George Manville Fenn

The Powder Monkey George Manville Fenn

"No, sir," said the little boy, shrinking; for the man now took a step forward and clapped a big, brown, tarry hand upon his shoulder. "Then why can't yer understand yer own lingo?" "I do, sir," said the boy, with a sound like a sob. "Then why did you say you didn't, and make me think you was a Frenchy?" "I didn't know what you meant, sir, by 'hilli' something, and 'what cheer.'" "Why, yer young savage!" cried the man. "Arn't yer never been to school?" "Yes, sir, and had a tutor." "A tutor, eh? What may that be? But lookye here, my lad; I arn't a sir-on'y a marrineer." "A what, sir?" said the boy, staring. "Marrineer-seaman. Fore the mast man, ship now lying off the port o' Torquay. Whatcher doing there?" "Cry-ying, sir," came for answer, with a piteous sob.