There we
were all in a bunch, the dog, Mr and Mrs Mangrove, and Thomas Cringle,
gentleman, such in appearance as I shall shortly describe them.
Old Richard Gasket, Esq., first clambered up the side and made his bow
to the Hon. Captain Transom, who was standing near the gangway, on the
snow--white deck, amidst a group of officers, where every thing was in
the most apple--pie order, himself, both in mind and apparel, the most
polished concern in the ship; while the whole crew, with the exception
of the unfortunate absentees in the cutter, were scrambling, to get a
good view of us.
I have already said, that my uniform was torn to pieces; trowsers ditto;
my shoes had parted company in the quagmire; and as for hat, it was left
in my cot. I had a dirty bandage tied round my neck, performing the
twofold office of a cravat and a dressing to my wound; while the blood
from the scratches had dried into black streaks adown and across my face
and paws, and I was altogether so begrimed with mud that my mother would
not have known me. Dick made his salaam, and then took up a position
beside the sally--port, with an important face, like a showman
exhibiting wild beastesses, a regular "stir--him--up--with--a--long
pole" sort of look. I followed him "This is Lieutenant Cringle, Captain
Transom."
"The devil it is!" said Transom, trying in vain to keep his gravity.
"Why, I see it is--How do you do, Mr Cringle? glad to see you.
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