“Better take care, Sam,” growled Teakettle Tom in a low voice. “The Captain’s in there, a-having his breakfast.”
“Oh, is he?” replied Sam, “then I’ll give him a song:—
‘My fairther, he’s a preacher,
A wherry honest man;
My mother, she’s a washy-wom’;
And I’m a true Brit-tan,
With my whack fol lol,’” &c.
I send Francisco to call in Sergeant Pegden. Enter the Sergeant.
“Why, Pegden,” said I, “what’s all this about?”
“Very sorry, sir,” replied the Sergeant; “but I’m afraid Sandwich Sam is a little overtaken.”