evrette,
and I found that he had fulfilled it. I thanked him the next time we
met off duty.

"Yes, Mr Merry; I like to serve my friends, and serve out my enemies.
Not that poor Mr Spellman is an enemy of yours or mine; but--I say it
with all due respect--he is a goose, and I like to baste geese."

I did not repeat to Spellman what Mr Johnson had said of him. I had an
intuitive feeling that it was harmful to tell a person what another says
of him, except it happens to be something especially pleasant. I
believe more ill-blood and mischief is created in that way than in any
other.

Soon after this, we sailed on a cruise to the westward, for the purpose
of intercepting some of the enemy's homeward-bound merchantmen.

Notwithstanding what I have said of Spellman, I was in reality on very
good terms with him. He was continually playing me tricks; but then I
paid him off in his own coin. I had, however, made the friendship of
another messmate, George Grey by name. He was about my own age and
size, and came from Leicestershire, but from a different part of the
county to that where my family lived. I liked him, because he was such
an honest, upright little fellow. No bullying or persuasion could make
him do what he thought wrong. I do not mean to say that he never did
anything that was wrong. When he did, it was without reflection. I
never knew him to do premeditated harm. We stuck by each other on all
occasions; skylarked together, studied navigation together; and when we
were together the biggest bully in the mess held us in respect. Mr
Johnson liked George Grey as much as he did me.

I had never got the boatswain to commence his history. I told Grey that
I was determined to get it out of him, as it was certain to be amusing,
though we agreed that we were not bound to believe all he said. He
certainly was an extraordinary character. A boaster and a man (I do not
like to use a harsh term) who is addicted to saying what is not true, is
generally found to be a coward, and often a bully; whereas my worthy
friend was as brave as a lion and, gruff as was his voice, as gentle as
a lamb, as he used to say of himself, if people would but stroke him the
right way; and I can assert a kinder hearted monster never lived. Grey
and I, one afternoon when it was our watch below, found him in his
cabin. He was taking his after-dinner potation of rum and water,
y-clept "grog," and reading by the light of a purser's dip.