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I cud see O'Hara in the light av the veranda lamp, an' thin I heard the crack av my rifle. She cried loud, poor darlint, bein' mishandled. Next minut' five men were houldin' me down. 'Go easy, I sez; 'fwhat's ut all about? "Thin Vulmea, on the flure, raised a howl you cud hear from wan ind av cantonmints to the other. 'I'm dead, I'm butchered, I'm blind! sez he.
"Well, lave ut go at that. Wait 'til ye know him. But fwhat's this yer tellin' me about a kid? The Seer has no family at all but himsilf an' his job." Texas grinned. "Maybe not, pard; but he's sure got together part of a family this trip." "Is ut a gurl, or a bhoy?" "Boy 'bout a ten-year-old, I'd say." The Irishman shook his head doubtfully. "I dunno. 'Tis a quare thing for the Seer.
'Just thin Crook comes up, blue an' white all over where he wasn't red. "Wather!" sez he; "I'm dead wid drouth! Oh, but it's a gran' day!" 'He dhrank half a skinful, and the rest he tilts into his chest, an' it fair hissed on the hairy hide av him. He sees the little orf'cer bhoy undher the Sargint. "Fwhat's yonder?" sez he.
"An' mark me," said Kate, "I'll take care of the man that done for him. I know him well, betther than he suspects, an' can make him sup sorrow whenever I like an' would, too, only for one thing." "An' fwhat's dhat wan thing?" asked Phats.
'I tould you I was Cain, sez Love-o'-Women. 'Fwhat's the use av killin' him? He's an honest man by compare. "I was not dishputin' about the morils av Paythans that tide, so I dhropped Love-o'-Women's burt acrost the man's face, an' 'Hurry into camp, I sez, 'for this may be the first av a rush. "There was no rush afther all, though we waited undher arms to give thim a chanst.
There was a burst of spray as the hatch opened, and Disko, in yellow oilskins, descended. "Ye're just in time, Disko. Fwhat's she doin' outside?" "Jest this!" He dropped on to the lockers with the push and heave of the We're Here. "We're singin' to kape our breakfasts down. Ye'll lead, av course, Disko," said Long Jack.
'Ye'll have a Disthrict Coort-martial settin' on ye yet, me son, said Mulvaney, 'but' he opened a bottle 'I will not report ye this time. Fwhat's in the mess-kid is mint for the belly, as they say, 'specially whin that mate is dhrink. Here's luck! A bloody war or a no, we've got the sickly season. War, thin! he waved the innocent 'pop' to the four quarters of Heaven. 'Bloody war!
"Fwhat tailor-men do they give me to work wid?" sez the Arm'rer Sargint. "Here's Hogan, his nose flat as a table, laid by for a week, an' ivry Comp'ny sendin' their arrums in knocked to small shivreens." "Fwhat's wrong wid Hogan, Sargint?" sez I. "Wrong!" sez the Arm'rer Sargint; "I showed him, as though I had been his mother, the way av shtrippin' a 'Tini, an' he shtrup her clane an' easy.
Long Jack stood it in silence for a time, an angry skipper makes an unhappy crew, and then he spoke across the table after supper: "Fwhat's the good o' bodderin' fwhat they'll say?" said he. "They'll tell that tale agin us fer years that's all," said Disko. "Oil-cake sprinkled!" "With salt, o' course," said Salters, impenitent, reading the farming reports from a week-old New York paper.
Could I tell Ortheris anything that he did not know of the pleasures of his life? I was not a Chaplain nor a Subaltern, and Ortheris had a right to speak as he thought fit. "Let him run, Mulvaney," I said. "It's the beer." "'No! 'Tisn't the beer," said Mulvaney. "I know fwhat's comin'. He's tuk this way now an' agin, an' it's bad it's bad for I'm fond av the bhoy."
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