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Updated: May 19, 2025
Stop where ye be, my bold drummer boy; keep yer money, ef ye've got any left; that is the best way, after all. 'I know the right, and I approve it, too; I know the wrong, and yet the wrong pursue," added Tucket, dealing the cards. No doubt he meant to give Frank good advice. But to the sensitive and proud spirit of the boy, it sounded like withering sarcasm. He couldn't stand that.
Jack felt a benumbing shock, and dropped his gun, the stock of which had been shivered in his grasp. At the same instant Ellis dropped his gun also, and threw out his hands wildly, exclaiming, "I am shot!" And both fell to the ground together. "That's what ye call two birds with one stun!" said Tucket, a flash of ferocity kindling his face as he saw his comrades fall. "Pay 'em for that, boys!
"He limps dreadfully when any body is looking at him," said Harris. "Nobody killed, and only one wounded," said Frank. "The sight of old Buckley coming with his dog would be better than a surgeon, to cure that wound," said Tucket.
Were you aware, Frank, that it was Tucket, and not a turkey, in the bushes, when you took this man to the woods?" "I rather thought it was Tucket," said Frank, "though the man stuck to it so stoutly that 'twas his gobbler, I didn't know but " "Never mind about that." The captain saw that it was Frank's object to lead the inquiry back to the ludicrous part of the business, and promptly checked him.
We'll be going in there soon, boys!" The boat approaches a cove called Ashby's Harbor, taking soundings as it nears the land. On board of her is one of the negro lads, who fearlessly pilots her towards scenes familiar to his days of bondage. "They'd better keep their eyes skinned!" says Tucket. "There's rebels in the mash there, I bet ye a dollar!"
William Tucket, the mayor of Bridgewater, where they resided, and to others of that town, the propriety of petitioning parliament for the abolition of the Slave Trade. This petition was agreed upon, and, when drawn up, was as follows: "The humble petition of the inhabitants of Bridgewater showeth,
"'Rattling, crashing, thrashing, thunder down!" screamed Seth Tucket, his ruling passion, poetry, strong even in battle. The man, pitching forwards in his fearful somerset, had fallen within a few feet of Frank. The boy recovering from his astonishment at the awful sight, felt a strange curiosity to see if he was dead. He looked over the log.
Though mabby he means I stole the gobble of one of his turkeys. I own it's a gobble I picked up somewheres, but I didn't know 'twas his." And Tucket drew down his face with an expression of incorruptible innocence. "Well, boys," said the captain, silencing the laughter, "we have had fun enough for the occasion, though it is a merry Christmas. No more buffoonery. Tucket.
Even Captain Edney smiled, as he gave a glance at the green-looking, seriously-winking Seth. "So it was you that played the gobbler, Tucket," said the captain. "I hope there wan't no great harm in't ef I did, sir," replied Seth, with ludicrous mock solemnity. "Bein' Christmas so, I thought I'd like a little bit of turkey, sir, ef 'twant no more than the gobble.
Frank, who was once more in communication with his friends, had expected such a box, and been disappointed. "You just come along with me, boys," said Seth Tucket, "and we'll lay in for as merry a Christmas as any of 'em. It may come a little later in the day; but patient waiters are no losers, as the waiter said when he picked the pockets of the six gentlemen at dinner."
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