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Updated: June 29, 2025
We've engaged a city-barge to pull us back. Eight oars I'm not sure it isn't sixteen. Come the word!" Adrian was for going. Richard said he had an appointment with Ripton. "You're in for another rick, you two," said Adrian. "Arrange that we go. You haven't seen the cockney's Paradise. Abjure Blazes, and taste of peace, my son."
He was a poisonous bore, and always popped up for a drink. By the way, he wears a monocle." "You've named him," went on the consul. "That's more of the cockney's pretense. Here's the poem he wrote in the calaboose. He did it on his shirt-front because the economical French gave him no paper.
She went upstairs with flaming cheeks, and draped the cloth across the hand basin in the bathroom, turning the tap vengefully. A stream of water flowed through the wide stain. "There's more real kindness in that poor little Cockney's finger than there is in your whole body!"
"This is the Cockney's antithesis to the moonlight and hills of you country folk," Nora observed, as she pointed to the yellow lights gashing across the black water. Tallente drew a long breath of content. "It's good to be here, anyway. I am glad to be out of that house," he confessed. "I'm afraid," she sighed, "that our dear host's party was a failure.
Rawling's foot caught in the doorway of the bright hall, and he stumbled, the light dazzling on the cockney's wet bulk hurling itself toward the great woman where she stood, her arms flung cruciform, guarding the empty room. The bodies met with a fearful jar as Rawling staggered up, and there came a crisp explosion before he could raise his hand.
The wide, thin-lipped Cockney mouth grinned a little consciously as W. Keyse jerked his thumb towards the still vibrating doors of the saloon. "Reg'ler 'ornets' nest o' Dutchies. And I was up agynst it, an' no mistyke, when you rallied up. An', Mister, you're a Fair Old Brick, an' if you've no objection to shykin' 'ands ...?" But the big man did not seem to see the little Cockney's offered hand.
The peculiar pronunciation of vowels is what characterizes a true Cockney's speech, but many others drop h's the people of Shropshire for instance. "Do you children remember those quaint little verses about Bow Bells?" continued Mrs. Pitt.
But the big jasper in my watch, Newman, went into the foc'sle and squelched the scheme with a word. He clapped a stopper on the Cockney's jaw, and told the squareheads there was to be no trouble. So there will be none, Captain." A black curse slid out of the skipper's mouth. Aye, the man breathed fury. "So he commands for'ard, eh?" he said. "Well, I command aft."
Just a few days before the mate was ready to shoot Holy Joe for going below during his watch on deck, but he never bothered his head about Cockney's much worse offense. In fact, during these strange days he seemed not to bother his head about anything his men did.
As a lady's lap-dog Leonard did not excel. He was not an Italian, still less a Frenchman, in whose blood there runs the very spirit of persiflage and of gracious repartee. His wit was the Cockney's; it opened no doors into imagination, and Helen was drawn up short by "The more a lady has to say, the better," administered waggishly. "Oh, yes," she said. "Ladies brighten " "Yes, I know.
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