On The First Expedition, The Only One To Be Got At Lay Among Others,
Upon Its Bilge With The Bung-Hole Well Over.
With a bit of iron hoop,
suitably bent, and a good deal of prying and punching, the bung was
forced in; and then the cooper's neck-handkerchief, attached to the
end of the hoop, was drawn in and out - the absorbed liquor being
deliberately squeezed into a small bucket.
Bungs was a man after a barkeeper's own heart. Drinking steadily,
until just manageably tipsy, he contrived to continue so; getting
neither more nor less inebriated, but, to use his own phrase,
remaining "just about right." When in this interesting state, he had
a free lurch in his gait, a queer way of hitching up his waistbands,
looked unnecessarily steady at you when speaking, and for the rest,
was in very tolerable spirits. At these times, moreover, he was
exceedingly patriotic; and in a most amusing way, frequently showed
his patriotism whenever he happened to encounter Dunk, a
good-natured, square-faced Dane, aboard.
It must be known here, by the bye, that the cooper had a true sailor
admiration for Lord Nelson. But he entertained a very erroneous idea
of the personal appearance of the hero. Not content with depriving
him of an eye and an arm, he stoutly maintained that he had also lost
a leg in one of his battles. Under this impression, he sometimes
hopped up to Dunk with one leg curiously locked behind him into his
right arm, at the same time closing an eye.
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