"And, Mr Chucks, recollect this afternoon that you _bleed_ all the
_buoys_."
Bleed the boys, thought I, what can that be for? at all events, the
surgeon appears to be the proper person to perform that operation.
This last incomprehensible remark drove me off the deck, and I retreated
to the cock-pit, where I found Mrs Trotter. "Oh, my dear!" said she, "I
am glad you are come, as I wish to put your clothes in order. Have you a
list of them--where is your key?" I replied that I had not a list, and I
handed her the key, although I did not forget the caution of the
midshipman; yet I considered that there could be no harm in her looking
over my clothes when I was present. She unlocked my chest, and pulled
everything out, and then commenced telling me what were likely to be
useful and what were not.
"Now these worsted stockings," she said, "will be very comfortable in
cold weather, and in the summer time these brown cotton socks will be
delightfully cool, and you have enough of each to last you till you
outgrow them; but as for these fine cotton stockings, they are of no
use--only catch the dirt when the decks are swept, and always look
untidy. I wonder how they could be so foolish as to send them; nobody
wears them on board ship nowadays. They are only fit for women--I wonder
if they would fit me."
She turned her chair away, and put on one of my stockings, laughing the
whole of the time. Then she turned round to me and showed me how nicely
they fitted her.
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