¡®Killick, Killick there: what¡¯s amiss?¡¯

¡®Which it¡¯s your scraper, sir, your number one scraper. The wombat¡¯s got at it.¡¯

¡®Then take it away from him, for God¡¯s sake.¡¯

¡®I duresn¡¯t, sir,¡¯ said Killick. ¡®For fear of tearing the lace.¡¯

¡®Now, sir,¡¯ cried the Captain, striding into the great cabin, a tall, imposing figure. ¡®Now, sir,¡¯ ¨C addressing the wombat, one of the numerous body of marsupials brought into the ship by her surgeon, a natural philosopher ¨C ¡®give it up directly, d¡¯ye hear me, there?¡¯

The wombat stared him straight in the eye, drew a length of gold lace from its mouth, and then deliberately sucked it in again.

¡®Pass the word for Dr Maturin,¡¯ said the Captain, looking angrily at the wombat: and a moment later, ¡®Come now, Stephen, this is coming it pretty high: your brute is eating my hat.¡¯

¡®So he is, too,¡¯ said Dr Maturin. ¡®But do not be so perturbed, Jack; it will do him no harm, at all. His digestive processes ¡ª ¡¯

At this point the wombat dropped the hat, shuffled rapidly across the deck and swarmed up into Dr Maturin¡¯s arms, peering at close range into his face with a look of deep affection.