‘This was a poser for the poor admiral, who sat silent for a few seconds amidst the half-suppressed titter of the members. At length, joining in the laugh against himself, he exclaimed,
‘“Upon my soul, a pleasant job I’ve got into! D——n the fellow! No matter! I won’t go. Let the waiter tell him that there was one black ball, and that his name must be put up again if he wishes it.”
‘This plan appeared so judicious that all concurred in its propriety. Accordingly the waiter was a few minutes after despatched on the mission.
‘In the meantime Mr. Fitzgerald showed evident symptoms of impatience at being kept so long from his “dear friends” above stairs, and frequently rang the bell to know the state of the poll. On the first occasion he thus addressed the waiter who answered his summons:
‘“Come here, my tight little fellow. Do you know if I am chose yet?”
‘“I really can’t say, sir,” replied the young man, “but I’ll see.”
‘“There’s a nice little man; be quick, d’ye see, and I’ll give ye sixpence when ye come with the good news.”
‘Away went the little man; but he was in no hurry to come back, for he as well as his fellows was sufficiently aware of Fitzgerald’s violent temper, and wished to come in contact with him as seldom as possible.
‘The bell rang again, and to another waiter the impatient candidate put the same question:
‘“Am I chose yet, waither?”