Dogs -- Fiction; Great Britain. Royal Navy -- Fiction; Historical fiction; Seafaring life -- Fiction
"Sha'n't I make no inquiries how this ere knife came there, sir?"
replied Smallbones.
"No, sir, mind your own business. I've a great mind to flog you for its
being found there--all your carelessness."
"That would be a pretty go," murmured Smallbones, as he shut the cabin
door.
The feeling of vengeance against Smallbones was now redoubled in the
breast of his master; and the only regret he felt at the transactions of
the day before was, that the boy had not been drowned.
"I'll have him yet," muttered the lieutenant; but he forgot that he was
shaving himself, and the involuntary movements of his lips caused him to
cut a large gash on his right cheek, from which the blood trickled fast.
"Curses on the--(razor he was going to say, but he changed to)--
scoundrel!"
A slice with a razor is certainly a very annoying thing. After a
certain time, Mr Vanslyperken finished his toilet, called for his
breakfast, went on deck, and as the day was fine, ordered the paint to
be renewed, and then went on shore to ascertain if there were any
commands for him at the admiral's office.
As he walked up the street in a brown study, he at last observed that a
very pretty woman dogged him, sometimes walking a-head and looking back,
at others dropping astern, and then again ranging up alongside. He
looked her in the face, and she smiled sweetly; and then turned her head
coquettishly, and then looked again with eyes full of meaning. Now,
although Mr Vanslyperken had always avoided amours on account of the
expense entailed upon them, yet he was like a dry chip, very
inflammable, and the extreme beauty of the party made him feel unusual
emotions. Her perseverance too--and her whole appearance so very
respectable--so superior to the class of people who generally accosted
him. He thought of the widow and her money-bags, and thought also, how
infinitely more desirable the widow would be, if she possessed but the
beauty of the present party.
"I do believe I've lost my way," exclaimed the young person. "Pray,
sir, can you tell me the way to Castle Street? for I'm almost a
stranger. And," (added she, laughing) "I really don't know my way back
to my own house."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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