Reginald kissed her and set her down on the deck.
But the advent of the grand dog altered matters considerably. He came on deck with a dash and a spring, laughing, apparently, all down both sides.
“You can’t catch me,” he would say, or appear to say, to Matty.
“I tan tatch ’oo, twick!” she would cry, and off went the dog forward at the gallop, Matty, screaming with laughter, taking up the running, though far in the rear.
Smaller dogs on board ship are content to carry and toss and play with a wooden marlin-spike. Oscar despised so puny an object. He would not have felt it in his huge mouth. But he helped himself to a capstan bar, and that is of great length and very heavy. Nevertheless, he would not drop it, and there was honest pride in his beaming eye as he swung off with it. He had to hold his head high to balance it. But round and round the decks he flew, and if a sailor happened to cross his hawse the bar went whack! across his shins or knees, and he was left rubbing and lamenting.
Matty tried to take all sorts of cross-cuts between the masts or boats that lay upside down on the deck, but all in vain. But Oscar would tire at last, and let the child catch him.
“Now I’se tatched ’oo fairly!” she would cry, seizing him by the shaggy mane.
Oscar was very serious now, and licked the child’s cheek and ear in the most affectionate manner, well knowing she was but a baby.
“Woa, horsie, woa!” It was all she could do to scramble up and on to Oscar’s broad back. Stride-legs she rode, but sometimes, by way of practical joke, after she had mounted the dog would suddenly sit down, and away slid Matty, falling on her back, laughing and sprawling, all legs and arms, white teeth, and merry, twinkling eyes of blue.
“Mind,” she would tell Oscar, after getting up from deck and preparing to remount, “if ’oo sits down adain, ’oo shall be whipped and put into the black hole till the bow-mannie (an evil spirit) tomes and takes ’oo away!”