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Updated: May 11, 2025
"Keep still, Cap'n," said Bob, taking my hand from the fillet and placing it by my side. "Och! by my sowl, he's over it; thank the Lord for His goodness!" said Chane, an Irish soldier. "Over what? what has happened to me?" I inquired. "Och, Captin, yer honour, you've been nearly murthered, and all by thim Frinch scoundhrels; bad luck to their dirty frog-atin' picthers!" "Murdered!
The iguana was soon skinned and broiled, and we all of us commenced eating with good appetites. "Be Saint Pathrick!" said Chane, "this bates frog-atin' all hollow. It's little meself dhramed, on the Owld Sod, hearin' of thim niggers in furrin parts, that I'd be turning kannybawl meself some day!" "Don't you like it, Murtagh?" asked Raoul jocosely.
"Kape cool!" cried the latter, springing out of reach of his assailant; and with his own blade bared, placing himself on the defensive. "Kape cool, ye frog-atin' son av a gun, or ye'll make mate for us sooner than ye expected, ay, before yez have time to put up a pater for yer ugly sowl, that stans most disperately in nade ov it.
"Oh, av course a frog-atin' Frinchman loike you, Dashalong, would think any kind av fish a reg'lar feast." Deschaillon leaned over to inspect his portion. "Now eet does very well to wax zee mustache, Mike." He twirled his own. Caradoc grunted disapproval of such doubtful table talk, arose and left the rough company and rough fare with supercilious condemnation.
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