I observed that they all had
numbers on their jackets, and either one or two bright iron rings on
their legs. I could not help inquiring, although I was in such a hurry,
why the rings were worn. One of them replied that they were orders of
merit, given to them for their good behaviour.
I was proceeding on very disconsolately, when, as I turned a corner, to
my great delight, I met my two men, who touched their hats and said that
they had been looking for me. I did not believe that they told the
truth, but I was so glad to recover them that I did not scold, but went
with them down to the boat, which had been waiting some time for us.
O'Brien, the master's mate, called me a young sculping,[1] a word I
never heard before. When we arrived on board, the first lieutenant asked
O'Brien why he had remained so long. He answered that two of the men had
left the boat, but that I had found them. The first lieutenant appeared
to be pleased with me, observing, as he had said before, that I was no
fool, and I went down below, overjoyed at my good fortune, and very much
obliged to O'Brien for not telling the whole truth. After I had taken
off my dirk and cocked hat, I felt for my pocket-handkerchief, and found
that it was not in my pocket, having in all probability been taken out
by the men in grey jackets, whom, in conversation with my messmates, I
discovered to be convicts condemned to hard labour for stealing and
picking pockets.
A day or two afterwards, we had a new messmate of the name of M'Foy.
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