The Green Hand: Adventures of a Naval LieutenantCupples, George
General
The Green Hand: Adventures of a Naval Lieutenant
Cupples, George
Sea stories; Seafaring life -- Juvenile fiction; Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction
"They hove us a line out of the gangway at once, the mate got up her
side as she rolled gently over, and I followed him: the scene that met
our eyes as soon as we reached the deck, however, struck me a good deal
on various accounts. We couldn't at first see where Mr Rollock and his
party might be, for the shadow of a thick awning after the glare of the
water, and the people near the brig's gangway; but I saw two or three
dark-faced, very French-like individuals, in broad-brimmed straw hats
and white trousers, seemingly passengers; while about twenty Kroomen and
negroes, and as many seamen with unshaven chins, earrings, and striped
frocks, were in knots before the long-boat, turned keel up amidships,
careless enough, to all appearance, about us. One of the passengers
leant against the mainmast, with his arms folded over his broad chest,
and his legs crossed, looking curiously at us as we came up; his dark
eyes half closed, the shadow of his hat down to his black moustache, and
his shirt-collar open, showing a scar on his hairy breast; one man, whom
I marked for the brig's surgeon, beside him; and another waiting for us
near the bulwarks--a leathery-faced little fellow, with twinkling black
eyes, and a sort of cocked hat fore-and-aft on his cropped head. '_Moi_,
monsieur,' said he, slapping his hand on his breast as the mate looked
about him, 'oui, je suis capitaine, monsieur.'
"'Good-day, sir,' said Stebbing, 'we've just come aboard for our
passengers--and the gig--sir, if you please.' 'Certainement, monsieur,'
said the French skipper, bowing and taking a paper from his pocket,
which he handed to the mate, 'I comprind, sare--monsieur le
capitaine d' la frégate Anglaise, il nous demande nos--vat you
call--_peppares_--voilà! I have 'ad le honneur, messieurs, to be already
sarch by vun off vos _crusoes_--pour des _esclaves_! vous imaginez
_cela_, messieurs!' and here the worthy Frenchman cast up his hands and
gave a grin which seemed meant for innocent horror. '_Slaifs! chez_ le
brigantin _Louis Bourbon_, Capitaine Jean Duprez? _Non!_' said he,
talking away like a windmill, 'de Marseilles à l'Isle de France, avec
les vins choisis----' 'You mistake, monsieur,' said I, in French; 'the
ship is an Indiaman, and we have only come for our _friends_, who are
enjoying your wine, I daresay, but we must----' 'Comment?' said he,
staring, '_what_, monsieur? have de gotness to----'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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