This warning was necessary, for Georgie (who is of an inquiring character) had placed his hands amongst the worms with results. He uttered an exclamation of pain. "Ah, I thought so!" cried the mariner, looking at my charge's travel-stained palm; "you have been bitten by a blue doctor. Well, all you have to do is to climb up to the moat under that there castle and find some mote weed. Put the weed on the spot and the pain will go like magic."
"But its quite a mile up hill," observed the still depressed Barnwell. "What shall I do while I am going? It hurts me fearfully."
"My dear Georgie," said Jacky, who had now reassumed his customary demeanour, "pray be guided by the advice of this worthy and experienced person. I feel sure that what he recommends is salutary. And as to what you should do while mounting the undoubtedly lofty heights leading to the castle's moat, I would recommend a policy of cheerful submission. Bear it, my dear boy, with fortitude, and smile while you perform the heroic operation. During your absence, I myself will hold the fishing-rod. This concession should tend to assuage your anguish. And, in conclusion, let me hazard the hope that when you return from the moat with your hand convalescent, after an application of moat weed, you will find that I have had good sport. I trust to be in a position to present you with either a specimen of a salmon, a sole, a flying fish, or a tittlebat—of course, any one or all of them for a suitable consideration."
Georgie waited no longer, but hastened away after kicking in the direction of his cherished companion.
"It's a painful bite when you ain't accustomed to it," observed the mariner. "Not that I mind 'em. Look here, all them's bites and stings."
And the man stretched forth his hand, which was certainly covered with a variegated assortment of scars.
"What did that?" asked Jacky, with a stronger feeling of curiosity than an appreciation of grammar.
"That was done, Sir, by a spiteful cat," replied the mariner. "It is a nasty worm is the spiteful cat. Cut them up into halves and they will bite you still. But there, the fish is awful fond of them! Why, these here blood-clotters are nothing to them, no more are these lug worms."
With this, the man threw down what appeared to be a small but, for its size, corpulent sea-serpent.
"It's no good," he exclaimed, scornfully. "The fish won't touch any of that lot after they've lost their shape. Look at that one, it's foolish to call it a worm now, ain't it? Now I will take this blue doctor and bait the line for you. See, I run the hook through the head to the hip. That will fetch a mullet. It leaves me half. But you must take a whole one for a codling."