“I can do nothin’ more wotiver, nor say nothin’ more wotsomediver, till I’ve tasted that ’ere tipple of yourn.”
The captain rang the bell, and the waiter entered with ham and eggs, buttered toast, and hot coffee for two.
The sailor opened his eyes to their utmost possible width, and made an effort to thrust his hands still deeper into his unfathomable trousers pockets; then he sat bolt upright, and gathering his legs as close under his chair as possible, clasped his knees with his hands, hugged himself, and grinned from ear to ear. After sitting a second or two in that position, he jumped up, and going forward to the table, took up the plate of ham and eggs, as if to make sure that it was a reality, and smelt it.
“Is this your favourite tipple?” he said, on being quite satisfied of the reality of what he saw.
“Coffee is my favourite drink,” replied the captain, laughing. “I never take anything stronger.”
“Ho! you’re a to-teetler?”
“I am. Now, my man, as you have not yet had breakfast, and as you interrupted me in the middle of mine, suppose we sit down and discuss the matter of the whale over this.”
“Well, this is the rummiest way of offerin’ to give a fellow a glass as I ever did come across since I was a tadpole, as sure as my name’s Dick Jones,” remarked the sailor, sitting down opposite the captain, and turning up the cuffs of his coat.
Having filled his mouth to its utmost possible extent, the astonished seaman proceeded, at one and the same time, to masticate and to relate all that he knew in regard to the Termagant.
He said that not only was that vessel in port at that time, but that the same men were still aboard; that the captain—Dixon by name—was still in command, and that the whale which had been seized from the crew of the Red Eric had been sold along with the rest of the cargo. He related; moreover, how that he and his comrades had been very ill-treated by Captain Dixon during the voyage, and that he (Captain D) was, in the opinion of himself and his shipmates, the greatest blackguard afloat, and had made them so miserable by his brutality and tyranny, that they all hoped they might never meet with his like again—not to mention the hopes and wishes of a very unfeeling nature which they one and all expressed in regard to that captain’s future career. Besides all this, he stated that he (Dick Jones) had recognised Captain Dunning when he landed that morning, and had followed him to the cottage with the yellow face and the green door; after which he had taken a turn of half-an-hour or so up and down the street to think what he ought to do, and had at last resolved to tell all that he knew, and offer to stand witness against his captain, which he was then and there prepared to do, at that time or at any future period, wherever he (Captain Dunning) liked, and whenever he pleased, and that there was an end of the whole matter, and that was a fact.