Steward.-Oh! Lord! I was a penny-postman, Sir, in London; and a barber's boy at Jamaica. Mr. Adams.-I guessed so. I thought the fellow had been running footman to a barber. First-mate. I reckoned he had been a school master. Author of this Volume.-I believe the steward disguises the truth. I am of opinion he has been a schoolmaster, but that he is ashamed to own it. First-mate.--Were you ever a schoolmaster, steward? Are you learned in geography? Who discovered America? Steward.-Commodore Anson, Sir. First-mate.-You lie! It was one of my countrymen, Madoc ap Owen Gwyneth; I can give you chapter and verse for it. Madoc wyf mwydic ei wedd Mr. Adams.--What the devil language is that? Is it double Dutch coiled against the sun? First-mate.It is Welch. It is what the fullbreasted girls talk in the mountains. If the frigate don't blow us out of the water, and this fair wind holds, I hope next month to be bowsing - D d 3 some of their jibs up. If they knew I was coming, they would give the Olive a tow. Captain.-Haul down the main-top-mast studding sail! Come aft here to the down-haul. Lower away the haliards! Start the tack there! a hand. In a few minutes another shot was fired from the frigate. It went over the mast-heads of the good ship Olive. But no matter for that. The steward on hearing it put his head into the binnacle. Man at the helm.-I can't see the compass, Sir. The steward has got his head into the binnacle. First-mate.-You steward! take your cocoanut out of the binnacle. The frigate had now got alongside of us. Such a man of war! I wish I had her for a frontispiece to this volume. I should out-do all the Welsh Tourists with their thousand and one engravings of castles and churches, however venerable for their antiquity. Captain. Hoist the colours! Mr. Adams.-(hoisting the colours) Call the steward away. He'll get jammed like Jackson between the fly of the ensign and the mizen-shrouds. Captain.-(to the man at the helm) Mind your port helm ! Man at the helm.-Port! Port! Captain of the Frigate.-(hailing) Hoa! the ship ahoy! Master of the Olive.-Holloa! Captain of the Frigate. From whence came you? Master of the Olive.-From Baltimore! Captain of the Frigate. Where are you bound? Master of the Ole.-To Cowes in the Isle of Wight. From whence came YOU. Captain of the Frigate.-From Whitehall! Master of the Olive.-Ah! I can tell you are British man of war; though you have neither a jack, an ensign, or a pendant flying. Captain of the Frigate.-Back your main-topsail. I'll toss my boat out and send her on board of you. The yard and stay-tackles on board the frigate were now hooked on to the cutter; the falls were manned, and the boatswain, together with his three mates began to tune the shrill whistle that doth order give to sounds confused. The sailors were making a run of the tackle-falls, and the first Lieutenant, exclaiming, "Silence there! 66 Step out! Step out! Walk away with him!" In one minute the cutter was suspended in the air between the fore and main yards. And now were heard the following orders, which had the magic to place the boat in the water, alongside of the frigate. High enough with the mainstay! A turn there hoa! Hoist away the & σε main-yard! 66 Avast there! Lower away the main-stay! Lower away the yards! Let The Man of War's boat being manned, she came alongside of the good ship Olive. The officer of her was a Midshipman; he wore a weekly account in his collar. He was a dasher. He had on a gold-laced hat; a coat of quite an a la mode cut, and an ivory hilted hanger suspended to his side. He skipped up the Olive's gangway, and desired the Captain to muster his ship's company. Midshipman of the Frigate.-Send Peter Potpan aft here.-Peter Potpan! What part of the play are you acting on board here? Potpan. I am steward of the ship, Sir. Officer.--What countryman are you Peter Potpan? Potpar. I am an American, Sir. Officer-Peter Potpan, don't you tell a lie ever again, for you do it with a very do it with a very bad grace. Potpan.-Indeed, Sir, I am an American. Officer. Are you a republican or a federalist, Peter Potpan? Potpan. I am a republican, Sir. Officer.-Did you vote for Adams or Jefferson? Potpan.-I voted for Adams, Sir. Officer. A republican and vote for Adams! Don't tell that in a stable of horses, Peter Potpan, or they will certainly kick your brains out. Potpan.-Indeed, Sir, I am an American born. Officer. What part of America were you born in Peter Potpan? Potpan.-I was born, Sir, in Kentucky. Officer.-In Kentucky! What trees grow chiefly in Kentucky? Potpan. I never saw any trees, Sir, in Kentucky, I always lived in a city. Officer.-A city in Kentucky! Next comes a green-bay horse to be shaved.-Cutter there! Perkins! Matthews! Jump up here, and lend Peter Potpan a hand to get his chest and hammock into the boat. |