Upon this Clara said to
Herbert, "Papa wants me, darling!" and ran away.
"There is an unconscionable old shark for you!" said Herbert. "What
do you suppose he wants now, Handel?"
"I don't know," said I. "Something to drink?"
"That's it!" cried Herbert, as if I had made a guess of
extraordinary merit. "He keeps his grog ready mixed in a little tub
on the table. Wait a moment, and you'll hear Clara lift him up to
take some. There he goes!" Another roar, with a prolonged shake
at the end. "Now," said Herbert, as it was succeeded by silence,
"he's drinking. Now," said Herbert, as the growl resounded in the
beam once more, "he's down again on his back!"
Clara returned soon afterwards, and Herbert accompanied me
up stairs to see our charge. As we passed Mr. Barley's door, he was
heard hoarsely muttering within, in a strain that rose and fell
like wind, the following Refrain, in which I substitute good wishes
for something quite the reverse:--
"Ahoy! Bless your eyes, here's old Bill Barley. Here's old Bill
Barley, bless your eyes. Here's old Bill Barley on the flat of his
back, by the Lord. Lying on the flat of his back like a drifting
old dead flounder, here's your old Bill Barley, bless your eyes.
Ahoy! Bless you."
In this strain of consolation, Herbert informed me the invisible
Barley would commune with himself by the day and night together;
Often, while it was light, having, at the same time, one eye at a
telescope which was fitted on his bed for the convenience of
sweeping the river.
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