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Quiet, gramfer, and dont trouble his worship. Here an hour, and never speak to poor old Martin! I say, sir and the old man feebly plucks Amyass cloak as he passes. I say, captain, do e tell young master old Martins looking for him. Marcy, gramfer, wheres your manners? Dont be vexed, sir, hem amost a babe, and tejous at times, mortal. Young master who? says Amyas, bending down to the old man, and smiling to the dame to let him have his way. Master Hawkins; hem never been a-near me all day. Off goes Amyas; and, of course, lays hold of the sleeve of young Richard Hawkins; but as he is in act to speak, the dame lays hold of his, laughing and blushing. No, sir, not Mr. Richard, sir; Admiral John, sir, his father; he always calls him young master, poor old soul! and she points to the grizzled beard and the face scarred and tanned with fifty years of fight and storm. Amyas goes to the Admiral, and gives his message. Mercy on me! Where be my wits? Iss, Im a-coming, says the old hero in his broadest Devon, waddles off to the old man, and begins lugging at a pocket. Here, Martin, Ive got mun, Ive got mun, man alive; but his Lordship keept me so. Lookee here, then! Why, I do get so lusty of late, Martin, I cant get to my pockets! And out struggle a piece of tarred string, a bundle of papers, a thimble, a piece of pudding-tobacco, and last of all, a little paper of Muscovado sugarthen as great a delicacy as any French bonbons would be nowwhich he thrusts into the old mans eager and trembling hand. Old Martin begins dipping his finger into it, and rubbing it on his toothless gums, smiling and nodding thanks to his young master; while the little maid at his knee, unrebuked, takes her share also. There, Admiral Leigh; both ends meetgramfers and babies! You and I shall be like to that one day, young Samson! We shall have slain a good many Philistines first, I hope. Amen! so be it; but look to mun! so fine a sailor as ever drank liquor; and now greedy after a hit of sweet trade! tis piteous like; but I bring mun a hit whenever I come, and he looks for it. Hes one of my own flesh like, is old Martin. He sailed with my father Captain Will, when they was both two little cracks aboard of a trawler; and my father went up, and here I amhe didnt, and there he is. Wem up now, we Hawkinses. We may be down again some day. Never, I trust, said Amyas. Taint no use trusting, young man: you go and do. I do hear too much of that there from my lad. Let they ministers preach till theym black in the face, works is the trade! with a nudge in Amyass ribs. Faith cant save, nor charity nether. There, you tell with him, while I go play bowls with Drake. Hell tell you a sight of stories. You ask him about good King Hal, now, just And off waddled the Port Admiral. You have seen good King Henry, then, father? said Amyas, interested. |
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