Part 32 (1/2)

”Afore I'm took to the dagarrier's?”

”Yes, indeed.”

”See here, wife!” said Captain Pharo, completely broken down--for we were all suffering, as usual, from the generic emptiness and craving of our natures for food--”major says 't we're goin' up to git baited, afore I'm took to the dagarrier's.”

”I wish 't you could have your picture took jest as you look now, Captain Pharo Kobbe!” exclaimed his wife kindly and admiringly.

At the inn the most conspicuous object in the reception-room was a sink of water, with basins for ablutions.

Captain Pharo waited, visibly holding the leash on his impatience, for a ”runner”--or travelling salesman--to complete his bath, when he plunged in gleefully, face and hands. Mrs. Kobbe drew him away with dismay. The paste that had endured the whole sea voyage he had now ruthlessly washed from one side of his head, the locks on the other side still standing out ebullient.

”'M sorry, wife,” said the captain. But the captain, smelling the smoke from the kitchen, was not the forlorn companion of our treacherous voyage. ”I reckon she'll stan' out ag'in, mebbe,” said he, ”soon 's she 's dry.” But he winked at me with daring inconsequence.

In vain Mrs. Kobbe tried to flay out those locks to their former att.i.tude with the hotel brush and comb, which the runner had finally abandoned.

”Poo! poo! woman, never mind,” said the captain; ”one side 's fa'r to wind'ard, anyhow. I can have a profiler took, jest showin' one side on me, ye know.”

”I didn't want a profiler,” lamented Mrs. Kobbe; ”I wanted a full-facer.”

”Wal, wal, woman, I hain't washed my face off, have I?” said the captain cheerfully, resurrecting his pipe. ”Put up them thar' public belayin' pins,” he added, referring to the hotel brush and comb, ”and don't le's worry 'bout nothin' more, 'long as we're goin' to be baited.”

The ”runner” meanwhile was looking at us with the pale, scientific interest of one who covets curiosities which he yet dare not approach too intimately.

”Do you smoke before eating, sir?” said he to the captain, at the same time standing off a little way from the elephant.

”Poo! poo!” said Captain Pharo, turning the whole flower indifferently to his questioner, and drawing a match with a slight, genteel uplifting of the leg; ”I smoke, as the 'postle says, on all 'ccasions t' all men, in season an' outer season, an' 'specially when I'm a darn min' ter.”

The runner, withered, vanquished by horse and foot, thereafter regarded us silently.

At the table I made haste first of all to catch the eye of our waiter, who was also the proprietor of the little inn. I pressed a wordless plea into his hand. ”We are eccentric,” I murmured in explanation, ”and you must look well to our wants.”

He winked at me as though we had been life-long cronies. ”Eccentric all ye wan' ter,” said he, ”the more on 'er the better.”

I pointed to the captain, who, the table-cloth before him, sat rigid with hunger.

”The ladies will consider the bill of fare,” I said, ”and request that Captain Kobbe may be first served.”

”Which'll ye have--boil' salmon, corn' beef, beef-steak, veal stew, liver an' bacon?” quickly bawled the proprietor into the captain's ear.

”Sartin, sartin, fetch 'em along,” said the compliant and nervy captain, ”and don't stand thar' no'ratin' about 'em--'ceptin' liver,”

he added. ”I hain't got so low down yit 's to eat liver.”

The runner, sitting with a few guests at another table, served by the proprietor's daughter, gazed at us with fixed vision, not even having taken up his knife and fork, for that pale, scientific interest which absorbed him.

”I know that squar's are fash'nable,” said the captain, taking up the napkin by his plate on the point of his knife and giving it an airy toss into the middle of the table; ”but I'd ruther have the sea-room.

Is your mess all fillers to-day, or have ye got some wrappers?”

”Wrappers? Oh, certainly--doughnuts, mince pie, apple pie, an' rhubub pie.”

”Sartin, sartin; fetch 'em along. I'll try a double decker o'