Smallbones rose, but his temper now rose also; he forgot all that he was
to suffer, from indignation against the dog: with flashing eyes, and
whimpering with rage, he cried out, as the tears fell, and his arms
swung round, "I'll not stand this--I'll jump overboard--that I will:
fourteen times has that ere dog a-bitten me this week. I'd sooner die at
once, than be made dog's-meat of in this here way."
"Silence, you mutinous rascal, or I'll put you in irons."
"I wish you would--irons don't bite, if they hold fast. I'll run away--I
don't mind being hung--that I don't--starved to death, bitten to death
in this here way--"
"Silence, sir. It's over-feeding that makes you saucy."
"The Lord forgive you'" cried Smallbones, with surprise; "I've not had a
full meal"
"A full meal, you rascal! there's no filling a thing like you--hollow
from top to bottom, like a bamboo."
"And what I does get," continued Smallbones, with energy, "I pays dear
for; that ere dog flies at me, if I takes a bit o' biscuit. I never has
a bite without getting a bite, and it's all my own allowance."
"A proof of his fidelity, and an example to you, you wretch," replied
the lieutenant, fondly patting the dog on the head.
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