“I wish I had a glass, to see how it looks. I would try it on you, Prose, but you’ve such a bull neck, that it wouldn’t go half round it.”
“Bull neck, Jerry—why, I’ll lay you sixpence that my neck’s almost as small as yours; and I’ll lay you a shilling that the collar will go round my neck.”
“Done; now let’s see—recollect the staple must go into the hole, or you lose,” said Jerry, fixing the collar round Prose’s neck, and pretending that the staple was not into the hole of the collar until he had inserted the padlock, turned and taken out the key.
“Well, I do declare I’ve lost, Prose. I must go and get you the shilling,” continued Jerry, making his escape out of the berth, and leaving Prose with the collar so tight under his chin, that he could scarcely open his mouth. Jerry arrived on the quarter-deck, just as the captain was stepping into the boat, and he went up to him, and touching his hat, presented him with the bunch of keys.
“Oh, thank you, Mr Jerry; I had forgotten them,” said Captain M—, descending the side, and shoving off.
“Whose clothes are these hanging on the davit-guys?” said Mr Bully, who had given order that no clothes were to be drying after eight o’clock in the morning.
“I believe that they are Mr Prose’s, sir, though I am not sure,” answered Jerry, who knew very well that they were not, but wished that Prose should be sent for.
“Quarter-master, tell Mr Prose to come up to me directly.” Jerry immediately ran down to the berth.
“Well, now, Jerry, this is too bad, I do declare. Come, take it off again, that’s a good fellow.”
“Mr Prose,” said the quarter-master, “the first-lieutenant wants you on deck directly.”