His superior officer was somewhat shoved off his balance by this most extraordinary reply from his lieutenant, and rapped out, fiercely enough—"Come on board this instant, sir, or by the Lord, I"——
"How can I do that thing, and me dead since three bells in the middle watch last night?" This was grumbled as it were through his trumpet, but presently he shouted out as loud as he could bellow—"I can't come; and, what's more, I won't; for I died last night, and am to be buried whenever it goes eight bells at noon."
"Dead!" said the commodore, now seriously angry. "Dead, did he say? Why, he is drunk, gentlemen, and not mad. There is always some method in madness; here there is none." Till recollecting himself—"Poor fellow, let me try him a little farther; but really it is too absurd"—as he looked round and observed the difficulty both officers and men had in keeping countenance—"Let me humour him a little longer," continued he. "Pray, Mr Donovan, how can you be dead, and speaking to me now?"
"Because," said Donovan promptly, "I have a forenoon's leave from purgatory to see myself decently buried, Sir Oliver."
Here we could no longer contain ourselves, and, notwithstanding the melancholy and humiliating spectacle before us, a shout of laughter burst from all hands fore and aft simultaneously, as the commodore, exceedingly tickled, sung out—"Oh, I see how it is—I see—so do come on board, Mr Donovan, and we will see you properly buried."
"You see, Sir Oliver!" said the poor fellow; "to be sure you do—a blind horse might persave it."
"I say, Dennis dear," quoth I, "I will be answerable that all the honours shall be paid you." But the deceased Irishman was not to be had so easily, and again refused, point-blank, to leave the Midge.
"Lower away the boat there, Mr Sprawl," said Sir Oliver; "no use in all this; you see he won't come. Pipe away her crew, Mr Lanyard, do you hear? So, brisk now—brisk—be off. Take the surgeon with you, and bring that poor fellow on board instantly. Here, Brail, go too, will ye—you are a favourite of his, and probably he will take more kindly to you than any one else."
We shoved off—and in a twinkling we were alongside—"What cheer, Donovan, my darling? How are you, man, and how do you all do?"
"Ah, Benjamin, glad to see you, my boy. I hope you have come to read the service: I'm to be buried at noon, you know."