The purser’s steward lay on the ground and screamed—the boatswain spit his double teeth and two or three mouthfuls of blood out, and then threw down his pistols in a rage.
“A pretty business, by God,” sputtered he; “he’s put my pipe out. How the devil am I to pipe to dinner when I’m ordered, all my wind ’scaping through the cheeks?”
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.”
“Han’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 swinging 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.
“What the hell are you making such a howling about? Look at me, with two shot-holes through my figure- head, 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 stores 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.”
During this conversation, the purser’s steward felt very faint, and thought he was going to die.
“Oh dear! oh dear! what a fool I was; I never was a gentleman—only a swell: I shall die; I never will pick a pocket again—never—never—God forgive me!”
“Why, confound the fellow,” cried Gascoigne, “so you were a pickpocket, were you?”
“I never will again,” replied the fellow in a faint voice: “Hi’ll hamend and lead a good life—a drop of water—oh! lagged at last!”
Then the poor wretch fainted away: and Mr. Tallboys coming up with the men, he was taken on their shoulders and walked off to the hospital, attended by the gunner and also the boatswain, who thought he might as well have a little medical advice before he went on board.
“Well, Easy,” said Gascoigne, collecting the pistols and tying them up in his handkerchief, “I’ll be shot, but we’re in a pretty scrape; there’s no hushing this up. I’ll be hanged if I care, it’s the best piece of fun
I ever met with.” And at the remembrance of it Gascoigne laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks. Jack’s mirth was not quite so excessive, as he was afraid that the purser’s steward was severely hurt, and expressed his fears.
“At all events, you did not hit him,” replied Gascoigne; “all you have to answer for is the boatswain’s mug—I think you’ve stopped his jaw for the future.”