_I_ don't get the horrors off glasses
o' brown sherry.'
"'What 'ave you got now?' I says.
"'_I_ ain't an officer,' 'e says. '_My_ sword won't be handed back to me
at the end o' the court-martial on account o' my little weaknesses, an' no
stain on my character. I'm only a pore beggar of a Red Marine with
eighteen years' service, an' why for,' says he, wringin' 'is hands like
this all the time, 'must I chuck away my pension, sub-lootenant or no
sub-lootenant? Look at 'em,' he says, 'only look at 'em. Marines fallin'
in for small-arm drill!'
"The leathernecks was layin' aft at the double, an' a more insanitary set
of accidents I never wish to behold. Most of 'em was in their shirts. They
had their trousers on, of course--rolled up nearly to the knee, but what I
mean is belts over shirts. Three or four 'ad _our_ caps, an' them that had
drawn helmets wore their chin-straps like Portugee earrings. Oh, yes; an'
three of 'em 'ad only one boot! I knew what our bafflin' tattics was goin'
to be, but even I was mildly surprised when this gay fantasia of Brazee
drummers halted under the poop, because of an 'ammick in charge of our
Navigator, an' a small but 'ighly efficient landin'-party.
"''Ard astern both screws!' says the Navigator. 'Room for the captain's
'ammick!' The captain's servant--Cockburn 'is name was--had one end, an'
our newly promoted Antonio, in a blue slop rig, 'ad the other.
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