PART TWO: The Sea-cook
Chapter 11: What I Heard in the Apple Barrel
(continued)
"Why, how many tall ships, think ye, now, have I seen
laid aboard? And how many brisk lads drying in the sun
at Execution Dock?" cried Silver. "And all for this
same hurry and hurry and hurry. You hear me? I seen a
thing or two at sea, I have. If you would on'y lay
your course, and a p'int to windward, you would ride in
carriages, you would. But not you! I know you. You'll
have your mouthful of rum tomorrow, and go hang."
"Everybody knowed you was a kind of a chapling, John;
but there's others as could hand and steer as well as
you," said Israel. "They liked a bit o' fun, they did.
They wasn't so high and dry, nohow, but took their
fling, like jolly companions every one."
"So?" says Silver. "Well, and where are they now? Pew
was that sort, and he died a beggar-man. Flint was,
and he died of rum at Savannah. Ah, they was a sweet
crew, they was! On'y, where are they?"
"But," asked Dick, "when we do lay 'em athwart, what
are we to do with 'em, anyhow?"
"There's the man for me!" cried the cook admiringly.
"That's what I call business. Well, what would you
think? Put 'em ashore like maroons? That would have
been England's way. Or cut 'em down like that much
pork? That would have been Flint's, or Billy Bones's."
"Billy was the man for that," said Israel. "'Dead men
don't bite,' says he. Well, he's dead now hisself; he
knows the long and short on it now; and if ever a rough
hand come to port, it was Billy."
"Right you are," said Silver; "rough and ready. But
mark you here, I'm an easy man--I'm quite the
gentleman, says you; but this time it's serious. Dooty
is dooty, mates. I give my vote--death. When I'm in
Parlyment and riding in my coach, I don't want none of
these sea-lawyers in the cabin a-coming home, unlooked
for, like the devil at prayers. Wait is what I say;
but when the time comes, why, let her rip!"
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