JA.XI 
 
 OLD -MAN-OF-WAR'S-MAN'S YARN. 
 
 Dedicated (by kind 
 
 ;HARLES DICKENS, ESQ., 
 
 By Richard Heathcote Gooch. 
 
 HIS DRAGS THE DUKE OF ARGYLL, 'K. 1 
 
AN 
 
 Old Man~oF~Wsp's~Man J s Yarn, 
 
 DEDICATED (BY KIND PERMISSION) TO 
 
 CHARLES DICKENS, ESQ., 
 
 BY RICHARD HEATHCOTE GOOCH. 
 
 patron : 
 His Grace the DUKE OF ARGYLL, K. T. 
 
 AN ACTUAL INCIDENT (NEVER BEFORE NARRATED) OF 
 THE EXPEDITION OF THE LATE 
 
 SIR JOHN FRANKLIN. 
 
 of 
 
 ENTERED AT STATIONERY HALL. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED BY CASSELL, FETTER, AND GALPIN, 
 LUDGATE HILL, E.G. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 IT has occurred to me that my readers presuming 
 I have any would, to a certain extent, feel in- 
 terested in the facts of this story : they may be 
 informed in a few words. I was returning one 
 afternoon, some fifteen years ago, from bathing, at 
 a place called Dumpton, near Ramsgate, when, 
 as I approached the East Cliff, I fell in with an 
 old man sitting by the wayside offering pipe-lights 
 for sale. He gave me " Good-day " as I came up, 
 and we entered into conversation. He told me (I 
 afterwards ascertained every particular was true) 
 that he was nearly ninety years of age, that he 
 had been fifty years afloat, that he had two sons 
 in the Erebus with Sir John Franklin, that their 
 half-pay had been stopped on the presumption of 
 their being dead, and that they had not been heard 
 of for years. I left him in a few minutes with 
 
 618 
 
iv PREFACE. 
 
 the remark, that I supposed, like myself, he was 
 going home to dinner ; he replied that he had no 
 dinner to go to, or words to that effect. On reach- 
 ing home I sent a dinner to the poor old fellow. 
 In return he sent me his blessing ! To the best 
 of my recollection I never saw him again ; the 
 rest of my story is simply fiction. 
 
 I think I cannot close these remarks better than 
 by thanking (as I do most sincerely) the gentle- 
 men who have so kindly lent the influence of their 
 distinguished names to the title-page of my unworthy 
 book. 
 
 R. H. G. 
 
 London, January, 1870. 
 
AN 
 
 Old Man-oF-Wsp's-Msn's Yarn, 
 
 |E usually -sojourn at Shingle- 
 beach in July we have done so 
 for years past invariably start- 
 ing with the idea that once in such a quiet 
 out-of-the-way place, we should do more 
 work than in town. Delusion ! Not that 
 we would have any one suppose for a 
 moment that we have no ground for com- 
 plimenting ourselves on our assiduity while 
 there, it having amounted to actual be- 
 wilderment before now to particularise the 
 way in which we have spent (not to say 
 wasted) so long as five or six weeks, so 
 fully were we employed ; though we confess 
 (and we do so with shame) that an investi- 
 
gation has too often ended in the dis- 
 covery that the aforesaid assiduity con- 
 sisted mainly in reading, lounging, smoking, 
 throwing a stick into the water, for the 
 sole amusement, of course, of our eager, 
 panting friend " Rover/' and, on an average, 
 falling in love with some well-shapen pair 
 of ankles or other three times a week. 
 Profitable ! 
 
 We remember some years since, when 
 the heads of this story were first indited, 
 and when, indeed, we had little idea that 
 it would ever be dignified with an appear- 
 ance in print, that we were lying on the 
 beach, with our elbows in the sand, when 
 our attention was arrested by hearing 
 
 " Would your honour please to buy a 
 few pipe-lights of a poor old sailor ?" 
 
