“Here, look alive! shove along! hand it up! I’m chokin’!”
The child held the saucepan as high as she could towards the hammock. The captain, reaching down one of his great arms, caught it and took a steaming draught. It seemed to relieve him greatly.
“You’re a trump for gruel, Polly,” he growled, returning the saucepan. “Now then, up with the pyramid, and give us a nor’-wester.”
The child returned the saucepan to the fireplace, and then actively placed a chair nearly underneath the hammock. Upon the chair she set a stool, and on the top she perched herself. Thus she was enabled to grasp the lurid sun by two enormous whiskers, and, putting her lips out, gave it a charming “nor’-wester,” which was returned with hyperborean violence. Immediately after, Polly ducked her head, and thus escaped being blown away, like a Hindoo mutineer from a cannon’s mouth, as the captain went off in another fit.
“Oh! father,” said Polly, quite solemnly, as she descended and looked up from a comparatively safe distance, “isn’t it awful?”
“Yes, Poll, it’s about the wust ’un I’ve had since I came from Barbadoes; but the last panful has mollified it, I think, and your nor’-wester has Pollyfied it, so, turn into your bunk, old girl, an’ take a nap. You’ve much need of it, poor thing.”
“No, father, if I get into my crib I’ll sleep so heavy that you won’t be able to wake me. I’ll just lie down where I was before.”
“Well, well—among the rubbish if ye prefer it; no matter s’long as you have a snooze,” growled the captain as he turned over, while the fairy disappeared into the dark recess from which she had risen.
Just then a tap was heard at the door. “Come in,” roared the captain. A tall, broad-shouldered, nautical-looking man entered, took off his hat, and stood before the hammock, whence the captain gave him a stern, searching glance, and opened fire on him with his pipe.
“Forgive me if I intrude, Captain Samson,” said the stranger; “I know you, although you don’t know me. You start to-morrow or next day, I understand, for Melbourne?”