The old tar laughed, chuckled, and rubbed his hands in an ecstacy
of delight at the indignation and disappointment visible in the
countenance of the Scotch Esculapius, who, angry as he was, wisely
held his tongue. Not so the Frenchman; his rage scarcely knew
bounds - he danced in a state of most ludicrous excitement, he
shook his fist at our rough captain, and screamed at the top of his
voice -
"Sacre, you bete! You tink us dog, ven you try to pass your puppies
on us for babies?"
"Hout, man, don't be angry," said the Scotchman, stifling a laugh;
"you see 'tis only a joke!"
"Joke! me no understand such joke. Bete!" returned the angry
Frenchman, bestowing a savage kick on one of the unoffending pups
which was frisking about his feet. The pup yelped; the slut barked
and leaped furiously at the offender, and was only kept from biting
him by Sam, who could scarcely hold her back for laughing; the
captain was uproarious; the offended Frenchman alone maintained
a severe and dignified aspect. The dogs were at length dismissed,
and peace restored.
After some further questioning from the officials, a Bible was
required for the captain to take an oath. Mine was mislaid, and
there was none at hand.
"Confound it!" muttered the old sailor, tossing over the papers
in his desk; "that scoundrel, Sam, always stows my traps out of
the way." Then taking up from the table a book which I had been
reading, which happened to be Voltaire's History of Charles XII.,
he presented it, with as grave an air as he could assume, to the
Frenchman.
