Mother Careys Chicken | Page 5

his head.
"Yes; he sha'n't hurt you now," cried Mark.
"'Cause dogs' bites don't come in one's pay, eh, cap'n?"
"The dog's all right now, Widgeon," said the captain. "Here, Mark, shut
him in the parlour."
"All right, father! but he won't stir now."
"Come down, my lad," said the captain. "You can climb over the

balustrade."
"Bee-low!" cried the sailor in a gruff, sing-song tone, and loosening his
hold he dropped lightly on to the oil-cloth within a couple of yards of
the dog.
Bruff's head was pressed close down to the floor, but he showed his
teeth and uttered a growl like a lilliputian peal of thunder.
"Quiet!" cried Mark, as Billy Widgeon struck an attitude with his fists
doubled, ready for attack or defence.
"Lor', if you was aboard our ship, wouldn't I heave you overboard fust
chance!" cried the sailor.
"What did you do to the dog?" said the captain angrily.
"I never did nothing at all, sir. I only wanted my umbrella as I stood up
in the corner. Soon as I went to take it he come at me, and if I hadn't
done Jacko and nipped up there he'd have had a piece out of my leg."
As he spoke he went to take the umbrella from the corner, when,
looking upon the movement as an attempt to carry out a robbery, Bruff
uttered another savage growl aid struggled to get free.
"All, would yer!" cried Billy Widgeon, snatching up his umbrella and
holding it by the toe in cudgel-fashion. "Now, then, youngster, lot him
go. Come on, you ugly big-headed lubber. I'm ready for you now."
As he spoke Billy Widgeon did Jacko, as he termed it, again, hopping
about, flourishing his weapon, and giving it a bang down upon the floor
after the fashion of a wild Irishman with his shillelagh.
It was a risky proceeding, for it infuriated the dog, who began to
struggle fiercely, while Mark laughed so heartily that he could hardly
retain his hold.
"That will do, Widgeon," said the captain, wiping his eyes. "Here,
Mark, make that dog friends with him."

"Here, give me the umbrella," said the lad.
"Nay, if I do you'll let him go at me," said the sailor doubtingly.
"Nonsense, man! Give him the umbrella," cried the captain.
The sailor obeyed; and as Mark took it he held it down before the dog,
and then returned it to its owner.
Bruff did not say "All right!" but he gave three pats on the oil-cloth
with his long bushy tail, a sign that he accepted the position, and then
he was allowed to get up.
"Who's afeard!" cried Billy Widgeon, looking from one to the other. "I
say, I was too many for him, sir."
"Yes," said the captain; "and what about my Indian jar?"
"Ah! that was the dog's fault, cap'n," said the man earnestly.
"Dog's fault!" said Captain Strong. "You knocked it down and broke it,
and I shall stop the cost out of your pay."
Billy Widgeon stood for a moment looking solemn. Then, as if he had
suddenly been engaged as a dentist's specimen, he bared all his fine
white teeth in the broadest of broad grins.
"Nay, skipper," he said, "you wouldn't do that. Me and my shipmets
wouldn't want to make another v'yge with you if you was that sort o'
capt'n. I'll buy you another one when we gets to Chany. Here's off!"
He nodded to all in turn, went out of the door, rattled his umbrella on
the iron railings in front, making Bruff utter a low discontented growl,
and then, as the door was closed, the growl became a deeply-drawn
breath like a sigh, while putting his nose to the crack at the bottom, he
stood with his ears twitching, giving forth a faint whine now and then,
apparently not quite satisfied as to whether he had done his duty, and
uneasy in his mind about that umbrella. "You will have to be careful
with that dog, Mark," said the captain. "He must be tamed down, or we

shall have worse mischief than a broken jar."
"He thought the man was stealing the umbrella," pleaded Mark on
behalf of his favourite.
"Then he must be taught to think sensibly, my lad. Billy Widgeon's one
of my best fore-mast men, and I can't afford to have my sailors used to
feed your dog."
"You're joking, father."
"Ah! but that would be no joke," said the captain. "I should not approve
of his devouring the lowest and most worthless class of tramp, or a
savage; but when it comes to sailors--"
"What nonsense, father!" cried Mark.
"Why, Mark, my boy, what a good idea! I think I'll borrow that dog and
take him to sea."
"Take him to sea,