"Bless you! you red coated puppy! what's your name?"
This only brought forth another mechanical salute from the military man.
Being baffled by the tactics of the "regular army," Puffeigh next tackled the sailor. What with cork wrinkles and other facial decorations, it would have been somewhat a puzzle for his mother to have identified Jerry, who looked his officer full in the face, and bowed rapidly, saying,
"Service to ye, sir."
"What ship do you belong to?" demanded the captain.
"Wictory, yer honour."
"What's your name?" bullied Puffeigh.
"Jemmy Green, sir."
"It's a deuced good job for you that I leave England a few days, or I'd call in a policeman and give you in charge. Clear out! you fellow, it's a blessing you don't belong to my ship, or I'd have you four dozen lashes for this evening's amusement." Saying this the noble commander strutted fiercely out of the hall.
Thompson waited until his superior officer was fairly up stairs, when he bawled after him, "Pleasant voyage to you, captain. I'm glad we ain't aboard the Stinger," and then vanished out-of-doors with his lady.