"Yes, a few. I hope you will treat them kindly."
"Oh, leave that to me, sir; I'll give none of them more nor they desarves."
He then thrust out his trident to the captain's steward, with a graceful air, as if he meant to impale him; but it was only for the purpose of presenting the fish on its prongs, as an addition to his honour the captain's dinner.
"I wish it war better; but we've had a sad sickly season down below, and all the dolphins and bonitos are on the doctor's list with influenzie."
During this interview, the men were all standing near the gangway, armed with buckets of water, wet swabs, &c., impatient for the commencement of the fun.
"But I must wish you good-morning, Captain Oakum; I have no time to lose. I have two or three other ships to board this morning."
"Good-morning!"
The band struck up "Off she goes." "Carry on, you lubbers!" said the coachman. Crack went the whip—off pranced the horses—and away whirled the car, which no sooner approached the gangway, than the procession was greeted with torrents of water, and his "godship" was half smothered in his own element. After gasping for breath, and shaking off the superfluous moisture, Neptune and the fair Amphitrite took their station on "the booms," to superintend the operations of the day. The clerk handed to his majesty a list of his new subjects, who were recommended to his peculiar attention.
"Richard Goldie is the first on the list," said Neptune; "send him up!" And away scampered the Tritons (or constables), who were naked to the waist, the upper parts of their bodies being hideously painted, fantastic-looking caps on their heads, and short painted staves in their hands. The main-hatch "grating" was lifted, and up came our friend Richard, blindfolded, between two constables, laughing and joking with his captors as he came along. As soon as he made his appearance, Neptune exclaimed—
"Who have we got here? I ought to know the cut of that younker's jib. Ay, I'm blowed if it isn't the same that was cruising about the other day after a drowning shipmate. One of the right sort that. Just put my mark upon him—give him a touch of the tar-brush, and let him go."