Smallbones picked up the herring, pulled up his trousers to examine the
bite, poured down an anathema upon the dog, which was, "May you be
starved, as I am, you beast!" and then turned round to go aft, when he
struck against the spare form of Mr Vanslyperken, who, with his hands in
his pocket, and his trumpet under his arm, looked unutterably savage.

"How dare you beat _my_ dog, you villain?" said the lieutenant at last,
choking with passion.

"He's a-bitten my leg through and through, sir," replied Smallbones,
with a face of alarm.

"Well, sir, why have you such thin legs, then?"

"'Cause I gets nothing to fill 'em up with."

"Have you not a herring there, you herring-gutted scoundrel? which, in
defiance of all the rules of the service, you have brought on his
Majesty's quarter-deck, you greedy rascal, and for which I intend--"

"It ar'n't my herring, sir, it be yours--for your breakfast--the only
one that is left out of the half-dozen."

This last remark appeared somewhat to pacify Mr Vanslyperken.

"Go down below, sir," said he, after a pause, "and let me know when my
breakfast is ready."

Smallbones obeyed immediately, too glad to escape so easily.