“You rascal, are you laughing at me?”—and he shook his fist in my face.
“No, sir; shouldn’t dare to laugh at an officer in command,” I replied, as seriously as possible; and this mollified him, for he replied:
“Well, I don’t think you would, at least not at me—it wouldn’t be safe. But can you tell a good pig from a bad one?”
“Aye, aye, sir!”
“Well, then, look you, boy; I can’t spare any of my fellows, so at sundown, by which time the Chinaman will be near us, take the boat and a couple of your piratical companions, and ask the Chinese fellow for a couple of his pigs.”
“Aye, aye, sir; but am I to steal them, or pay for them?”
“Why, you rogue, do you take me for a pirate? No; I will write you a requisition, which will be sufficient for the Chinese skipper; for if he shows it to the authorities at Batavia, he will be paid.”
“But,” said I, remembering the size of the prahu’s boats, “there is no boat that will hold them.”
“Don’t talk, boy; orders are orders, and must be obeyed,” replied the pompous little chief. “If they won’t fit, they must be made to fit.”
“The boat the pigs, or the pigs the boat?”