"I ain't done nothin', yer Honor," began Dicky, thinking he might get off by an eloquent appeal. "Yer see, I was brought up in Salem, I was—a place as has furnished a great many sailors for yer Majesty's dominions. It's true I never crossed the line, yer know, but yer see, I almost did it onc't. It all as happened in this 'ere way. Ole Si Jinkins and I, we started out on a mackerel fishin' an' got driv' away down south, almost onto the equator, when a sou'east storm springs up, and sends us back a joe-kiting. Well, as I was about ter say—"
"Peace!" roared Neptune in a voice of thunder.
"Yes, your Majesty, but yer see—"
"Peace!"
"Oh, yes! Wery good! but, as I was about ter say, the—"
"Peace, or I'll kick yer inter Davy Jones's locker!" was the dignified interruption, and Dicky stopped short.
"Lead the prisoner to the plank!" was the final order of Neptune.
Visions of "walking the plank" immediately rose up before the wretched youth, and he began to appeal in heartrending accents.
"But I didn't go an' do nothin', yer know. I was allers exceedingly respectful and perlite. Onc't on a time, I see'd a feller spit inter the sea, an' I remonstrated with indignation, because I thought yer Honor might be averse to tobacco. Yer see—"
"Silence! Lead him to the plank and shave him!" roared the implacable sea-god, and we led him away.