s
bid--but what do you mean by calling me a whelp? I am no more a whelp
than yourself!"

"Oh, you are not, a'n't you?" said Murphy, seizing me by one of my ears,
which he pulled so unmercifully that he altered the shape of it very
considerably, making it something like the lee-board of a Dutch schuyt.

This was not to be borne; though, as I was but thirteen, he seventeen,
and a very stout fellow, I should rather not have sought an action with
him. But he had begun it; my honour was at stake, and I only wonder I
had not drawn my dirk, and laid him dead at my feet. Fortunately for
him, the rage I was in made me forget I had it by my side: though I
remembered my uniform, the disgrace brought upon it, and the admiration
of the chambermaid, as well as the salute of the sentinel; all which
formed a combustible in my brain. I went off like a flash, and darted
my fist (the only weapon I had been most accustomed to wield) into the
left eye of my adversary, with a force and precision which Cribb would
have applauded. Murphy staggered back with the blow, and for a moment I
flattered myself he had had enough of it.

But no--alas, this was a day of disappointments! he had only retreated
to take a spring; he then came on me like the lifeguards at Waterloo,
and his charge was irresistible. I was upset, pummelled, thumped,
kicked, and should probably have been the subject of a coroner's inquest
had not the waiter and chambermaid run in to my rescue. The tongue of
the latter was particularly active in my favour: unluckily for me, she
had no other weapon near her, or it would have gone hard with Murphy.
"Shame!" said she, "for such a great lubberly creature to beat such a
poor, little, innocent, defenceless fellow as that. What would his
mamma say to see him treated so?"

"Damn his mamma, and you too," said Pat, "look at my eye."

"Damn your eye," said the waiter: "it's a pity he had not served the
other one the same way; no more than you deserve for striking a child;
the boy is game, and that's more than you are; he is worth as many of
you as will stand between this and the iron chair at Barbican."

"I'd like to see him duck'd in it," said the maid.

While this was going on, I had resumed my defensive attitude. I had
never once complained, and had gained the good-will of all the
bystanders, among whom now appeared my captain and his friends. The
blood was streaming from my mouth, and I bore the marks of discipline
from