said the first. "And I tell you what it is. I believe Bulger's inthe right of it, and 'tis all along o' that there Diggle, hang him! He'stoo perlite by half, with his smile and his fine lingo and all. Andwhat's he keep his hand wropt up in that there velvet mitten thing for?I'd like to know that. There's summat mortal queer about Diggle, mark mywords, and we'll find it out if we live long enough."
"Wasn't it Diggle brought Burke aboard?"
"Course it was; that's what proves it, don't you see? He stuffs him up ashe's to be supercargo; call that number one. He brings him aboard andmakes him ship boy; that's number two. He looks us all up and down withthose rat's eyes of his, and thinks we're a pretty ugly lot, and Parmiterthe ugliest, how's that for number three? Then he makes hissel sweet toParmiter; I've seed him more'n once; that's number four. Then there'sthat there block: five; and today's hanky panky: six; and it wants onemore to make seven, and that's the perfect number, I've heard tell, 'coso' the Seven Champions o' Christendom."
"I guess you've reasoned that out mighty well," drawled the melancholyvoice of Mr. Toley, who had come up unseen and heard the last speech."Well, I'll give you number seven."
"Thunder and blazes, sir, he en't bin and gone and done it already?"
"No, he en't. Number seven is, be kind o' tender with young Burke. Countthem words. He's had enough kicks. That's all."
And the melancholy man went away as silently as he had come.
In Clive's Command: A Story of the Fight for India Page 10