"And so you are bound for London, sir; pray, are you in a hurry to

get there?"

"Not particularly," Barnabas rejoined.

"Then there you have the advantage of me, for I am, sir. But here I

sit, a martyr for conscience sake. Now, sir, if you are in no great

hurry, and have a mind to travel in company with a martyr, just as

soon as I am free of these bilboes, we'll take the road together.

What d' ye say?"

"With pleasure!" answered Barnabas.

"Why then, sir, pray sit down. I blush to offer you the stocks, but

the grass is devilish dewy and damp, and there's deuce a chair to be

had--which is only natural, of course; but pray sit somewhere until

the Bo'sun, like the jolly old dog he is, produces the key, and lets

me out."

"Bo'sun, you'll perceive the gentleman is waiting, and, for that

matter, so am I. The key, Jerry, the key."

"Axing your pardons, gentlemen both," began the Bo'sun, taking

himself by the starboard whisker, "but orders is orders, and I was

to tell you, Master Horatio, sir, as there was firstly a round o'

beef cold, for breakfus!"

"Beef!" exclaimed the prisoner, striking himself on the crown of the

hat.

"Next a smoked tongue--" continued the Bo'sun.

"Tongue!" sighed the prisoner, turning to Barnabas. "You hear that,

sir, my unnatural father and uncle batten upon rounds of beef, and

smoked tongues, while I sit here, my legs at a most uncomfortable

angle, and my inner man as empty as a drum; oh, confound and curse it!"

"A brace o' cold fowl," went on the Bo'sun inexorably; "a biled 'am--"

"Enough, Jerry, enough, lest I forget filial piety and affection and

rail upon 'em for heartless gluttons."

"And," pursued the Bo'sun, still busy with his whisker and

abstracted of eye--"and I were to say as you was now free to come

out of they stocks--"

"Aha, Jerry! even the most Roman of fathers can relent, then. Out

with the key, Jerry! Egad! I can positively taste that beef from here;

unlock me, Jerry, that I may haste to pay my respects to Roman parent,

uncle, and beef--last, but not least, Jerry--"

"Always supposing," added the Bo'sun, giving a final twist to his

whisker, "that you've 'ad time to think better on it, d' ye see, and

change your mind, Master Horatio, my Lord."




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