The shouts of assent frightened Mr Skrimmage, who attempted to make his escape by the gun-room door, but was prevented by the two sentries, who had been placed there on purpose. He then requested to be heard—to be allowed to explain; but it was useless. He was dragged to the table, amidst an uproar of laughter and shouting. “Extreme bad headaches”—“Mrs Skrimmage”—“nervous”—“ample satisfaction”—“conduct like gentlemen”—“complain to first-lieutenant”—were the unconnected parts of his expostulation, which could be distinguished. He was extended across the table, face downwards; the lapels of his coat thrown up, and two dozen blows, with the sleeve-board, were administered with such force, that his shrieks were even louder than the laughter and vociferation of his assailants.
During the infliction, the noise within was so great that they did not pay attention to that which was outside, but as soon as Mr Skrimmage had been put on his legs again, and the tumult had partially subsided, the voice of the master-at-arms requesting admittance, and the screaming of Mrs Skrimmage, were heard at the door, which continued locked and guarded. The door was opened, and in flew the lady.
“My Skrimmage! my Skrimmage!—what have the brutes been doing to you? Oh, the wretches!” continued the lady, panting for breath, and turning to the midshipmen, who had retreated from her;—“you shall all be turned out of the service—you shall—that you shall. We’ll see—we’ll write for a court-martial—ay, you may laugh, but we will. Contempt to a superior officer—clerk and caterer, indeed! The service has come to a pretty pass—you villains! You may grin—I’ll tear the eyes out of some of you, that I will. Come, Mr Skrimmage, let us go on the quarter-deck, and see if the service is to be trifled with. Dirty scum, indeed—” and the lady stopped for want of breath occasioned by the rapidity of her utterance.
“Gentlemen,” said the master-at-arms, as soon as he could obtain hearing,—“the first-lieutenant wishes to know the reason why you are making such a noise?”
“Our compliments to Mr Phillips, and we have been settling the mess-account, and taking the change out of the caterer.”
“Yes,” continued Mrs Skrimmage, “you villains, you have, you paltry cheats—you blackguards—you warmin—you scum of the earth—you grinning monkeys—you!—don’t put your tongue into your cheek at me, you—you beast—you ill-looking imp, or I’ll write the ten commandments on your face—I will—ay, that I will—cowardly set of beggars—” (No more breath.)
“I’ll tell you what, marm,” rejoined the old master’s-mate, “if you don’t clap a stopper on that jaw of yours, by George, we’ll cobb you.”
“Cobb me!—you will, will you? I should like to see you. I dare you to cobb me, you wretches!”
“Cobb her, cobb her!” roared out all the midshipmen, who were irritated at her language; and in a moment she was seized by a dozen of them, who dragged her to the table. Mrs Skrimmage struggled in vain, and there appeared every chance of the threat being put in force.
“Oh,—is this the way to treat a lady?—Skrimmage! help, help!”