“A chaise, your honour—do the thing dacently.”
Now, whether my hesitation at this moment was set down by the crowd of my solicitors to some doubt of my solvency or not, I cannot say; but true it is, their tone of obsequious entreaty gradually changed into one of rather caustic criticism.
“Maybe it's a gossoon you'd like to carry the little trunk.”
“Let him alone; it's only a carpet-bag; he'll carry it himself.”
“Don't you see the gentleman would rather walk; and as the night is fine, 'tis pleasanter—and—cheaper.”
“Take you for a fipp'ny bit and a glass of sparits,” said a gruff voice in my ear.
By this time I had collected my luggage together, whose imposing appearance seemed once more to testify in my favour, particularly the case of my cocked-hat, which to my ready-witted acquaintances proclaimed me a military man. A general rush was accordingly made upon my luggage; and while one man armed himself with a portmanteau, another laid hands on a trunk, a third a carpet-bag, a fourth a gun-case, and so on until I found myself keeping watch and ward over my epaulet-case and my umbrella, the sole remnant of my effects. At the same moment a burst of laughter and a half shout broke from the crowd, and a huge, powerful fellow jumped on the deck, and, seizing me by the arm, cried out,
“Come along now, Captain, it's all right. This way—this way, sir.”
“But why am I to go with you?” said I, vainly struggling to escape his grasp.
“Why is it?” said he, with a chuckling laugh; “reason enough—didn't we toss up for ye, and didn't I win ye.”