"Now," said the mate, spreading the writing materials upon the hen-coop, "do you mean to sign that paper or"—and he cast his eye towards the rope.
"Well," stammered out Mr. Robberson, "if I must, I must;" and he set himself to write with the same elaborate attention to attitude as Mr. Samuel Weller, Junior, displayed when he edited his ever memorable "Wallentine to Mary Housemaid at Mr. Nupkins Mayor."
Mr. Moriarty received the paper folded from Mr. Robberson, and as he placed it in his pocket, said, "You colonial aristocrats derive great benefit from your voyages to civilized countries: you have been taught a lesson which you will never forget.—Good day, Sir," and he turned upon his heel.
Mr. Robberson hailed the first passing boat, in which, with his wife, he left the ship. After he had got well out of harm's way, he shouted to Mr. Moriarty, who was leaning over the bulwark, and placing himself in the same attitude in which the savages are described by Defoe as saluting Robinson Crusoe, he roared, at the top of his voice, "Let me catch you ashore, you tyrant—you fellow—you—you—you—"
"Pooh!—pooh!—pooh:" said the mate, as he held the written apology aloft.
"Yes! I see, you scoundrel;" said the magistrate, just see what you have got, although you did put me in fear for my life, but I'll trounce you for it.—See what it's worth, you hound;"—and a sneering laugh followed.
The mate withdrew into his cabin, and opening the paper he had drawn up, found, instead of the magistrate's signature thereto, certain characters, which, after some difficulty, he deciphered, and burst into a loud laugh—"The rascal has done me," he said, as he scribbled at the foot of the paper this note "Specimen of writing by a colonial aristocrat:"—"but I'll
