But Jermin quickly recovered
himself, when for a time they had it every way, dragging each other
about, bumping their heads against the projecting beams, and
returning each other's blows the first favourable opportunity that
offered. Unfortunately, Jermin at last slipped and fell; his foe
seating himself on his chest, and keeping him down. Now this was one
of those situations in which the voice of counsel, or reproof, comes
with peculiar unction. Nor did Beauty let the opportunity slip. But
the mate said nothing in reply, only foaming at the mouth and
struggling to rise.
Just then a thin tremor of a voice was heard from above. It was the
captain; who, happening to ascend to the quarter-deck at the
commencement of the scuffle, would gladly have returned to the cabin,
but was prevented by the fear of ridicule. As the din increased, and
it became evident that his officer was in serious trouble, he thought
it would never do to stand leaning over the bulwarks, so he made his
appearance on the forecastle, resolved, as his best policy, to treat
the matter lightly.
"Why, why," he begun, speaking pettishly, and very fast, "what's all
this about? - Mr. Jermin, Mr. Jermin - carpenter, carpenter; what are
you doing down there? Come on deck; come on deck."
Whereupon Doctor Long Ghost cries out in a squeak, "Ah! Miss Guy, is
that you? Now, my dear, go right home, or you'll get hurt."
"Pooh, pooh! you, sir, whoever you are, I was not speaking to you;
none of your nonsense. Mr. Jermin, I was talking to you; have the
kindness to come on deck, sir; I want to see you."
"And how, in the devil's name, am I to get there?" cried the mate,
furiously. "Jump down here, Captain Guy, and show yourself a man. Let
me up, you Chips! unhand me, I say! Oh! I'll pay you for this, some
day! Come on, Captain Guy!"
At this appeal, the poor man was seized with a perfect spasm of
fidgets. "Pooh, pooh, carpenter; have done with your nonsense! Let
him up, sir; let him up! Do you hear? Let Mr. Jermm come on deck!"
"Go along with you, Paper Jack," replied Beauty; "this quarrel's
between the mate and me; so go aft, where you belong!"
As the captain once more dipped his head down the scuttle to make
answer, from an unseen hand he received, full in the face, the
contents of a tin can of soaked biscuit and tea-leaves. The doctor
was not far off just then. Without waiting for anything more, the
discomfited gentleman, with both hands to his streaming face,
retreated to the quarter-deck.
A few moments more, and Jermin, forced to a compromise, followed
after, in his torn frock and scarred face, looking for all the world
as if he had just disentangled himself from some intricate piece of
machinery.
