Jack at Sea | Page 9

George Manville Fenn
sir; you asked me."
"Well, there, go on," cried Jack pettishly.
"I only meant you were like him in some ways. You know, sir, I give
one of the boys threppuns for him two years ago, when there was the
nest at the top of the big ellum."

"Oh yes, I've seen the bird."
"I wasn't sure, sir, for you never did take much notice of that sort of
thing. Why, some young gents is never happy unless they're keeping all
kinds of pets--pigeons and rabbits and hedgehogs and such."
"I wish you wouldn't talk quite so much," cried Jack sharply.
"There, sir, that's what it is. You want stirring up. I like that. You
haven't spoke to me so sharp since I don't know when."
"What, do you like me to scold you?"
"I'd like you to bully me, and chuck things at me too, sooner than see
you sit moping all day as you do, sir. That's what made me say you put
me in mind of my magpie. He sits on his perch all day long with his
feathers, set up, and his tail all broken and dirty, and not a bit o' spirit in
him. He takes the raw meat I cut up for him, but he doesn't eat half of it,
only goes and pokes the bits into holes and corners, and looks as
miserable and moulty as can be. It's because he's always shut up in a
cage, doing just the same things every day, hopping from perch to
perch that often--and back again over and over again, till he hasn't got a
bit of spirit in him. I'm just the same--it's boots and knives and plate
and coal-scuttles and answer the bells, till I get tired of a night and lie
abed asking myself whether a strong chap like me was meant to go on
all his life cleaning boots and knives; and if I was, what's the good of it
all? I'm sick of it, Master Jack, and there's been times when I've been
ready to go and 'list for a soldier, only I don't believe that would be
much better. The toggery's right enough, and you have a sword or a gun,
but it's mostly standing in a row and being shouted at by sergeants. But
now there's a chance of going about and seeing what the world's like,
and its works, and how it goes round, and you say you don't want to go.
Why, it caps me, it do, sir, really."
"Yes," cried Jack angrily; "and it `caps me,' as you call it, to hear a
good servant like you talk about giving up a comfortable place and
want to go on a long and dangerous voyage. Are you not well fed and
clothed and paid, and have you not a good bed?"

"Yes, sir; yes sir; yes, sir," cried Edward; "but a man don't want to be
always comfortable, and well fed, and to sleep on a feather bed. He's a
poor sort of a chap who does. I don't think much of him. It's like being
a blind horse in a clay mill, going round and round and round all his
life. Why, he never gets so much change as to be able to go the other
way round, because if he did the mill wouldn't grind."
"Pooh!" cried Jack sharply. "It is not true: you can have plenty of
change. Clean knives first one day, and boots first the next, and then
begin with the plate."
"Ha--ha! haw--haw! he--he!" cried the man, boisterously, laughing, and
in his enjoyment lifting up one leg and putting it down with a stamp
over and over again.
"Don't stand there laughing like an idiot!" cried Jack angrily. "How
dare you!"
"Can't help it, sir, really, sir; can't help it. You made me. But go on, sir.
Do. Chuck some books at me for being so impudent."
"I will," cried Jack fiercely, "if you don't leave the room."
"That's right, sir; do, sir; it's stirred you up. Why, you have got the stuff
in you, Master Jack. I do believe you could fight after all if you was put
to it. You, sir, actually, sir, making a joke about the knives and boots.
Well, I wouldn't have believed it of you."
"Leave the room, sir!"
"Yes, sir, directly, sir; but do please ask the governor to take me, sir."
"Leave the room, sir!" cried Jack, starting to his feet.
"Certainly, sir, but if you would--"
Whish!--Bang!--Jingle!
In a fit of petulant anger Jack had followed the man's suggestion,

caught up a heavy Greek lexicon, and thrown it with all his might, or
rather with all his weakness, at the servant's head. Edward ducked
down, and the book went through the glass of one of
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