And then he busied himself about conning his new bearings. It was
a four-walled jail--one-doored, one-windowed, iron-barred--ill-smelling,
verminous, too hot for words and too suggestive of the opposite of
home, sweet home to call forth humor, even from a seaman.
"They'll come an' rescue us," moaned Byng. "They'll quarantine the
pair of us for being lousy, and they'll turn the perishing salt-water
hose on us. We're due for the brig for Gawd knows 'ow long; our
reppitation's gone; we've been spat on by a--by a Arab, and we 'aven't
hit 'im back; an' we've lost the pup. We've gone an' lost the pup!
Gawd! There ain't no more good in nothin'!"
Which shows no more than that Joe Byng in his sorrow overlooked a
circumstance or two. For instance, there were rings in the floor
that Crothers eyed with keen curiosity. They were anchored in the
solid blocks of stone.
"It's better than it might be, mate!" he argued optimistically. "They
might 'ave gone and chained us up to those!"
V.
Arabia has some peculiarities, not all of them discreditable, which
she does not share with any other country.
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