The gentleman on the box laughed outright, but the boatswain took no notice of it. I began to think in spite of his coarseness that he must be a very important personage, and probably I showed this in my manner, for he went on enlarging on his own importance.
“I tell you, young gentleman, it’s my belief that I have been round the world oftener and seen more strange sights than any man living.”
“I should like to hear some of your adventures,” I said.
“I dare say you would, and if you like to pay me a visit on board the Doris frigate, and will inquire for Mr Jonathan Johnson, the boatswain, I shall be happy to see you and to enlighten your mind a little.”
“Why, that is the ship I am going to join,” I exclaimed; “didn’t Captain Collyer tell you?”
“No, he has not as yet communicated that important matter to me,” answered Mr Jonathan Johnson, twisting his huge nose in a comical way. “But give us your flipper, my hearty,—we are to be shipmates it seems. I like you for your dauntless tongue; if you’ve a spirit to match, you’ll do, and I promise you that you shall some day hear what you shall hear.”
The coach stopped at the George. A seaman, who announced himself as Sam Edkins, Captain Collyer’s coxswain, came up, and touching his hat respectfully to Mr Johnson, helped me off the coach.
“Well, Edkins, have all the officers joined yet?” asked the boatswain.
“All but the second lieutenant; he’s expected aboard to-day, sir,” was the answer.
“What’s his name, Edkins? I hope he’s not a King’s hard bargain, like some lieutenants I have fallen in with within the last hundred years,” said Mr Johnson.