Page 102 - for-the-term-of-his-natural-life

the keys of the prison himself from the non-commissioned
officer whose duty it was to keep them, and saw that the
howitzer on the lower deck was loaded with grape. It was a
quarter to seven when Pine and he took their station at the
main hatchway, determined to watch until morning.
At a quarter past seven, any curious person looking
through the window of Captain Blunt’s cabin would have
seen an unusual sight. That gallant commander was sitting
on the bed-place, with a glass of rum and water in his hand,
and the handsome waiting-maid of Mrs. Vickers was seated
on a stool by his side. At a first glance it was perceptible
that the captain was very drunk. His grey hair was mat-
ted all ways about his reddened face, and he was winking
and blinking like an owl in the sunshine. He had drunk a
larger quantity of wine than usual at dinner, in sheer de-
light at the approaching assignation, and having got out the
rum bottle for a quiet ‘settler’ just as the victim of his fasci-
nations glided through the carefully-adjusted door, he had
been persuaded to go on drinking.
‘Cuc-come, Sarah,’ he hiccuped. ‘It’s all very fine, my lass,
but you needn’t be so—hic—proud, you know. I’m a plain
sailor—plain s’lor, Srr’h. Ph’n’as Bub—blunt, commander
of the Mal-Mal- Malabar. Wors’ ‘sh good talkin’?’
Sarah allowed a laugh to escape her, and artfully pro-
truded an ankle at the same time. The amorous Phineas
lurched over, and made shift to take her hand.
‘You lovsh me, and I—hic—lovsh you, Sarah. And a pre-
shus tight little craft you—hic—are. Giv’sh—kiss, Sarah.’
Sarah got up and went to the door.

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