 We were meditating at the time upon 
 the futility of most human aims were 
 contemplating, as the golden rays of the 
 departing sun danced merrily upon the 
 advancing tide, how gloriously, like the 
 
close of a good life, the day was waning, 
 when the appeal to our charity, made in a 
 feeble, tremulous voice, aroused us to the 
 realities around. Looking up, we beheld 
 a very old man ; so old, indeed, that it 
 seemed the most far-fetched idea imaginable 
 for him to suppose that he need to pro- 
 claim the fact, and who, raising his palsied 
 hand to where his forelock had been 
 within the last forty years or so, repeated 
 his question 
 
 " Would your honour please to buy a 
 few pipe-lights of a poor old sailor ?" 
 
 Purchasing our old friend's stock off 
 hand, which amounted to some such sum 
 as threepence, we inquired of him his 
 age, and whether he managed to obtain a 
 livelihood by selling pipe-lights. 
 
 " Ah ! may heaven preserve your honour 
 as long/' the poor old fellow replied ; " but 
 I'm ninety year old come the loth of next 
 month, and I am thankful to God he has 
 spared me till now !" 
 
" You say you are an old sailor ?" we 
 struck in ; " were you in the merchant 
 service or the navy ?" 
 
 " Both, your honour ; both/' he replied ; 
 " first, I traded off and on to the East for 
 about ten year, and then, God bless her " 
 (the old man reverently inclined his head), 
 " I joined Her Majesty's Royal Navy, 
 where I served nigh forty year, till I was 
 pensioned off with tenpence a day/' 
 
 Expressing our surprise at the smallness 
 of the sum for so long a period of service, 
 we hinted to the old man that, were it quite 
 agreeable to him, we should like to know 
 more about him, whether he had a partner 
 or children living to cheer him in his 
 decline of life. 
 
 " May God bless your honour," he re- 
 plied, and we thought the stick he was 
 leaning on seemed to shake a little as he 
 spoke ; " with as good a pardner as my old 
 mate was to me, for more than fifty year ; 
 but she's gone, your honour gone to 
 
God's mercy five year- ago ; and as for our 
 two poor boys,*" may heaven forefend, your 
 honour, such sorrow as mine, but in '45 
 they sailed with Sir John Franklin, and 
 have never been heard on ! We hoped 
 and hoped, on and on, month after month, 
 year after year, me and my poor missus, 
 sitting by our bit o' fire a winters' nights, 
 thinking how cold it must be with our 
 poor lads in them Artie seas, and a wishing 
 they was with us, or, at least, to hear of 
 'em, when one day the postman come with 
 a great big letter, and my poor old pardner, 
 who was doing a bit o' washing, ups and 
 runs to the door like a child, and comes to 
 me, for she couldn't read, and says, ' Tom ! 
 Tom, old man, here's a letter from our 
 boys ! I'm sure it's from our boys, Tom !' 
 and the poor old creature, God rest her 
 soul, seemed just like out of her mind, and 
 was a fit to cry till it was read to her, your 
 honour, and then she fell like all of heap ; - 
 
 * John and Thomas Hartnell, able seamen ship, Erebus. 
 
 B 
 
10 
 
 and, God be merciful " (the old man in- 
 clined his head as he spoke) " she died 
 soon arter. For you see, your honour, 
 we as a old neighbour in as has glasses, 
 and he reads as how it warn't from our 
 boys at all, but from the Admiralty, to 
 say that as they hadn't a heard nothing of 
 our lads for so long t they must conclude as 
 they was lost ; and, consequently, ' My 
 Lords ' should stop our poor boys' half- 
 pay, which, God bless 'em ! dead or alive 
 yet and I still has hopes, your honour 
 they'd left at home to purwide for their 
 poor old father and mother. 
 
 " And I do thinks/' continued the poor 
 old fellow ; " and, by the way, others have 
 both thought and said so too, pretty 
 strongly, that it was rather sharp upon us 
 poor folk for them to take our boys' 
 money away afore they knowd as they was 
 gone. And now your honour sees what a 
 poor lone man I am, though I dare say 
 there be thousands worse off; still, your 
 
honour, tenpence a day aint much, and 
 that's why I took to selling pipe-lights. 
 But I don't complain, your honour; for 
 when the warrant shall come " (he spoke, 
 though in sea terms, reverently, with his 
 hands clasped, of the decree of death) " may 
 my poor blessing rest on my poor lads, if 
 as how they needs it ; and if not, why I 
 goes to join 'em, and that's my consolation 
 that's my consolation, your honour." 
 
