QUILP 53 



The doctor came to the island to vaccinate us all; but 

 meeting with strong opposition, he went away without 

 a single dupe to practise on, swearing that we should 

 stay there until we changed our minds. 



There was an old, humpbacked, cross-grained scoun- 

 drel we nicknamed Quilp, who lived a bachelor life in 

 a house near the wharf, and was employed by the 

 government to keep the houses in repair, and fumigate 

 the mails. 



Every morning' before sun-up, when he was sober 

 enough, he would make his appearance with a pail of 

 diluted carbolic acid, and, armed with a gigantic 

 syringe, would proceed to deluge our rooms with the 

 strong-smelling liquid. 



We stood this three or four mornings, and at last the 

 fellows downstairs concluded to stop his early morning 

 calls. Fixing a pail of water over the door, they pulled 

 it down on him as he entered. A tremendous hubbub 

 arose, and Barelli and I hurried downstairs to see 

 the sport. His ugly face flushed with rage, Quilp stood 

 dripping with water, plying his squirt-gun with telling 

 effect among the shirt-tail brigade, who showered him 

 with boots, slippers, sea-animals, and whatever else they 

 could lay hands on. A well-directed cake of soap 

 silenced Quilp, who hurried out, declaring he would 

 have every one of us " jugged " for that morning's work. 

 We were not again troubled by him. 



We had many a laugh at an Irishman, who every 



