But he looked like anything but a man in charge of a ship. He was short.
In outward appearance, moreover, he was like a wax doll. He had
waxen-white cheeks with daubs of pink as if they had been put there from
a rouge pot. His hair was nicely scented, oiled, and patted down. His
small hands were white and perfectly manicured.
Nippers began to snicker openly at him. But the sharp variety and
incisiveness of the oaths he vented at us, soon disabused us of any
opinion we might have held that he was sissified....
"What's wrong with _you_, you young ---- ---- ---- ---- you?" began the
captain. The snicker died slowly from Nipper's lips, and in his face
dawned an infinite, surprised respect....
Then, after he had subdued us:
"So you're stowaways, eh?... and you think you're going to be given a
free ride to Brisbane and let go ashore, scot free?... not much! You'll
either go to jail there or sign up here, as cattlemen for the trip to
China--even though I can see that your mouths are still wet from your
mothers' tits!" And he ended with a blasphemous flourish.
Nippers and I looked at each other in astonishment. Of course we wanted
to sign on as cattlemen. No doubt some of the men hired at Sydney had
failed to show up at the wharf.
The ship's book was pushed before us.
"Sign here!" I signed "John Gregory" with satisfaction. Nippers signed
after, laboriously.
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