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found a Greenlandman, with royal yards crossed, in her maw, and the captain and mate in the cabin quarrelling about the reckoning.
“ What do you think of that, Mr Bang—as well they might be, Mr Bang—as well they might be ?" Bang said nothing, but at the moment—whether the said Aaron lent wings to the bird or no I cannot tell—a goose, swimming in apple sauce, which he was, with a most stern countenance, endeavouring to carve, fetched away right over the gunwale of the dish ; and taking a whole boat of melted butter with it, splashed across the tahle during a tremendous roll, that made every thing creak and groan again, right into the small master's lap who was his visd-vis. I could hear Aaron grumble out something about—« Strange affinity-birds of a feather.” But his time was up, his minutes were numbered, and like a shot he bolted from the table, skulling or rather clawing away towards the door, by the backs of the chairs, like a green parrot, until he reached the marine at the bottom of the ladder, at the door of the captain's cabin, round whose neck he immediately fetterlocked his fins.
He had only time to exclaim to his new ally, “ My dear fellow, get me some brandy and water, for the love of mercy"-when he blew up, with an explosion like the bursting of a steam-boiler-" Oh dear, oh dear,” we could hear him murmuring in the lulls of his agonythen another loud report—" there goes my yesterday's supper-hot grog and toasted-cheese”—another roar, as if the spirit was leaving its earthly tabernacle—" dinner -claret- Madeira-all cruel bad in a second editioncheese, teal, and ringtail pigeon-black crabs—calapi and turtle-soup”—as bis fleshly indulgences of the previous day rose up in judgment against him, like a man's evil deeds on his death-bed. At length the various strata
of his interior were entirely excavated- _66 Ah!--I have got to my breakfast—to the simple tea and toast at last. -Brandy and water, my dear Transom, brandy and water, my darling, hot, without sugar”—and “ Brandy and water" died in echoes in the distance as he was stowed away into his cot in the captain's cabin. It seems that it had been all arranged between him and Transom, that he was to set off for St Thomas in the East, the morning on which we sailed, and to get a shove out in the pilot-boat schooner, from Morant Bay, to join us for the cruise; and accordingly he had come on board the night previous when I was below, and being somewhat qualmish he had wisely kept his cot; the fun of the thing depending, as it seemed, on all hands carefully keeping it from me that he was on board.
I apprehend most people indulge in the fancy that they have Consciences such as they are. I myself noweven I, Thomas Cringle, Esquire, amongst sundry vain imaginings, conceive that I have a Conscience—somewhat of the caoutchouc order I will confess-stretching a little upon occasion, when the gale of my passions blows high-nevertheless a highly respectable Conscience, as things goma stalwart unchancy customer, who will not be gainsaid or contradicted; but he may be disobeyed, although never with impunity. It is all true that a young, well-fledged gentlewoman, for she is furnished with a most swift pair of wings, called Prosperity, sometimes gets the better of Master Conscience, and smothers the Grim Feature for a time, under the bed of eider down, whereon you and her ladyship are reposing. But she is a sad jilt in many instances, this same Prosperity ; for some fine morning, with the sun glancing in through the crevices of the window-shutters, just at the nick when, after turning yourself, and rubbing your eyes, you cou
rageously thrust forth one leg, with a determination to don your gramashes without more delay—“ Tom," says she “ Tom Cringle, I have got tired of you, Thomas; besides, I hear my next door neighbour, Madame Adversity, tirling at the door pin ; so give me my down-bed, Tom, and I'm off.” With that she bangs open the window, and before I recover from my surprise, launches forth, with a loud whir, mattrass and all, leaving me, Pilgarlic, lying on the paillasse. Well, her nest is scarcely cold, when in comes me Mistress Adversity, a wee outspoken-sour-crabbit-gizzened anatomy of an old woman—" You ne'erdoweel, Tam,” quoth she, “is it no enough that you consort with that scarlet limmer, who has just yescaped thorough the winday, but ye maun smoor my first-born, puir Conscience, atween ye? Whare hae