 Finding the poor old fellow was quite 
 overcome with the recollection of his mis- 
 fortunes, we endeavoured, as far as it lay 
 in our power, to assuage the old man's 
 grief, and promising to institute inquiries 
 for him on our return to town, walked with 
 him to his cottage hard by. 
 
 Next morning, having breakfasted, lit 
 our pipe, and undergone that most in- 
 vigorating of processes, a " dip " in the sea, 
 we determined upon visiting the old man, 
 first purchasing a few such trifles ('bacca 
 included) as we thought would be accept- 
 
12 
 
 able to him. Presenting ourselves at his 
 door, our venerable friend seemed not only 
 pleased, but delighted to see us ; and 
 begging us to be seated, drew our atten- 
 tion to a very fine model of a sixty-gun 
 frigate (the original' long since gone to 
 Davy Jones's locker) in which he had 
 served, he said, many years, and seen some 
 rough service. 
 
 An ardent young spirit of ours, of the 
 mature age of a dozen years or so and 
 who at such a period of existence has not 
 felt themselves fearless alike of the din of 
 war and the perils of the sea ? evincing 
 a great desire to hear some of the details 
 in other words, a yarn of the old tar's 
 career, we suggested to him that it might 
 cool our young friend's ardour a bit if he 
 were to narrate some of the misfortunes 
 incidental to such a profession. 
 
 "Well, young gentleman/' he . began, 
 " and when he gets aboard, your honour, 
 may he allus make ' friends forrard,' for 
 
they do say, ' aft the most honour, forrard 
 the better man/ which is as true a saying 
 as that Mother Carey's chickens is a sign 
 o' wind, or that ill-luck attends them as 
 puts to sea o' Fridays. Howsomever, in 
 regard, though, o' being cast away, your 
 honour, and which happened in '5, in the 
 old Blazer o' sixty guns and 600 men, it 
 were somewheres about the end of No- 
 vember, when one day, as we was a lying 
 at Spithead, the shore-boats (or * bum- 
 boats/ as they're call'd) brings off news 
 about a great fight as had took place, and 
 as how Lord Nelson had lick'd the French 
 holler ! I know it were about that time, 
 your honour, 'cause my missus was in dock 
 with our first, which took place aboard 
 quite onexpected, and it were ' heave and 
 pall ' with me that I warn't disrated for 
 letting her come aboard. Well, your 
 honour, by rights we was to have got the 
 anchor with the night tide, bound away, 
 with seal'd orders, nobody know'd where, 
 
14 
 
 when somehow, just as the news gets 
 aboard about the fight, and about Lord 
 Nelson being kill'd, off comes orders from 
 the port admiral to ' dowse ' the blue-peter 
 (haul it down), for that we warn't to sail. 
 
 " Well, next day and for days arter, 
 nothing was talk'd of but Lord Nelson 
 and the wictory o' Trafalgar, and how 
 some would have give ah ! both legs, to 
 have been in it, particularly when they 
 heard as Lord Nelson had been kill'd ; 
 for the men didn't believe there was a 
 Johnny Crapeait as would dare do it. 
 Well, there we lay for some days, with 
 lots o' liberty ashore, which nobody didn't 
 want, cos they'd spent their adwance 
 afore, till one day we see'd signals as Lord 
 Nelson's body was expected, and arter that 
 we guess'd we was to sail. Well, about 
 the middle o' the day, your honour, we 
 sees the Wictory, as has him aboard, 
 coming in with her ensign half-masted, and 
 a firing minute guns ; and o' course we 
 
and all the other ships does the same; and 
 I do hopes you believe me, your honour, 
 when I says that I don't think there was a 
 man in the ship as didn't feel as if he was 
 a ' busting ' with grief when he see'd that 
 wessel a coming in firing them dismal 
 guns! I see some of our chaps, big hardy 
 fellows, as would a faced a lion, turn to 
 and blubber like gals men as I know 
 would a been glad o J the chance o' 
 shoving their own figure-heads under the 
 enemy's cutlass, as Jack Sykes* did, sooner 
 than a hair o' the admiral's head should a 
 been hurt ; and then to see him being 
 towed into Spithead a sheer hulk like ! It 
 was too much for 'em, your honour. It 
 was lucky for them Johnny Crapeaus as 
 the war was over; if that fight had had 
 to come over again, I don't believe our 
 people would a took a single prize ! Not 
 
