A
fight ensued; Smallbones received a severe bite in the leg, which
induced him to seize a handspike, and make a blow with it at the dog's
head, which, if it had been well aimed, would have probably put an end
to all further pilfering. As it was, the handspike descended upon one of
the dog's fore toes, and Snarleyyow retreated, yelling, to the other
side of the forecastle, and as soon as he was out of reach, like all
curs, bayed in defiance.
Smallbones picked up the herring, pulled up his trousers to examine the
bite, poured down an anathema upon the dog, which was, "May you be
starved, as I am, you beast!" and then turned round to go aft, when he
struck against the spare form of Mr Vanslyperken, who, with his hands in
his pocket, and his trumpet under his arm, looked unutterably savage.
"How dare you beat _my_ dog, you villain?" said the lieutenant at last,
choking with passion.
"He's a-bitten my leg through and through, sir," replied Smallbones,
with a face of alarm.
"Well, sir, why have you such thin legs, then?"
"'Cause I gets nothing to fill 'em up with."
"Have you not a herring there, you herring-gutted scoundrel? which, in
defiance of all the rules of the service, you have brought on his
Majesty's quarter-deck, you greedy rascal, and for which I intend--"
"It ar'n't my herring, sir, it be yours--for your breakfast--the only
one that is left out of the half-dozen.
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