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A month had expired by the time the top-gallant masts were on end. We had received all our officers and two hundred men from Chatham and the river. At length, Greenwich pensioners, riggers, and dockyard mateys took their departure, to our great satisfaction, as it was impossible to bring the ship’s crew into discipline whilst they were on board.
"Well, we are and we en't, eh, mateys? The Waterman's Rest en't exactly the kind of place to spend shore leave; it en't a patch on Wapping or Rotherhithe. And to tell 'ee true, we're dead sick of it. But there's reasons; there mostly is; and the whys and wherefores, therefores and becauses, I dessay you know, young gen'lman, acomin' from Captain Barker." "The press gang?"
Once over himself, he used his hook to haul the Sepoys after him, with many a vigorous "Yo, heave ho!" "All aboard, sir," he cried, when the last of the men was within the wall. "I may be wrong, but I lay my button hook 'tis now all hands to repel boarders; and only two cutlasses among us mine and Mr. Toley's. What ho, mateys! who cares "
"And, sure enough, that was what it was, a squid as big round as the Isle o' Wight, with arms that ud reach from Wapping Stairs to Bugsby Marshes, and just that curly shape. An' what was more, 'twas steerin' straight for us. Ay, mateys, 'twas a horrible moment!"
"Would you mind me lookin' at passes, mateys?" demanded the picket, entering the compartment. The man by the door produced his pass, the one he had written and signed himself; and when it passed inspection he slyly slipped it behind the back of the man next him, and in the space of three seconds the brisk Cockney had the forged permit of leave to show to the inspector.
"By thunder, sir," said Bulger, "give me the chanst and I'll learn the mounseer the why and wherefore of it. And as for Diggle well, I may be wrong, but I'll lay my share o' the prize money out o' the Good Intent that he's hatchin' mischief, and not far off neither. Show a leg, mateys." Before Major Coote reached Daudpur he was overtaken by a horseman bearing a message from Clive.
Up he goes, up the bastion; bang goes t'other pistol; then he outs with his cutlass, a-roarin' hurray with a voice like a twelve pounder; down goes three o' them Moors; another breaks Jack's cutlass with his simitar; bless you, what's he care? don't care a straw, which his name is Strahan; he've got a fist, he have, an' he dashes it in the Moor's face, collars his simitar, cuts his throat and sings out, 'Ho, mateys! this 'ere fort's mine!
"Ay, you're right there, Bulger." "But why don't you like going to sea?" asked Desmond. "Why? You're a landlubber, sir meanin' no offense or you wouldn't axe sich a foolish question. At sea 'tis all rope's end and salt pork, with Irish horse for a tit-bit." "Irish horse?" "Ay. That's our name for it. 'Cos why? Explain to the gen'lman, mateys."
"Rare sport they'll have! I wouldn't be in Mr. Toley's shoes for something. What's a cock-eyed man want with a gun in his hand, eh, mateys?" Desmond felt somewhat out of his element in his present company; but having reasons of his own for making himself pleasant, he said, by way of opening a conversation: "You seem pleased at the idea of going to sea again, Mr. Bulger."
I asked of a bystander who these people were, and he told me that they were dockyard mateys. I certainly thought that it appeared to be quite as easy to say "If you please," as "D n your eyes," and that it sounded much more agreeable. During the time that I was looking at the frigate being hauled out, two of the men belonging to the boat slipped away, and on my return they were not to be seen.
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