15. CHAPTER XV.
Bound into port, Chips and Bungs increased their devotion
to the bottle; and, to the unspeakable envy of the rest, these
jolly companions—or “the Partners,” as the men called them—
rolled about deck, day after day, in the merriest mood imaginable.
But jolly as they were in the main, two more discreet tipplers
it would be hard to find. No one ever saw them take any
thing, except when the regular allowance was served out by
the steward; and to make them quite sober and sensible, you
had only to ask them how they contrived to keep otherwise.
Sometime after, however, their secret leaked out.
The casks of Pisco were kept down the after-hatchway,
which, for this reason, was secured with bar and padlock. The
cooper, nevertheless, from time to time, effected a burglarious
entry, by descending into the fore-hold; and then, at the risk
of being jammed to death, crawling along over a thousand obstructions,
to where the casks were stowed.
On the first expedition, the only one to be got at lay among
others, upon its bilge, with the bung-hole well over. With a
bit of iron hoop, suitably bent, and a good deal of prying and
punching, the bung was forced in; and then the cooper's neck-handkerchief,
attached to the end of the hoop, was drawn in
and out—the absorbed liquor being deliberately squeezed into
a small bucket.
Bungs was a man after a bar-keeper's own heart. Drinking
steadily, until just manageably tipsy, he contrived to continue
so; getting neither more nor less inebriated, but, to use his own
phrase, remaining “just about right.” When in this interesting
state, he had a free lurch in his gait, a queer way of hitching
up his waistbands, looked unnecessarily steady at you when
speaking, and for the rest, was in very tolerable spirits. At
these times, moreover, he was exceedingly patriotic; and in a
most amusing way, frequently showed his patriotism whenever
he happened to encounter Dunk, a good-natured, square-faced
Dane, aboard.
It must be known here, by the bye, that the cooper had a
true sailor admiration for Lord Nelson. But he entertained
a very erroneous idea of the personal appearance of the hero.
Not content with depriving him of an eye, and an arm, he
stoutly maintained that he had also lost a leg in one of his
battles. Under this impression, he sometimes hopped up to
Dunk, with one leg curiously locked behind him into his right
arm, at the same time closing an eye.
In this attitude he would call upon him to look up, and behold
the man who gave his countrymen such a thrashing at Copenhagen.
“Look you, Dunk,” says he, staggering about, and
winking hard with one eye, to keep the other shut, “Look
you; one man—hang me, half a man—with one leg, one arm,
one eye—hang me, with only a piece of a carcass, flogged your
whole shabby nation. Do you deny it, you lubber?”
The Dane was a mule of a man, and understanding but little
English, seldom made any thing of a reply; so the cooper generally
dropped his leg, and marched off, with the air of a man
who despised saying any thing further.