 * Twice saved Nelson's life, parrying blows, and at last 
 actually interposed his own head to receive the full force 
 of a Spanish sabre. Southey's "Life of Nelson" 
 
i6 
 
 as I means as they couldn't, your honour, 
 but they was that mad with grief and rage, 
 I believe they would have sunk or blowed 
 up every Frenchman on the sea. Why, 
 he was that belov'd, was Lord Nelson, 
 your honour, that several men as couldn't 
 get leave was drown'd trying to swim 
 ashore in the night to go to his funeral ; 
 and I know'd two as walk'd all the way 
 to London to see him stow'd away in 
 SIR Paul's, though they know'd, by the 
 * Articles o' War/ as it was death or three 
 dozen for going without leave. 
 
 "Well, but your honour, in regard though 
 a losing o' the ship, and sailing on onlucky 
 days. We gets the anchor, one Friday 
 about noon, with just a capful o' wind 
 from the southard ; though it was precious 
 heavy, the. anchor seem'd to ' come home,' 
 and the first on the rope didn't sing his 
 best as we brought it to the cathead. Ay, 
 even 'mong the officers, too, there was a 
 goodish deal o' oneasiness, for I heard one 
 
on 'em tell the first lufftenant as he wish'd 
 the captain had sail'd any other day; which 
 the first lufftenant smiles at, and said he 
 wish'd so to, but that orders must be 
 obey'd; and so tells the boatswain to 'splice 
 the main-brace ' (pipe to grog), as the 
 cheeryest way, I 'sposes, o' getting them 
 notions out o' the men's heads. Well, 
 your honour, it might be two or three 
 days arter, and we was a getting well down 
 channel, when it comes on to blow hard, 
 and the sea ' like mountains rolling/ as the 
 song says, right in our teeth. Well, it 
 might be close upon six bells, in the middle 
 watch (three o'clock in the morning), and 
 I'd been on deck since midnight in a pelt- 
 ing rain, with the wind a worse, if any- 
 thing, when just as I was a hoping as they 
 wouldn't call ' all hands,' and keep me out 
 of my watch below, a messmate" o' mine, 
 as has wery sharp eyes, comes up to me 
 and swears he can see breakers ! Well, 
 we was both a-holding on to the weather 
 
i8 
 
 side o' the poop, when our second luff, as 
 has the watch, hears him, and says, 'What's 
 that, my man, what's that ? ' and the man 
 ups and points right away on the weather 
 bow ; and there, sure enough, the officer 
 see with his glass sufficient to make him 
 leave the deck and call the captain and 
 first lufftenant. 
 
 " Well, by this time it was clear as 
 could be that something was wrong; for 
 the captain walks aft to the binnacle to see 
 how her head lay, the moment he come 
 on deck, while the first lufftenant gives 
 orders to ' beat to quarters/ and to * 'bout 
 ship/ Well, your honour, in the beating 
 to quarters I goes to my station, which 
 was on the larboard side the quarter deck, 
 when a flash o' lightning as seem'd to strike 
 every man in the ship, it was so little ex- 
 pected, sliows us the land right ahead, and 
 a ridge o' breakers all round ! Well, with 
 the lightning flashes into my mind about 
 sailing o' Friday, and how we was all sure 
 
to be lost ; and sartinly nothing look'd 
 more likely. Well, we was just a bracing 
 round the yards, trying for to wear her off, 
 when I was pitch'd clean off my feet, and 
 stunn'd agen the breech of a gun. How 
 I come to I never know'd, but as soon as 
 I did, I runs for it on to the poop, as it 
 was clear the ship was ashore, and the 
 masts was a going by the board ! Well, 
 your honour, as soon as I could manage 
 it, I crawls over to windward, where, sure 
 enough, I sees what I thought was the last 
 moments of us all, and what made brave 
 men serious as was never so afore. The 
 sea come boiling up and rushing at us like 
 ten thousand furies broke loose, every 
 moment lifting the ship higher on the 
 rocks, and a washing away rny onfortunate 
 shipmates by scores ! Well, your honour, 
 the captain, the first lufftenant, and two 
 midshipmen was kill'd right alongside o' 
 me by the wreck o' the masts ; for in ten 
 minutes arter she struck there warn't a 
 
