They'd run you
off to church and marry you as sure as a gun."
"Ess!" he cried, delighted. "Ess! 'Zactly." And then, after a frightful
effort to master his stammer, his face the colour of claret, his eyes
buried in their flesh, his old body twitching violently, he burst out
with the boast: "I was d----d handsome feller. Once. Ess! Handsome's
paint. Ho! Ho! Girls mad about me!"
Happiness was restored. We drew our chairs nearer to the fire, filled
our pipes, and laughed away the winter afternoon in the best of good
spirits.
"We've got nothing to complain of," says Mr. Wells. "Everybody is kind
to us. We've got our health, thank God! We've got a roof over our heads.
We've got food in the locker. We've generally got a bit of terbaccer
somewhere about the place. And we've done with the sea." After a pause,
he adds, "When the Call comes, we shall be here to answer it. Early or
late, we shall be ready; me and Old Joe."
Once more he leans across to the pirate. "I'm telling the genneman," he
shouted; "that we've nothing to complain about, that when the Call comes
we shall be ready."
"Ess!" shouts Old Joe cheerfully, with his pipe in the air. "Always
ready! That's me. Always ready. But, don't want to die. Not yet. No! No
fear. Why should I! Happy and jolly I am. Happy and jolly!" And once
more he throws himself back with twitching shoulders, the chin fallen,
the eyes scarcely visible in their bags of flesh, and laughs till the
tears come.
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