During this conversation, the purser’s steward felt very faint, and thought he was going to die.
“Oh, dear! oh, dear! what a fool I was; I never was a gentleman—only a swell: I shall die; I never will pick a pocket again—never—never—God forgive me!”
“Why, confound the fellow,” cried Gascoigne, “so you were a pickpocket, were you?”
“I never will again,” replied the fellow, in a faint voice: “Hi’ll hamend and lead a good life—a drop of water—oh! lagged at last!”
Then the poor wretch fainted away: and Tallboys coming up with the men, he was taken on their shoulders and walked off to the hospital, attended by the gunner and also the boatswain, who thought he might as well have a little medical advice before he went on board.
“Well, Easy,” said Gascoigne, collecting the pistols and tying them up in his handkerchief, “I’ll be shot, but we’re in a pretty scrape; there’s no hushing this up. I’ll be hanged if I care, it’s the best piece of fun I ever met with.” And at the remembrance of it Gascoigne laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks. Jack’s mirth was not quite so excessive, as he was afraid that the purser’s steward was severely hurt, and expressed his fears.
“At all events, you did not hit him,” replied Gascoigne; “all you have to answer for is the boatswains’s mug—I think you’ve stopped his jaw for the future.”
“I’m afraid that our leave will be stopped for the future,” replied Jack.
“That we may take our oaths of,” replied Gascoigne.
“Then look you, Ned,” said Easy; “I’ve lots of dollars; we may as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb, as the saying is; I vote that we do not go on board.”