human
Now, my man, continues the Assessor, with pleasant severity,
gpt
--the man is understood to assent to this proposition in a despairing sort of way--
human
The slightest indication of a cunning smile momentarily illumines the Job Trotter-like countenance of the prisoner.
gpt
Well, we don't do business on those terms. You give the steward three guineas, and we'll take you to Plymouth. But if you can't pay--off you go. Here, steward, you're wanted. And that officer coming up, the miserable individual with the valuable umbrella (about which no questions have been asked) is given into his charge by my stout acquaintance, who, as we enter the smoking-room, says to me in an undertone,
human
He's a regular 'do.' We've hailed a boat, and he'll be put off in two two's. He wanted to get his passage free. He's a 'stowaway,' that's what _he_ is.
gpt
I imagined him as a poor, ill-used kind of _Smike_ or _Oliver Twist_, hiding himself away among the casks in the lowest hold of the vessel, only issuing forth in the dead of night with the rats and cockroaches, who, suddenly coming to the upper deck in a terrific storm, steers the ship into a peaceful haven, saves the captain from a watery grave, and who, finally, either marries the low high admiral's daughter, or (which is more affecting) the poor stowaway mutters something about
human
Home, and, gratefully smiling, as he looks up at the now utterly overcome captain, dies, in the lime-light, to slow music, with his head reposing on that deeply affected officer's best epaulette. In fact, a sort of nautical
gpt
Poor _Jo_. But this idea is utterly knocked over by the appearance of the real genuine stowaway, who has such a sneaky, crawly, strangling-you-asleep appearance, that I own to a feeling of intense gratification on seeing two men rowing a small boat up alongside (for which we slack off a bit), while at the same moment the discomfited sneak with the expensive, and still mysterious, umbrella, who has descended the lowered gangway, stands on the shaky ledge below as if he were about to take a plunge--which, indeed, he does; not, fortunately for him, into the tidal river, but head foremost into the dingy, where for a second or two he lies sprawling. Regaining his legs, he steadies himself, and actually has the impudence to wave his hat to us by way of bidding us farewell, and hoping we'll have a good passage!
human
And, I ask of a sharp-looking little officer, who is superintending the hauling up of the ladder,
gpt
human
Heaven knows!