"Where is Mauresco? Handsome Mauresco? He has a pretty pipe. Bring Mauresco. No one can sing like Mauresco."
"Mauresco! No one can sing like Mauresco!"
"You'll never hear his pretty pipe again, thank God!" whispered I in the Bo's'n's ear.
"Where can he be?" roared Captain Jonas; "and Wiggins and the Turk?"
"So it was the Turk and Wiggins who went to keep Mauresco company," said I again softly in the Bo's'n's ear.
"An' a murderous pair they was, sir, Mr. Jones, if ever I saw such," answered the Bo's'n.
"A song, meanwhile, good Jonas," squeaked the Admiral. "A song! You sing a stave nearly as well as Mauresco. Sing——"
"I'll choose my song myself," said Jonas gruffly, "or I won't sing at all. It was sung in Ned England's day. Brave Ned England!"
"Choose it, then," said the Admiral hotly, "but sing it. Get one with a chorus, mind you, one with a chorus! We all like to roar a jolly chorus, hey, my lads?"
"We do! we do! The Admiral has spoke our minds, we do!" shouted the band in ragged unison.