Cabinet system -- Great Britain -- Fiction; English fiction -- 20th century; Great Britain -- Politics and government -- Fiction
George, somewhat hurriedly introduced by both arms between his now
silent captors, perceived sitting at that table a sight very different
from that which he had expected. He saw a very small, thin man with a
little pointed red beard and the eyes of a weasel, wearing a well-used
and somewhat dirty peaked cap, upon the front of which was embroidered
a coat of arms long indistinguishable, and surrounded by a scroll of
tawdry and threadbare gold braid.
This was the individual upon whom Demaine’s hopes of speedy restoration
depended. He was determined not to speak first, though he was certain
that the superior education of the officer would pierce through his
involuntary disguise.
Captain Higgins pulled out a large, official-looking paper divided into
certain mysterious compartments, each headed with a printed rubric, and
said briefly, without looking up and with his pen ready to write:
“Name?”
“Demaine,” said George, with all the dignity he could summon....
“But----”
“Silence!” commanded Captain Higgins sharply, still without looking up
from the paper on which he scratched rapidly and in an official manner:
“Mane.” “First name,” he chanted musingly, his pen suspended to write
further.
“George Mulross,” enunciated that individual, and “George Ross” went
down onto the sheet.
He began once more by clearing his throat, but though he had not yet
said a word, Captain Higgins looked up with such an expression in his
small and unpleasing eyes as would brook no nonsense.
“George Ross Mane,” said he, speaking through his nose. “You have been
discovered on my ship, the _Lily_, one thousand three hundred and
twenty tons burthen, London rating, bound from London to Portland with
agricultural and general cargo.”
Captain Higgins loved these formalities.
“I have no jew-risdiction in the matter....” And here
he began speaking by rote out of a dirty little book
in which were laid down the elements of his trade:
“Of-breach-of-contract-tort-replevin-stave-jury-or-execution-major-and-
minor-nor-authority-to-act-savin’-always-and-exceptin’-in-such-way-as-
and-whereby-discipline-accoutrement-good
order-_and_-the-fear-of-the-Lord-proper-to-the-navigatin’-of-this-ship-
from-her-departure-to-her-port-of-destination-is-concerned-_wherefore_-
you-shall-be-fed-in-such-manner-as-shall-keep-you-livin’-until-the-next-
port-or-ports-whereat-this-good-ship-may-touch-and-there-delivered-to-
the-Sheriff-or-his-officers-or-other-justices-of-our-Sovereign-Lord-the-
King-and-of-his-peace: Take-away-the-prisoner! Gawd-save-the-King.”
This sentence, which was delivered in one breath and with the rapidity
of an expert, became towards its close a torrent of syllables ending up
sharp upon the word “King” as upon a bell, and followed by a stinging
silence.
“I demand,” shouted George in an uncontrolled voice over his shoulder
as they dragged him away.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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