“Andrew,” said Mr. Wallis, imitating his friend's tone of admonition; “if any body asks you to treat 'em, bolt; if any body offers to treat you, retreat!”
“Andrew,” said Mr. Crobble, who was determined to put in his oar, and row in the same boat as his friends; “Andrew,”—“Yes, Sir;” and I touched my hat with due respect, while his two friends bent forward to catch his words. “Andrew,” repeated he, for the third time, “avoid evil communication, and get thee gone from Blackwall, as fast as your legs can carry you—for, there's villainous bad company just landed here—wicked enough to spoil even the immaculate Mr. Cornelius Crobble!”
CHAPTER XI.—The Journey Home.
“Starboard, Tom, starboard!”—“Aye, aye-starboard it is!”
I FOUND myself quite in a strange land upon parting with my master and his friends. It was war-time, and the place was literally swarming with jack-tars.
Taking to the road, for the footway was quite crowded, I soon reached Poplar. Here a large mob impeded my progress. They appeared all moved with extraordinary merriment. I soon distinguished the objects of their mirth. Two sailors, mounted back to back on a cart-horse, were steering for Blackwall. A large horse-cloth served them as a substitute for a saddle, and the merry fellow behind held the reins; he was smoking a short pipe, while his mate was making an observation with his spy-glass.
“Starboard, Tom, starboard!” cried the one in front.
“Aye, aye-starboard it is!” replied his companion, tugging at the rein.