Twice it essayed to get the biscuit, but always flinched, till Bob took a step more in advance, when the animal snatched the coveted morsel and began to eat it ravenously.
“Why, it’s half-starved, Dick,” said the middy.
“Yes, sir, he tried to get a piece of Bill Black’s finger, but Bill cut up rough, and wouldn’t let him have it.”
Here there was a fresh burst of laughter, in which Bill, whose finger was, after all, only pinched, heartily joined.
“What are you going to do with him, Dick?” said Bob Roberts.
“Well, sir,” said Dick, with a dry wrinkle or two extra on his mahogany physiognomy, “I was going to ask the skipper if he’d like to have the gent for a new middy, seeing as you, sir, have got to be quite a grown man now.”
“Don’t you be cheeky, Dick,” said Bob, indignantly.
“No, sir, I won’t,” said the old sailor humbly; “but on second thoughts, which is allers the best, Mr Roberts, sir, I thought as the skipper wouldn’t have a uniform as would fit him, so I said as I’d take him on to the island, where they’d soon make a sojer of him.”
“Now look here, Dick,” said Bob, “I take no end of impudence from you, but let there be some end to it. Now then, have you done joking?”
“Yes, sir, but he would look well in a red jacket, wouldn’t he?”