Page 91 - for-the-term-of-his-natural-life

‘There she is, right enough,’ growled Mr. Gabbett, as if in
continuation of a previous remark. ‘Flash as ever, and look-
ing this way, too.’
‘I don’t see no wipe,’ said the practical Moocher.
‘Patience is a virtue, most noble knuckler!’ says the Crow,
with affected carelessness. ‘Give the young woman time.’
‘Blowed if I’m going to wait no longer,’ says the giant,
licking his coarse blue lips. ‘‘Ere we’ve been bluffed off day
arter day, and kep’ dancin’ round the Dandy’s wench like
a parcel o’ dogs. The fever’s aboard, and we’ve got all ready.
What’s the use o’ waitin’? Orfice, or no orfice, I’m for biz-
ness at once!—‘
‘—There, look at that,’ he added, with an oath, as the fig-
ure of Maurice Frere appeared side by side with that of the
waiting-maid, and the two turned away up the deck togeth-
er.
‘It’s all right, you confounded muddlehead!’ cried the
Crow, losing patience with his perverse and stupid com-
panion. ‘How can she give us the office with that cove at
her elbow?’
Gabbett’s only reply to this question was a ferocious
grunt, and a sudden elevation of his clenched fist, which
caused Mr. Vetch to retreat precipitately. The giant did not
follow; and Mr. Vetch, folding his arms, and assuming an
attitude of easy contempt, directed his attention to Sarah
Purfoy. She seemed an object of general attraction, for at
the same moment a young soldier ran up the ladder to the
forecastle, and eagerly bent his gaze in her direction.
Maurice Frere had come behind her and touched her on

0 For the Term of His Natural Life