stick left standing in her 'cept the foremast 
 and foretop, with a few poor souls clinging 
 to it. How long it seemed, or what we 
 thought of or endured the hours that pass'd 
 till day broke, I'm thankful to God he's 
 a'most forbade me the recollection on ; all 
 as I remembers now, your honour, is, that 
 stiff with the cold and a holding on ' for 
 dear life/ I finds myself afloat on a piece 
 of the wreck, with a man o* the name o' 
 Grummet, as is at Greenwich now, and as 
 they calls 'Old' Grummet, though he warn't 
 above thirty year old when we was saved 
 by a French fishing-boat. For you see, 
 your honour, the wind moderated in the 
 morning, and our firing guns when we 
 struck brought out the fishermen for what 
 they could get, which warn't much 'cept us 
 two out o' 600 poor souls as the sun went 
 down upon ! 
 
 " One poor man as stood it out by me till 
 it was just a getting light, and was the last 
 o' our lot as was wash'd away, gives me a 
 
21 
 
 'bacca-box, which he said if I was saved 
 (for he, he said, couldn't hold out much 
 longer), he hoped I would give his wife, 
 as she give it to him when they was a 
 sweethearting, which would show her, he 
 said, as he was a thinking of her and their 
 two little ones. He was a good shipmate, 
 your honour, was poor Will, and a smart 
 sailor gentle as a woman in the ' sick 
 bay/ and for pluck was as true as steel ! 
 When I found him gone, I thought it was 
 all over with me. I didn't see him go ; 
 the sea broke over us three or four foot 
 deep, your honour, every now and then ; 
 once, when I had a'most lost my breath, 
 I look'd for him, but he was gone, poor 
 man ! O' course, your honour, I give his 
 wife the box, though it warn't till some 
 time arter, and she was in widder's weeds; 
 but, poor creature, she did take on so when 
 I give it her. First she snatches at it, and 
 didn't seem to believe her eyes, and then 
 she falls to a crying and a screeching, and 
 
then a crying agen, till I feels quite sorry 
 as I said anything about it. Howsom- 
 ever, she soon seem'd to forget both her 
 grief and poor Will, for about six months 
 arter she marries a man as was lost in the 
 Spanker frigate, who, they did say, 
 used to ' light her about a bit ' with a rope 
 lantern rope's end her, I mean, your 
 honour." 
 
 Observing a scar on the side of the old 
 fellow's head, we thought it a good oppor- 
 tunity for directing his observations to other 
 events in his life ; and so questioned him 
 respecting it. Did he receive such a deco- 
 ration at the hands of the enemy, and so 
 forth ? 
 
 " Oh ! ah ! your honour, in a ' cutting 
 out' job in the port o' T- . I was sent 
 away one night in the first cutter there 
 was three boats in all, one for each bow 
 and one for the most likely place as we 
 could find for boarding. The prize were 
 a fine French sloop o' war, o' eighteen guns 
 
23 
 
 and two hundred men. The night warn't 
 neither dark nor light, but middling like, 
 with a kind o' scud every now and then 
 between us and the moon. We waited 
 some hours in the shade o' a kind o' pro- 
 montory, till we see the lights out in the 
 town, and so close to the enemy that we 
 could hear the Frenchmen's laughing and 
 singing quite plain brought out to us upon 
 the night wind. Howsomever, it might be 
 somewheres nigh four bells (two o'clock in 
 the morning) when our first 'luff' passes 
 the word for ' out oars,' which, in course, 
 was muffled ; and to move like cats up to 
 the starboard main-chains o' the prize, the 
 other boats taking each bow, and cutting 
 her cable. Well, there she lay, looming 
 rather large for fifty blue jackets and 
 twenty jollies (marines) to take ; but, Lord 
 bless your honour, we had made up our 
 minds to have her, and have her we did, 
 though we was rather oneasy lest the 
 moon should break out, and discover us in 
 