ye stowed him, man-tell me that?” And the ancient damosel gives me a shrewd clip on the skull with the poker. “ That's right, mother," quoth Conscience, from beneath the straw mattrass-"Give it to him—he'll no hear memanother devel, mother.” And I found that my own weight, deserted as I was by that-abem-Prosperity, was no longer sufficient to keep him down. So up he rose, with a loud pech; and while the old woman keelbauled me with a poker on one side, he yerked at me on the other, until at length he gave me a regular cross-buttock, and then between them they diddled me outright. When I was fairly foored, “ Now, my man,” said Adversity, “ I bear no spite; if you will but listen to my boy there, we shall be good friends still. He is never unreasonable. He has no objections to your consorting even with Madame Prosperity, in a decent way; but he will not consent to your letting her get the better of you, nor to your doting on her, even to the giving her a share of your bed, when she should never be allowed to get farther than the servants' hall, for she should be kept in subjection, or she'll ruin you for ever, Thomas.-Conscience is a rough lad, I grant you, and I am keen and snell also; but never mind, take his advice, and you'll be some credit to your freens yet, ye scoonrel.” I did so, and the old lady's visits became shorter and shorter, and more and more distant, until at length they ceased altogether; and once more Prosperity, like a dove with its heaven-borrowed hues all glowing in the morning sun, pitched one morning on my window-sill. It was in June. “ Tom, I am come back again.” I glowered at her with all
my bir. She made a step or two towards me, and the lesson of Adversity was fast evaporating into thin air, when, lo! the sleeping lion himself awoke.“ Thomas," said Conscience, in a voice that made my flesh creep, “not into your bed, neither into your bosom, Thomas. Be civil to the young woman, but remember what your best friend Adversity told you, and never let her be more than your
handmaiden again ; free to come, free to go, but never more to be your mistress.” I screw myself about, and twist, and turn in great perplexity-Hard enough all this, and I am half-inclined to try to throttle Conscience outright.
But to make a long story short-I was resolute“Step into the parlour, my dearest—I hope we shall never part any more; but you must not get the upper hand, you know. So step into the other room, and whenever I get my inexpressibles on, I will come to you there."
But this Conscience, about which I am now havering, seldom acts the monitor in this way, unless against respectable crimes, such as murder, debauching your friend's wife, or stealing. But the chield I have to do with for the present, and who has led to this rigmarole, is a sort of deputy Conscience, a looker-out after small affairs peccadilloes. The grewsome carle, Conscience Senior, you can grapple with, for he only steps forth on great occasions, when he says sternly—and the mischief is, that what he says, we know to be true-says he, “ Thomas Cringle”-he never calls me Tom, or Mister, or Lieutenant—« Thomas Cringle,” says he, “ if you do that thing, you shall be damned.” “Lud-a mercy,” quoth I, Thomas, “I will perpend, Master Conscience”-and I set myself to eschew the evil deed, with all my might. But Conscience the Younger-whom I will take leave to call by Quashie's appellative hereafter, Conshy—is a funny little fellow, and another guess sort of a chap altogether. An instance_“I say, Tom, my boy-Tom Cringlewhy the deuce now”_he won't say “the Devil” for the world—“Why the deuce, Tom, don't you confine yourself to a pint of wine at dinner, eh?” quoth Conshy. “Why will
you not give up your toddy after it? You are ruining your interior, Thornas, my fine fellow—the gout is on the look out for you—your legs are spindling, and your paunch is increasing. Read Hamlet's speech to Polonius, Tom, and if you don't find all the marks of premature old age creeping on you, then am I, Conshy, a Dutchman, that's all.” Now Conshy always lectures you in the watches of the night ; I generally think his advice is good at breakfast time, and during the forenoon, egad, I think it excellent and most reasonable, and I determine to stick by it—and if Conshy and I dine alone, I do adhere to his maxims most rigidly ; but if any
old allies should topple in to dinner, Conshy, who is a solitary mechanic, bolts instanter. Still I remember him for a time-we sit down—the dinner is good. “I say, Jack, a glass of wine-Peter what shall we have ?” and until the pint a-piece is discussed, all is right between Conshy and I.