D'Artagnan, the King Maker — page 212: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A Waive. 199 few drops trickled out and stuck to the wood. ‘“Con- fusion! have you finished an anker of ten gallons to your own palate ?” “I had excellent assistants! But I am ignorant of the worth of the cook of the Petrel if she has not other re- sources !” Indeed, foreseeing that a demand would arise with the coming of the Firench colossus, Quaqua had blown a whistle, suspended by one of her coils of shells. Two or three of the loitering fishermen understood, and, without waiting to hear ther clap ‘her hands twice to signify with how many barrels they should renew her stock, dived into one of those caves under a shop window, let off to cobblers and tailor renovators. They backed out, dragging the one, a cask, and the other a canvas bag con- taining, as turned out afterwards, bread in long loaves and sausages of large dimensions, so old as to be blued like ancient cheese. In a short time the little table held a plain but sub- stantial course of food, over the demolition of which by the valiant Frenchman—for D’Artagnan ate and drank for company’s sake—there would have been spectators ten deep but that they were more seriously occupied. As it was, the two chatted and feasted without regards from the seekers of tranquility where all was perturba- tion. “T hope you have taken the edge off,’ remarked the Musketeer Captain, delighted as ever at the robust appe- tite, for the reason that he had found the quick eater a quick worker, “lean back against the wall, avoiding that carving about a sinner, who, it appears, was buried in the very masonry to cheat Old Nick, who would have had his soul were it either in or out of the church—and, narrate! But have you grown a ‘hump, or is it a haver- sack on your ‘back, like Samson carrying off the gates? Have you been plundering along the road, you veteran marauder? That was forbid! Wait till we carry the war into Spain!” “You are wrong,” returned his friend, blushing not altogether from his drafts; “it is a suit of new clothes!” “With which to be present at the coronation?’ and the GEomichooksneo im