"Silence, you mutinous rascal, or I'll put you in irons."

"I wish you would--irons don't bite, if they hold fast. I'll run away--I
don't mind being hung--that I don't--starved to death, bitten to death
in this here way--"

"Silence, sir. It's over-feeding that makes you saucy."

"The Lord forgive you'" cried Smallbones, with surprise; "I've not had a
full meal"

"A full meal, you rascal! there's no filling a thing like you--hollow
from top to bottom, like a bamboo."

"And what I does get," continued Smallbones, with energy, "I pays dear
for; that ere dog flies at me, if I takes a bit o' biscuit. I never has
a bite without getting a bite, and it's all my own allowance."

"A proof of his fidelity, and an example to you, you wretch," replied
the lieutenant, fondly patting the dog on the head.

"Well, I wish you'd discharge me--or hang me, I don't care which. You
eats so hearty, and the dog eats so hearty, that I gets nothing. We are
only victualled for two."

"You insolent fellow! recollect the thief's cat."

"It's very hard," continued Smallbones, unmindful of the threat, "that
that ere beast is to eat my allowance, and be allowed to half eat