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- 2742
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- CHAPTER XXI.
PROCEEDINGS OF THE CONSUL
The order was instantly obeyed, and the sailors ranged themselves,
facing the consul.
They were a wild company; men of many climes—not at all precise in
their toilet arrangements, but picturesque in their very tatters. My
friend, the Long Doctor, was there too; and with a view, perhaps, of
enlisting the sympathies of the consul for a gentleman in distress, had
taken more than ordinary pains with his appearance. But among the
sailors, he looked like a land-crane blown off to sea, and consorting
with petrels.
The forlorn Rope Yarn, however, was by far the most remarkable figure.
Land-lubber that he was, his outfit of sea-clothing had long since been
confiscated; and he was now fain to go about in whatever he could pick
up. His upper garment—an unsailor-like article of dress which he
persisted in wearing, though torn from his back twenty times in the
day—was an old “claw-hammer jacket,” or swallow-tail coat, formerly
belonging to Captain Guy, and which had formed one of his perquisites
when steward.
By the side of Wilson was the mate, bareheaded, his gray locks lying in
rings upon his bronzed brow, and his keen eye scanning the crowd as if
he knew their every thought. His frock hung loosely, exposing his round
throat, mossy chest, and short and nervous arm embossed with pugilistic
bruises, and quaint with many a device in India ink.
In the midst of a portentous silence, the consul unrolled his papers,
evidently intending to produce an effect by the exceeding bigness of
his looks.
“Mr. Jermin, call off their names;” and he handed him a list of the
ship’s company.
All answered but the deserters and the two mariners at the bottom of
the sea.
It was now supposed that the Round Robin would be produced, and
something said about it. But not so. Among the consul’s papers that
unique document was thought to be perceived; but, if there, it was too
much despised to be made a subject of comment. Some present, very
justly regarding it as an uncommon literary production, had been
anticipating all sorts of miracles therefrom; and were, therefore, much
touched at this neglect.
“Well, men,” began Wilson again after a short pause, “although you all
look hearty enough, I’m told there are some sick among you. Now then,
Mr. Jermin, call off the names on that sick-list of yours, and let them
go over to the other side of the deck—I should like to see who they
are.”
“So, then,” said he, after we had all passed over, “you are the sick
fellows, are you? Very good: I shall have you seen to. You will go down
into the cabin one by one, to Doctor Johnson, who will report your
respective cases to me. Such as he pronounces in a dying state I shall
have sent ashore; the rest will be provided with everything needful,
and remain aboard.”
At this announcement, we gazed strangely at each other, anxious to see
who it was that looked like dying, and pretty nearly deciding to stay
aboard and get well, rather than go ashore and be buried. There were
some, nevertheless, who saw very plainly what Wilson was at, and they
acted accordingly. For my own part, I resolved to assume as dying an
expression as possible; hoping that, on the strength of it, I might be
sent ashore, and so get rid of the ship without any further trouble.
With this intention, I determined to take no part in anything that
might happen until my case was decided upon. As for the doctor, he had
all along pretended to be more or less unwell; and by a significant
look now given me, it was plain that he was becoming decidedly worse.
The invalids disposed of for the present, and one of them having gone
below to be examined, the consul turned round to the rest, and
addressed them as follows:—
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