“Here,” said the mate, giving him two or three old Maoriland newspapers—“here's some Auckland papers. Know anybody there?”
“No,” he answered, promptly, “not a soul, but he knowed Sydney well. Larst time I wos there I sold old Bobby Towns £6,000 worth of oil—a bloomin' shipful. I got drunk, an' a (blank) policeman went through me in the cell and took the whole blessed lot outer me (scarlet) pocket.” (Nine bad words omitted.)
“Bank notes?” queried Bully.
“No, sov'reigns—(gory) sov'reigns.”
He asked us if we had seen any men-o'-war about lately, and said that the captain of H.M.S. ———— had wanted to marry his daughter, but he wouldn't let her marry no man-o'-war cove after the way that ——— Wardell had treated him. He thought he would go back to Sydney again for a spell. His brother had a flaming fine billet there.
The Cook of the “Spreetoo Santoo” 243
“What is he?” asked Hayes.
“'E's a (blessed) Soopreme Court Judge, wears a (gory) wig big enough to make chafin' gear for a (crimson) fleet o' ships; 'e lives at Guvment 'Ouse, and Vs rollin' in money an' drinks like a (carmine) fish. I thought I might see somethin' about the ——— in a (blank) Sydney noospaper. I'll come in for all his (ensanguined) money when 'e dies.”
Bully gave him a bottle of gin after a while. Then he hurriedly bade us farewell and went ashore.