"
"Never mind, Mr Leechline," said our gallant captain. "Mr Bandalier--a
song if you please."
Now the young soldiers on board happened to be men of the world, and
Bandalier, who did not sing, turned off the request with a good--humoured
laugh, alleging his inability with much suavity; but the old rough Turk of
a tar--bucket chose to fire at this, and sang out--"Oh, if you don't choose
to sing when you are asked, and to sport your damned fine airs"
"Mr Crowfoot"
"Captain," said the agent, piqued at having his title by courtesy withheld.
"By no mean," said Major Sawrasp, who had spoken--"I believe I am speaking
to Lieutenant Crowfoot, agent for transport No.--, wherein it so happens I
am commanding officer--so"--
Old Crowfoot saw he was in the wrong box, and therefore hove about, and
backed out in good time--making the amende as smoothly as his gruff nature
admitted, and trying to look pleased.
Presently the same bothersome mate came down again--"The strange sail is
creeping up on our quarter, sir."
"Ay?" said Crowfoot, "how does she lay?"
"She is hauled by the wind on the starboard tack, sir," continued the mate.
We now went on deck, and found that our suspicious friend had shortened
sail, as if he had made us out, and wag afraid to approach, or was lying by
until nightfall.
Sawrasp had before this, with the tact and ease of a soldier and a
gentleman, soldered his feud with Crowfoot, and, with the rest of the
lobsters, was full of fight.
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