“But do you know the Gap, sir?” said Bigley eagerly.
“Do I know ze Gahp? Aha! Ho, ho! Do I not know ze Gahp vis him eye shut? Peep! Eh? Aha! And every ozer place chez ze cote. Do I evaire make my sheep off ze Gahp to de leettl business—des affaires vis monsieur votre père? Aha! Oh, no, nod-a-dalls.”
He gave his nose a great many little taps with his right forefinger as he spoke, and ended by winking both his eyes a great many times, with the effect that the gold rings in his ears danced, and then he went up the little ladder through the hatchway, to stand half out for a few minutes giving orders, while we had a good look at the lower part of his person, which was clothed in what would have been a stiff canvas petticoat, had it not been sewn up between his legs, so as to turn it into the fashion of a pair of trousers, worn over a pair of heavy fishermen’s boots.
Then he went up the rest of the way, and let in more light and air, while the motion of the vessel plainly told us that her course had been altered.
“Well,” said Bob Chowne, speaking now for the first time, “he’s the rummest looking beggar I ever saw. Looks as if you might cut him up and make monkeys out of the stuff.”
“Well, of all the ungrateful—”
I began a sentence, but Bob cut me short.
“I’m not ungrateful,” he said sharply; “and I’m getting nice and warm now; but what does a man want to wear ear-rings for like a girl, and curl up his hair in little greasy ringlets, that look as if they’d been twisted round pipes, and—I say, boys, did you see his breeches?”
I nodded rather grimly.
“And his boots, old Big; did you see his boots?”