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Updated: June 11, 2025
"By Jove, she wants to speak us; something must be up!" said the commander who had come on deck in the meanwhile. "Go below, Vernon, and tell the cap'en at once." "Confound those mounseers," I heard Mr Stormcock say to the master as I came out from Captain Farmer's cabin. "I wonder what they want to stop us for now, just as we were getting clear of Ushant? It's sure to bring us bad luck!"
"That's me," answered Captain Sam, returning. "Cap'en," said Mrs. Simmons, in a voice in which solemnity and excitement struggled for the mastery, "hez the Lord sent His angel unto you?" "He hez," replied the captain, in a very decided tone, and abruptly turned, and hurried to his own room. "Bless the Lord, O my soul!" almost shouted Mrs. Simmons, in her ecstacy.
"Steady there, please," Faircloth put in sharply. "It strikes me you take a good deal upon yourself. May I ask who you are?" "I am the assistant priest," Reginald began. But his explanation was cut short by piping voices. "It's Cap'en Darcy, that's who it is. We never meant no 'arm, Cap'en. That we didn't. The apples was rotting on the ground, s'h'lp me if they wasn't.
I walked out of the cabin as he spoke, and the man he referred to came up to me at once. "Beg pardon, sir," said he, civilly, touching his forelock in salute. "Mr Vernon, sir, I believe?" "Yes," I replied, rather anxious to learn what was wanted of me, "that is my name." "Cap'en Farmer presents his compliments, sir, and requests the pleasure of your company to dinner this evening."
"Ay, ay, sir," he shouted, going down on one knee to point the little gun. "Sarvice!" There was a growl from forward, and Neb Dumlow came limping from the galley, along the narrow piece of deck, by where the steam still rose, and flourishing a red-hot poker, hurried to our side. "Cap'en o' the gun says Stand well from behind; keep alongside, 'cause she kicks. One moment. I can't get no better aim.
Simmons." "An angel! Oh, cap'en, how richly blessed you hev been!" sobbed Mrs. Simmons. "Many's the one that hez prayed all their lives long for the comin' of a good sperrit to guide 'em." "Well, I've got one, sure pop," continued Captain Sam; "and happy ain't any kind of a name fur what I be all the time now." "Bless you!" said the good woman, wringing the captain's hand fervidly.
"Yes, sir Cap'en Mordaunt, I means, sir," replied father. "I've got one darter as is older; but he's my only son." "How old is he now?" "Fifteen years an' ten months," said father, after careful consideration and much counting on his fingers. "He'll be sixteen next April, on `Primrose Day, as they call it." "Another Tom Bowling, eh?" "Yes, sir," said father.
"If you're a sailor, the place for you is the navy," he remarked in a superior manner. "As for the cavalry, the Cap'en, as you call him, ought to have more sense " Chipmunk rose and swung his long arms threateningly. "Look 'ere, young feller, do you want to have your blinkin' 'ead knocked orf? Where the Cap'en goes, I goes, and don't you make any mistake about it!"
"I don't put the noes," continued Whitey, "because I'm a peaceable man, and don't want to hev to kick any man mean enough to vote no. Cap'en, you'r boss of this camp, and I'm yourn obediently." The captain opened his eyes slowly, and replied: "I'm much obliged, boys, but I won't give Whitey the trouble. Doctor's mistaken there's someting broken inside, and I haven't got many minutes more to live."
Captain Zeb stood up and stared, with his big forehead coming out under his hat, and his golden beard shining in the morning sun; but the only satisfaction for his eyes was the back of his son growing smaller and smaller. "Chip of the old block!" "Sarve 'ee right, Cap'en!"
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