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Updated: June 22, 2025
They were obviously over-anxious to play safe to the last. "Then go!" called Jack. Pete and Ropey slouched away, leaving behind Ropey's gun, which was unimportant as it had only one notch, and Pete's precious companion of many campaigns with its six notches, lying on the sand. "And, gentlemen," Jack called to the spectators, "our little entertainment is over now.
"Well, then," said he, in a smuggled tone, his eyes lighting up like two lanterns, "well, then, I'd go to Mother Moll's that makes the great muffins: I'd go there, you know, and cock my foot on the 'ob, and call for a noggin o' somethink to begin with." "What then, Ropey?"
I say now, Ropey, s'posing you were back to Holborn this morning, what would you have for breakfast, eh?" "Have for breakfast!" cried Ropey in a rapture. "Don't speak of it!" "What ails that fellow?" here growled an old sea-bear, turning round savagely. "Oh, nothing, nothing," said Jack; and then, leaning over to Rope Yarn, he bade him go on, but speak lower.
She faced around, drawn by something that will and reason could not overcome, to see that Jim Galway and Ropey Smith had finished their task of pacing off the distance. The two combatants were starting for their stations, their long shadows in the slant of the morning sunlight travelling over the sand like pursuing spectres.
Pearls stewed in sunshine, Harry Lant used to call it; and really to see the beautiful, glistening, white rice, every grain tender as tender, and yet dry and ready to roll away from the others none of your mesh-posh rice, if Mrs Bantem boiled it and then the rich golden curry itself: there, I've known that woman turn one of the toughest old native cocks into what you'd have sworn was a delicate young Dorking chick that is, so long as you didn't get hold of a drumstick, which perhaps would be a bit ropey.
Leddy asked Jim, while he looked in appeal to the loungers, who were his men. "Yes, by all means," Jack told Galway. "And as I shall want a man with me, may I rely on you? Four of us will be enough, with a fifth to give the word." "Ropey Smith can go with me," said Leddy.
Ropey, poor poor Ropey, who a few days previous had fallen sick, was left ashore at the sailor hospital at Townor, a small place upon the beach between Papeetee and Matavai. Here, some time after, he breathed his last. No one knew his complaint: he must have died of hard times. Several of us saw him interred in the sand, and I planted a rude post to mark his resting-place.
"Don't fall overboard, Ropey," said another to the poor landlubber, who, with Wymontoo, the Dane, and others left behind, was looking over at us from the forecastle. "Give her three more!" cried Salem, springing to his feet and whirling his hat round. "You sacre dam raakeel," shouted the lieutenant of the party, bringing the flat of his sabre across his shoulders, "you now keepy steel."
"Now, sailors newly waked are no cherubs; and therefore not a word is spoken, everybody munching his biscuit, grim and unshaven. At this juncture an affable-looking scamp Flash Jack crosses the forecastle, tin can in hand, and seats himself beside the land-lubber. "Hard fare this, Ropey," he begins; "hard enough, too, for them that's known better and lived in Lun'nun.
Once inside his room, he struck a match, and lighted one of the two gas-burners. "Everything same as ever," said Mr. Bud, looking around from the centre of the room. "Hello, what's this?" exclaimed Larcher, having backed against a hollow metallic object on the floor and knocked his head against a ropey, rubbery something in the air. "That's a gas-heater Mr. Davenport made me a present of it.
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