This neck showed above the greasy collar
of a red infantry coat, from which the badges and buttons had long
since vanished; and for the rest the fellow wore a pair of dirty
white drill trousers of French cut, French shoes, and a round
japanned hat; but, so far as a glance could discover, neither shirt
nor underclothing. When the 'longshoremen called for drink he
laughed with a kind of happy shiver, as though rubbing his body round
the inside of his clothes, cast a quick glance at us in our dim
corner, and declared for rum, adding that the Mayor of Falmouth was a
well-meaning old swab, but his liquor wouldn't warm the vitals of a
baby in clouts.
As he announced this I fancied that our persuasions began to have
effect on Captain Coffin, for his eyes blinked as in a strong light,
and he seemed to pull himself together with a shudder; but a moment
later he relapsed again and sat staring.
"Hallo!" said one of the 'longshoremen. "Who's that you're a-coaxin'
of, you two? Old Coffin, eh? Well, take the old shammick home, an'
thank 'ee. We're tired of 'en here."
As I looked up to answer I saw the returned prisoner give a start,
turn slowly about, and peer at us. He seemed to be badly scared,
too, for an instant; for I heard a sudden, sharp click in his
throat--
"E-e-eh? Coffin, is it? Danny Coffin? Oh, good Lord!"
He came towards our corner, still peering, and, as he peered,
crouching to that he spread his palms on his knees.
Pages:
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72