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 the road, and out of all patience I turns
round and tips up her basket, and all the apples roll into the mud.
A tar who was smoking against the wall says something under his
breath and begins to gather up the apples. 'Leave that, sirrah!'
says I. He begs my pardon and goes on as before.
"I up with my cane and was laying on for his insolence when Benbow
roars out ('twas under the window of his inn) 'What be you a-doin'
of?' That's how he speaks. 'What be you a-doin' of?' says he.
"'I'm a-teachin' of him manners,' says I.
"'I'll teach you manners,' he roars, and orders me back to my ship,
and humiliates a gemman before a lout with hair as red as fire and
legs that made a circle."
"Why, sure 'twas Joe Punchard," cries Cludde, "a fellow that near
killed a friend o' mine," and he breaks into the old School
distich--
"O, pi, rho, bandy-legged Joe,
Turnip and carrots wherever you go."
and the others screamed with maudlin laughter.
"I know who was the gemman," whispers Mistress Appleby, who had
heard it all.
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