24 
 
 time for her grape and canister shot to 
 tell. Well, presently we gets close to, and 
 at that moment a woice holloas out some 
 French lingo, and fires his musket, which 
 was the signal for such a hullaballo as I 
 never heard afore ! Well, o' course we 
 makes a dash at the main-chains, and a 
 few o' our fellows gets a footing, but it 
 proved such precious hot work, for she 
 was well mann'd, that the first five or six 
 got thrown back, dead as herrings seem- 
 ingly, some with ugly pike wounds, and 
 some with their figure-heads like mine. 
 Howsomever, I, and about a dozen others, 
 makes a * rush ' for it, and manages, by 
 cutting away the boarding-nets with our 
 cutlasses, to get aboard. Well, the last as 
 I remembers when I gets my legs for we 
 had to throw ourselves aboard anyhow 
 was a receiving this ere ' notch ' on my 
 head. It happened this ways. I recol- 
 lects quite well, as I lost my cutlass in the 
 scramble ; and,, with a large ship's pistol, I 
 
2 5 
 
 lets fly at a young French officer more 
 like a gal he look'd, with long curly black 
 hair, but wonderful active though as 
 come a charging dow r n upon me with his 
 bodkin (sword). I remembers firing, and a 
 light flashing into my eyes, but nothing 
 more, till I comes to in the cock-pit, some 
 hours arterwards, just as our doctor had 
 shook his head, and said I should soon 
 * lose the number o' my mess'. Well, your 
 honour, with the loss of about eight men 
 kill'd and twenty wounded, our people 
 brings the prize out through a tremendous 
 fire from the shore ; and some time arter, 
 being sent aboard with a lot o' others to 
 take her into Plymouth, who should I see 
 lying on her deck, with his jaw r s tied up, 
 and looking woful pale, but the identical 
 young French cove as I shot at ! Well, to 
 be sure, I did just stare like, I dare say ; 
 and so did he, for w r e seemed to know 
 each other ; ah, your honour, as though we 
 had been old chums ! and he ups and says 
 
26 
 
 something in French to another young 
 man as was attending on him, and this 
 young chap says a kind o' something to 
 me in half English and half their lingo, as 
 did I furgive his friend, and would I shake 
 hands ? Well, your honour, I've had a 
 different way o' thinking o' them French 
 chaps since then ; so I ups and tells the 
 other chap to say as it was all fair, and o' 
 course I furgives him, and shakes hands ; 
 and its precious sorry I was too, a few hours 
 arterards, to see the sail-maker a sewing of 
 him up in his bed, for he'd slipped his 
 cable while I was aloft parcelling some 
 back-stays, though I was glad, too, as I was 
 out o' the way, for the shedding o' blood 
 aint the best thing in the world for a 
 man's peace o' mind, your honour, though 
 it may be done all fair, and in the heat o' 
 action. We thinks different as we gets 
 older, and it's many a time I've pray'd for 
 him when I've pray'd for my own lads, 
 which I'm sure your honour 'ull say I a' 
 
27 
 
 no need to be ashamed on God rest his 
 soul, and furgive me." 
 
 Assuring the old man that we con- 
 sidered it redounded very much more to 
 his credit than otherwise, we bade him 
 good-day ; promising to call again before 
 we left Shinglebeach, and chat other 
 matters over. 
 
 Mindful of our promise, we determined, 
 the day before our departure for town, 
 upon 'paying our old friend a visit, select- 
 ing for the occasion the evening. The 
 afternoon had been rather stormy, a good 
 deal of rain had fallen, heavy showers, 
 accompanied with thunder and lightning, 
 had cooled the air, and made it light and 
 grateful to the sense. From the hedge- 
 rows and the trees, as we walked along, 
 large drops of rain, that looked like jewels 
 in the leaves, would every now and anon 
 " drip," " drip " to earth, with a degree of 
 solemnity we thought (it was fancy, of 
 course), with our footsteps. Here and 
 
