Page:Dickens - A Child s History of England, 1900.djvu/672

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242
PERILS OF CERTAIN PRISONERS.

picture; the sky, a picture. In that country there are two rainy seasons in the year. One sets in at about our English midsummer; the other, about a fortnight after our English Michaelmas. It was the beginning of August at that time; the first of these rainy seasons was well over; and everything was in its most beautiful growth, and had its loveliest look upon it.

"They enjoy themselves here," I says to Charker, turning surly. " This is better than private-soldiering."

We had come down to the beach, to be friendly with the boat's-crew who were camped and hutted there; and we were approaching toward their quarters over the sand, when Christian George King comes up from the landing-place at a wolf s trot, crying, " Yup, So-Jeer!"—which was that Sambo pilot's barbarous way of saying. Halloo, Soldier! I have stated myself to be a man of no learning, and, if I entertain certain prejudices, I hope allowance may be made. I will now confess to one. It may be a right one or it may be a wrong one; but I never did like natives, except in the form of oysters.

So, when Christian George King, who was individually unpleasant to me besides, comes a-trotting along the sand, cluckhig "Yup, So-Jeer!" I had a thundering good mind to let fly at him with my right. I certainly should have done, but that it would have exposed me to reprimand.

"Yup, So-Jeer!" says he. "Bad job."

" What do you mean?" says I.

"Yup, So-Jeer!" says he, " ship leakee."

"Ship leaky?" says I.

"Iss," says he, with a nod that looked as if it were jerked out of him by a most violent hiccup—which is the way with those savages.

I cast my eyes at Charker, and we both heard the pumps going aboard the sloop, and saw the signal run up, " Come on board; hands wanted from the shore." In no time some of the sloop's liberty-men were already running down to the water's edge, and the party of seamen, under orders against the pirates, were putting off to the Columbus in two boats.

"Oh Christian George King, sar, berry sorry!" says that Sambo vagabond, then. "Christian George King cry, English fashion!" His English fashion of crying was to screw his black knuckles into his eyes, howl like