e important matter, however, than the cooling of my mutton was
troubling me. I had heard Cludde call for wine and dice, from which
it was clear that he did not intend to leave yet awhile. There was
no way out except by going through the inn taproom, and I was not
inclined to face Dick Cludde there, for he would of a certainty
make some sneering or belittling remark, and my temper being not of
the meekest I feared things might come to a brawl. Not that I cared
a fig's end for Cludde, or feared any ill result from a personal
encounter; but I knew the inn was a property of Sir Richard's, who
would speedily find a new tenant if Dick got a broken head there.

There was nothing for it but to stay where I was, and bear with
what patience I might the interruption to my scarcely begun
journey. So I sat in my chair, and even through the closed door
could hear the loud voices of the naval men and the rattle of the
dice on the board. They called often for more wine, and grew more
and more boisterous as their potations lengthened, giving me a hope
that they would by and by be so fuddled as to make it possible for
me to escape unrecognized. But this hope was soon dashed.

"Let's have another bottle!" cried one of the three; his speech was
very thick. "Let's have another."

"No, no," said another. "You've had enough, Kirkby; and Cludde
there is half asleep already."

"Ads bobs, Walton," returned the man addressed as Kirkby, "are you
growing like Benbow? No wine, no gentlemen! What's things comm' to,
I say, when a fellow like Benbow, no gentleman"--(he pronounced it
"gemman")--"flies his flag on a king's ship!"

And then, being perfectly tipsy, he launched out into violent abuse
of Joe Punchard's captain, who was, it is true, a rough and ready
seaman, and, I must own, somewhat uncouth in his manners. From his
words I learned that Kirkby had been a lieutenant on Benbow's ship,
and was deeply incensed that any one who was not a "gemman" should
have had the right to give him orders. For a full half hour he
inveighed against that brave man, the head and front of whose
offense appeared to be that he rated bravery more highly than
blood, and seamanship than breeding, and often took sides with the
tars against their officers.

"Why, what d'ye think of this now?" cried Kirkby. "'Twas on
Portsmouth Hard, and a dirty old apple woman shoved her basket
under my nose and begged me to buy, and wouldn't be denied, and
followed me whining up t