Here a stout pole had been
erected and rigged with block and fall, and from this, a flag
stirred lazily in the gentle wind.
Now before this building, his blue coat laid by, his shirt sleeves
rolled up, his glazed hat on the back of his head, was the Bo'sun,
polishing away at a small, brass cannon that was mounted on a
platform, and singing lustily as he worked. So loudly did he sing,
and so engrossed was he, that he did not look up until he felt
Barnabas touch him. Then he started, turned, stared, hesitated, and,
finally, broke into a smile.
"Ah, it's you, sir,--the young gemman as bore away for Lon'on
alongside Master Horatio, his Lordship!"
"Yes," said Barnabas, extending his hand, "how are you, Bo'sun?"
"Hearty, sir, hearty, I thank ye!" Saying which he touched his
forehead, rubbed his hand upon his trousers, looked at it, rubbed it
again, and finally gave it to Barnabas, though with an air of apology.
"Been making things a bit ship-shape, sir, 'count o' this here day
being a occasion,--but I'm hearty, sir, hearty, I thank ye."
"And the Captain," said Barnabas with some hesitation. "How is the
Captain?"
"The Cap'n, sir," answered the Bo'sun, "the Cap'n is likewise hearty.
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