"The old man makes a great show o' wakin' up from sweet slumbers. 'Mistah
Ducane,' he says, 'what is this painful interregnum?' or words to that
effect. Ducane takes one step to the front, an' salutes: 'Only 'nother
case of attempted assassination, Sir,' he says.
"'Is that all?' says the old man, while Maclean sits on Glass's collar
button. 'Take him away,' 'e says, 'he knows the penalty.'"
"Ah! I suppose that is the 'invincible _morgue_ Britannic in the presence
of brutally provoked mutiny,'" I muttered, as I turned over the pages of
M. de C.
"So, Glass, 'e was led off kickin' an' squealin', an' hove down the ladder
into 'is Sergeant's volupshus arms. 'E run Glass forward, an' was all for
puttin' 'im in irons as a maniac.
"'You refill your waterjacket and cool off!' says Glass, sittin' down
rather winded. 'The trouble with you is you haven't any imagination.'
"'Haven't I? I've got the remnants of a little poor authority though,' 'e
says, lookin' pretty vicious.
"'You 'ave?' says Glass. 'Then for pity's sake 'ave some proper feelin'
too. I'm goin' to be shot this evenin'. You'll take charge o' the firin'-
party.'
"Some'ow or other, that made the Sergeant froth at the mouth. 'E 'ad no
more play to his intellects than a spit-kid. 'E just took everything as it
come. Well, that was about all, I think.... Unless you'd care to have me
resume my narrative."
We resumed on the old terms, but with rather less hot water.
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