Therefore I must resist this man."
In obedience to this valid conclusion he hit Sergeant Klomp in the
stomach as he advanced, caught the cane out of his hand and
belaboured him the entire length of the gun-deck. It was impossible
to do this without discommoding the legs of the company and annoying
them beyond measure. And consequently, at the end of ten minutes,
Tristram found himself in irons in the lazarette, condemned to pass
the night with two drunken men, whose snores were almost comforting
in the pitchy darkness; for, as he told himself, human propinquity,
if not exactly sympathy, is the first step towards it. He had been
listening to this snoring for four hours, when a hatchway above him
was lifted, and a lantern shone down into the lazarette. It was
carried by a corporal, who came cautiously down the ladder, lighting
the footsteps of an officer who followed and held a handkerchief to
his nose, for the smell of the bilge was overpowering.
"Pah!" exclaimed this officer, as he arrived at the ladder's foot,
and peered around. "Set the light down on the floor and leave us.
What a hole!"
He waited whilst the corporal re-ascended the ladder and disappeared;
then, picking up the lantern, held it aloft and let its rays shine
full on Tristram's face.
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