In the meantime, the others had gone to the assistance of the purser's
steward, who continued his vociferations. They examined him, and
considered a wound in that part not to be dangerous.
"Hold your confounded bawling," cried the gunner, "or you'll have the
guard down here. You're not hurt."
"Hain't hi!" roared the steward. "Oh, let me die! Let me die! Don't
move me!"
"Nonsense!" cried the gunner, "you must get up and walk down to the
boat; if you don't, we'll leave you. Hold your tongue, confound you!
You won't? Then I'll give you something to halloo for."
Whereupon Mr. Tallboys commenced cuffing the poor wretch right and
left, who received so many swingeing boxes of the ear that he was soon
reduced to merely pitiful plaints of "Oh, dear! such inhumanity! I
purtest! Oh, dear! must I get up? I can't, indeed."
"I do not think he can move, Mr. Tallboys," said Gascoigne. "I should
think the best plan would be to call up two of the men from the
cooperage and let them take him at once to the hospital."
The gunner went down to the cooperage to call the men. Mr. Biggs, who
had bound up his face as if he had a toothache, for the bleeding had
been very slight, came up to the purser's steward, exclaiming:
"What the hell are you making such a howling about? Look at me, with
two shot-holes through my figurehead, while you have only got one in
your stern. I wish I could change with you, by heavens! for I could
use my whistle then. Now, if I attempt to pipe, there will be such a
wasteful expenditure of his Majesty's store of wind that I never shall
get out a note. A wicked shot of yours, Mr. Easy."
"I really am very sorry," replied Jack, with a polite bow, "and I beg
to offer my best apology."
--"Midshipman Easy."
THREE THIMBLES AND A PEA
By GEORGE BORROW
A man emerged from the tent, bearing before him a rather singular
table. It appeared to be of white deal, was exceedingly small at the
top, and with very long legs. At a few yards from the entrance he
paused and looked round, as if to decide on the direction which he
should take. Presently, his eye glancing on me as I lay upon the
ground, he started, and appeared for a moment inclined to make off as
quick as possible, table and all. In a moment, however, he seemed to
recover assurance, and, coming up to the place where I was, the long
legs of the table projecting before him, he cried, "Glad to see you
here, my lord!"
"Thank you," said I; "it's a fine day."
"Very fine, my lord. Will your lordship play? Them that finds,
wins--them that don't finds, loses."
"Play at what?" said I.
"Only at the thimble and pea, my lord."
"I never heard of such a game."
"Didn't you? Well, I'll soon teach you," said he, placing the table
down. "All you have to do is to put a sovereign down on my table, and
to find the pea, which I put under one of my thimbles. If you find
it--and it is easy enough to find it--I give you a sovereign besides
your own; for them that finds, wins."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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