“Not unless you deserve it—add that,” said Jack, sternly.
“I must have an apology for those words, sir. I shall insist on your recalling them, and expressing your sincere regret for having ever used them.”
“So you shall, Cutty. I completely forgot that this tower was ninety feet high; but I 'll pitch you downstairs, which will do as well.”
There was a terrible gleam of earnestness in Jack's eye as he spoke this laughingly, which appalled Cutbill far more than any bluster, and he stammered out, “Let us have no practical jokes; they're bad taste. You'd be a great fool, admiral”—this was a familiarity he occasionally used with Jack—“you 'd be a great fool to quarrel with me. I can do more with the fellows at Somerset House than most men going; and when the day comes that they 'll give you a command, and you 'll want twelve or fifteen hundred to set you afloat, Tom Cutbill is not the worst man to know in the City. Not to say, that if things go right down here, I could help you to something very snug in our mine. Won't we come out strong then, eh?”
Here he rattled over the keys once more; and after humming to himself for a second or two, burst out with a rattling merry air, to which he sung,—
“With crests on our harness and breechin,
In a carriage and four we shall roll,
With a splendid French cook in the kitchen,
If we only succeed to find coal,
Coal!
If we only are sure to find coal.”
“A barcarolle, I declare,” said Lord Culduff, entering. “It was a good inspiration led me up here.”
A jolly roar of laughter at his mistake welcomed him; and Cutty, with an aside, cried out, “He's deaf as a post,” and continued,—
“If we marry, we 'll marry a beauty,
If single we 'll try and control
Our tastes within limits of duty,
And make ourselves jolly with coal,
Coal!
And make ourselves jolly with coal.
“They may talk of the mines of Golcondar,
Or the shafts of Puebla del Sol;
But to fill a man's pocket, I wonder
If there's anything equal to coal,
Coal!
If there 's anything equal to coal.
“At Naples we 'll live on the Chiaja,
With our schooner-yacht close to the Mole,
And make daily picknickings to Baja,
If we only come down upon coal,
Coal!
If we only come down upon coal.”
“One of the fishermen's songs,” said Lord Culduff, as he beat time on the table. “I 've passed many a night on the Bay of Naples listening to them.”