"
"And," pursued the Bo'sun, still busy with his whisker and
abstracted of eye--"and I were to say as you was now free to come
out of they stocks--"
"Aha, Jerry! even the most Roman of fathers can relent, then. Out
with the key, Jerry! Egad! I can positively taste that beef from here;
unlock me, Jerry, that I may haste to pay my respects to Roman parent,
uncle, and beef--last, but not least, Jerry--"
"Always supposing," added the Bo'sun, giving a final twist to his
whisker, "that you've 'ad time to think better on it, d' ye see, and
change your mind, Master Horatio, my Lord."
Barnabas pricked up his ears; a lord, and in the stocks! preposterous!
and yet surely these were the boots, and clothes, and hat of a lord.
"Change my mind, Jerry!" exclaimed his Lordship, "impossible; you
know I never change my mind. What! yield up my freedom for a mess of
beef and tongue, or even a brace of cold fowl--"
"Not to mention a cold biled 'am, Master Horatio, sir."
"No, Jerry, not for all the Roman parents, rounds of beef,
tyrannical uncles and cold hams in England. Tempt me no more, Jerry;
Bo'sun, avaunt, and leave me to melancholy and emptiness.
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