re. I am like you, with a clean swept hold.
You acknowledge the difficulty?"

"It stares me in the face, Bob; what must be done?"

"I'll tell you--in the first place, what have you for dinner?"

"Moonshine, what have we got for dinner?"

"Dinner, sar?--me not yet tink about dinner. What you like to eat,
sar?"

"What have we got in the house, Moonshine?"

"Let me see, sar? first place, we ab very fine piece picklum pork; den
we have picklum pork; and den--let me tink--den we ab, we ab picklum
pork, sar."

"The long and the short of it is, Bob, that we have nothing but a piece
of pickled pork; can you dine off that?"

"Can a duck swim, Cockle!"

"Please, sar, we ab plenty pea for _dog baddy_," said Moonshine.

"Well, then, Cockle, as all that is required is to put the pot on the
fire, you can probably spare Moonshine, after he has done that, and we
will look to the cookery; start him off with a note to Mr Johns, and he
can bring back a couple of bottles from my quarters."

"Really dat very fine tought, Massa Farren; I put in pork, and den I go
and come back in one hour."

"That you never will, Mr Moonshine; what's o'clock now? mercy on us,
how time flies in your company, Cockle, it is nearly four o'clock; it
will be dark at six."

"Neber mind, sar, me always ab _moonshine_ whereber I go," said the
black, showing his teeth.

"It will take two hours to boil the pork, Bob; that fellow has been so
busy this morning that he has quite forgot the dinner."

"All you business, Massa Cockle."

"Very true; but now start as soon as you can, and come back as soon as
you can; here's the note."

Moonshine took the note, looked at the direction, as if he could read
it, and in a few minutes was seen to depart.

"And now, Cockle," said I, "as Moonshine will be gone some time, suppose
you spin us a yarn to pass away the time."

"I'll tell you what, Bob, I am not quite so good at that as I used to
be. I've an idea that when my pate became bald, my memory oozed away by
insensible perspiration."

"Never mind, you must have something left, you can't be quite empty."

"No, but my tumbler is; so I'll just fill that up, and then I'll tell
you how it was that I came to go to sea."

"The very thing that I should like to hear, above all others."

"Well, then, you must know that, like cockles in general, I was born on
the sea-shore, just a quarter of a mile out of Dover, towards
Shakespeare's Cliff. My father was a fi