unding from within the cabin just like a terrier
dog barking, for I could hear him plainly enough. "You can't gammon me,
my man, though you might take in the first lieutenant! It's `rumatism,'
not rheumatism you're suffering from, you scoundrel! You've been
drinking, that's what's the matter with you; and if I report you to the
cap'en, as I ought, you'll not only lose your stripes before sunset, but
get four dozen as well, and serve you right, too!"

"Faith, yer honour, I haven't tasted a dhrop of anythin' barrin' tay
since yesterday noon at Eight Bells. May I die this minnit if I have,
sor," boldly asserted the accused in a rich Irish brogue that was as
distinct as the doctor's voice. "It's the rheumaticks, sure! I've got
'em in the legs bad this toime and can't hould mesilf up at all, nor
walk more than a choild!"

"Macgilpin, just diagnose this case for me," cried the doctor to his
assistant. "What does he smell of?"

"Whuskey," replied the assistant-surgeon, a rawboned expert from
Edinburgh, who had only recently donned Her Majesty's uniform and
brought his north-country accent with him when he came southwards.
"There's nae doot aboot that. He smells o' whuskey, and bad whuskey,
tae!"

"Begorrah, yer nose is wrong, sor, and the doctor's roight, as he always
is, sor, beggin' yer pardon," said the culprit, confessing his offence
in his anxiety to stand up for the medical insight of the chief, with
whom he had served before and whose professional pride he knew how to
work upon. "It was rhum, sure enough."

"You rascal!" shouted out Dr Nettleby. "Why, not a moment ago you
swore you hadn't tasted a drop of anything but tea alone since
yesterday."

"Faith, yer honner, I didn't know it wor rhum till too late, sor. I
sware, sor, I droonk it out av a taypot."

"Out of a teapot, man?"

"Yis, sor, I'll till yer honner how it wor, sure," explained the wily
fellow, who could tell from the doctor's change of tone that his offence
was condoned and that he need fear no worse consequences now than one of
his usual lectures, which only went in at one ear and out at the other,
as Dr Nettleby himself said. "I wint over to the rendywoo last noight
be the cap'en's orders, sor, fur to say if there wor any more hands
awaitin' to jine. Faith an' there I mates me wife's first cousin,
Bridget O'Halloran, as is merried now be the same token to Sargint
Lintstock."

"Sergeant Lintstock?"

"Ay, sor, that same, which mak