“The old man—so ’Op told me—stayed on the bridge, brought up on a dead centre. Number One was similarly, though lesser, impressed, but o’ course ’is duty was to think of ’is fine white decks an’ the blood. ’Arf a mo’, Sir,’ he says, when the old man was for leavin’. ‘We have to wait for the burial, which I am informed takes place immejit.’
“‘It’s beyond me,’ says the owner. ‘There was general instructions for an execution, but I never knew I had such a dependable push of mountebanks aboard,’ he says. ‘I’m all cold up my back, still.’
“The Marines carried the corpse below. Then the bugle give us some more ‘Dead March,’ Then we ’eard a splash from a bow six-pounder port, an’ the bugle struck up a cheerful tune. The whole lower deck was complimentin’ Glass, ’oo took it very meek. ’E is a good actor, for all ’e’s a leatherneck.
“‘Now,’ said the old man, ‘we must turn over Antonio. He’s in what I have ’eard called one perspirin’ funk.’
“Of course, I’m tellin’ it slow, but it all ’appened much quicker. We run down our trampo—without o’ course informin’ Antonio of ’is ’appy destiny—an’ inquired of ’er if she had any use for a free and gratis stowaway. Oh, yes? she said she’d be highly grateful, but she seemed a shade puzzled at our generosity, as you might put it, an’ we lay by till she lowered a boat. Then Antonio—who was un’appy, distinctly un’appy—was politely requested to navigate elsewhere, which I don’t think he looked for. ’Op was deputed to convey the information, an’ ’Op got in one sixteen-inch kick which ’oisted ’im all up the ladder. ’Op ain’t really vindictive, an’ ’e’s fond of the French, especially the women, but his chances o’ kicking lootenants was like the cartridge—reduced to a minimum.
“The boat ’adn’t more than shoved off before a change, as you might say, came o’er the spirit of our dream. The old man says, like Elphinstone an’ Bruce in the Portsmouth election when I was a boy: ‘Gentlemen,’ he says, ‘for gentlemen you have shown yourselves to be—from the bottom of my heart I thank you. The status an’ position of our late lamented shipmate made it obligato,’ ’e says, ‘to take certain steps not strictly included in the regulations. An’ nobly,’ says ’e, ‘have you assisted me. Now,’ ’e says, ‘you hold the false and felonious reputation of bein’ the smartest ship in the Service. Pigsties,’ ’e says, ‘is plane trigonometry alongside our present disgustin’ state. Efface the effects of this indecent orgy,’ he says. ‘Jump, you lop-eared, flat-footed, butter-backed Amalekites! Dig out, you briny-eyed beggars!’”
“Do captains talk like that in the Navy, Mr. Pyecroft?” I asked.
“I’ve told you once I only give the grist of his arguments. The Bosun’s mate translates it to the lower deck, as you may put it, and the lower deck springs smartly to attention. It took us half the night ’fore we got ’er anyway ship-shape; but by sunrise she was beautiful as ever, and we resoomed. I’ve thought it over a lot since; yes, an’ I’ve thought a lot of Antonio trimmin’ coal in that tramp’s bunkers. ’E must ’ave been highly surprised. Wasn’t he?”
“He was, Mr. Pyecroft,” I responded. “But now we’re talking of it, weren’t you all a little surprised?”
“It come as a pleasant relief to the regular routine,” said Mr. Pyecroft. “We appreciated it as an easy way o’ workin’ for your country. But—the old man was right—a week o’ similar manœuvres would ’ave knocked our moral double-bottoms bung out. Now, couldn’t you oblige with Antonio’s account of Glass’s execution?”