“I must see her.”
“Perhaps you must, my hearty; but I don’t think she wants to see you till you are a decent young gentleman. She told me to be sure and put you on board of the ship, and I’m going to do it.”
“Where is the ship?”
“She sailed for Gottenburg yesterday morning; but we shall find her in good time,” replied Peaks, taking a bundle from the bureau, which contained the young Briton’s uniform. “Now, my bantam, you don’t look like a gentleman in that rig you’ve got on. Here’s your gear; put it on, and look like a man again, whether you are one or not. Those long togs don’t become you.”
The boatswain unfolded the uniform of Clyde, which he had left in his chamber when he leaped out of the window.
“I’m not going to put on those clothes,” protested the unhappy youth.
“No?”
“I’m not!”
“Then I’m going to put them on for you.”
“I’ll cry murder.”