In the
confusion which ensued he fell foul of the tea-kettle, and, dropping his
prey, bit the skipper frantically, until driven off by his mistress.
"Naughty boy!" said she, giving him a few slight cuffs. "Has he hurt
you? I must get a bandage for you."
"A little," said Codd, looking at his hand, which was bleeding
profusely. "There's a little linen in the locker down below, if you
wouldn't mind tearing it up for me."
Mrs. Bunker, giving the dog a final slap, went below, and the two men
looked at each other and then at the dog, which was standing at the
stern, barking insultingly at a passing steamer.
"It's about time she came over," said the mate, throwing a glance at the
sail, then at the skipper, then at the dog.
"So it is," said the skipper, through his set teeth.
As he spoke he pushed the long tiller hastily from port to starboard,
and the dog finished his bark in the water; the huge sail reeled for a
moment, then swung violently over to the other side, and the barge was
on a fresh tack, with the dog twenty yards astern. He was wise in his
generation, and after one look at the barge, made for the distant shore.
"Murderers!" screamed a voice; "murderers! you've killed my dog."
"It was an accident; I didn't see him," stammered the skipper.
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