28 
 
 there a solitary insect, as though protest- 
 ing at its loneliness, would " buzz," or 
 nestling "chirp," at our approach. Afar 
 the watch-dog bayed, and on the lea the 
 sheep-bell tinkling, as the whistling plough- 
 boy drove them to the fold, told that 
 another feature in the day was done. 
 Glowering in the west, the sun seemed 
 threatening wind, but all so silent now, 
 that, pausing in our walk, and listening, 
 fancied we could even note the silence on 
 the ear ! We ofttimes muse in such like 
 manner ; we love to do so in the month of 
 May, when Nature, redolent of her gifts, be- 
 speaks of higher and holier things than earth. 
 'Tis then we ponder, as, doubtless, 'twere 
 better if we oftener did review our lives, 
 our early clays, the flight of that which in 
 our boyhood, Time, used so to chafe us by 
 its seeming slothfulness, alas ! now rolling 
 by so fast, that weeks and months, aye, 
 and even years, seem no sooner come than 
 gone ! We were thinking much in this 
 
2 9 
 
 strain, with little else, we trust, than a frog 
 or so to observe our musings, when we 
 became suddenly impressed with the object 
 of our stroll with our intended visit to the 
 old man it seemed to strike us all at once, 
 as it were, that, would we see him again, 
 we should hurry on ; not that anything we 
 had observed would warrant us in such a 
 sad deduction ; still, the idea seemed so to 
 fasten itself upon us, that we determined 
 to favour it ; and, quickening our pace, 
 soon found ourselves at his door. We 
 were on the point of knocking for admis- 
 sion, when we became aware of the door 
 being partially open, and of our worst fears 
 being realised. In bed, surrounded by a 
 few dear friends, lay the poor old fellow, 
 his hands clasped apparently in prayer, 
 while at his side a fair young creature 
 knelt, who appeared to be repeating to him 
 a prayer or verse. We were withdrawing 
 on the instant, feeling that it was indeed 
 too solemn an occasion for intrusion, when 
 
30 
 
 we encountered a well-known medical man, 
 to whom we mentioned what we had un- 
 intentionally observed, and how that we 
 intended deferring our visit. 
 
 " My dear sir," he replied, " I left old 
 
 H , some hours ago, extremely weak, 
 
 and I am almost sure, if you would see 
 him again, that you had better not delay. 
 The young lady you saw is, indeed, a 
 good, sweet creature ; she particularly 
 wished to see the old man again ; she has 
 been a good friend to him, as, indeed, she 
 is to every one (she is the daughter of the 
 rector here) ; and has often visited him, 
 and cheered him with all the hope she 
 could about his sons. I told her some 
 time since of the state of the old man's 
 health, but I think it would be as well if 
 she were to leave him now/' 
 
 Waiting until we were advised that we 
 might enter, we saw at a glance that the 
 sands of life were indeed low that it was 
 doubtful even if the old man knew that we 
 
were present. We were leaving his side, 
 much impressed with the hopelessness of 
 his condition, when he suddenly showed 
 signs of consciousness, and of a desire to 
 speak with us. 
 
 " I'm glad you've come, sir; God bless 
 you," he said with difficulty. " I always 
 loved you for our boys* sake." 
 
 At this juncture his utterance seemed 
 forced, and his breathing short. We tried 
 to dissuade him from talking, but he per- 
 sisted, and would have raised himself on 
 his elbow, but was too weak. 
 
 He spoke again : " I say, God bl.ess you, 
 sir, for me and my poor wife God bless 
 all 'full and by' steady !" 
 
 His mind then at this point must have 
 been wandering amid the scenes of his 
 sea life ; he aroused himself, however, and 
 by an effort wonderful for his condition, 
 raised his hand to his head, and divesting 
 himself of his cap, in deference, as it 
 would seem, to his approaching fate, said, 
 
32 
 
 with great earnestness, " Hark ! my boys 
 are ' hailing ' me ! Thank God I'm 
 happy ; I aint afeard to ' the last word 
 seemed to fail him, his arm fell listlessly 
 upon the bed, and he had passed away ! 
 had embarked upon that dark mysterious 
 tide which never turns, where shot and 
 shipwreck, sword and sorrow, are no more, 
 where only the homeward-bound e'er sail, 
 whose source is Mercy, and whose goal is 
 God! 
 
 CASSFLL, PLTlIiR, AND GALPIN, BELLE SAUVAGK WORKS, LONLON, K.C. 
 
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