It now became my turn to be astonished. Instead of seeing the hungry oldster fall-to, like a ravenous dog, he broke off a small corner from the bread, ate it, and was in the act of retiring, when I hailed him.
“Halloa!—Pigtop—what’s in the wind now? My friend, you do but little honour to my cheer, and I am sure that you must want it.”
“No, no,” said Pigtop, with much feeling—“you shall never suppose that the old sailor sold the birthright of his honour for a mess of pottage.”
“Well felt and well said, by all that’s upright! But, nevertheless, you shall drink this bottle of porter, and eat this bread and butter—and so I’ll e’en cut it up into very excellent rounds. You sha’n’t accept my friendship without accepting my fare. I like your spirit so well, Pigtop, that for your sake I will never judge of a man again, until I have thrashed him soundly.”
To the surprise of my messmates, when they assembled punctually to the feast of mutton, they discovered me and old Pigtop, hand in hand across the table, discussing another bottle of porter.
Chapter Sixty One.
Ralph is placed in an awkward predicament being put upon his trial to prove his identity, and having no witnesses to call but himself—All voices against him but his own.
At this period, every day, nay, almost every hour, seemed to bring its startling event. Ere good digestion had followed our very good appetites, bustle and agitation pervaded the whole ship. It had been telegraphed from on shore that one of the junior lords of the Admiralty was coming on board immediately. There was blank dismay in our berth. How could my mess-mates possibly go on the quarter-deck, and assist to receive the dignified personage? Much did I enjoy the immunity that, I supposed, being a prisoner gave to me.