tsmouth. When he came to
the door to help us out, Nettleship began to thank him.

"I don't want your thanks, young masters," he answered gruffly. "I've
had my spree, and maybe before long I shall be at your beck and call;
but I'm my own master now, and intend to remain so as long as the gold
pieces jingle in my pocket. Maybe I'll have another ride up to London
in a day or two, and if you like the trip, I'll give it you. You may
thank me or not as you like."

Nettleship and I saw that it would be no use saying more, so, wishing
him good evening, we took our way down to the Hard. I turned for a
moment, and saw our friend rolling up the middle of the street with his
hands in his pockets, as proud as the grand bashaw.

A few nights after this Tom Pim and I, having leave on shore, took it
into our heads to go to the theatre. In the front row of seats sat our
friend who had given us so seasonable a lift down from London. The
seats on either side of him were vacant, and when any one attempted to
occupy them he told them to be off. He had taken three seats that he
might enjoy himself. There he was, with his arms folded, looking as if
he thought himself the most important person in the house. There were a
good many more seamen on the other benches,--indeed, the house was more
than half filled with them, some in the pit, others in the upper boxes
and galleries. The play was "The Brigand's Bride." The lady evidently
had a hard time of it, and appeared to be in no way reconciled to her
lot, her great wish being clearly to make her escape. In this attempt
she was aided by a young noble in silk attire, who made his appearance
whenever the brigand, a ferocious-looking ruffian, was absent. The lady
made piteous appeals to the audience for sympathy, greatly exciting the
feelings of many of them, though Tom and I were much inclined to laugh
when we saw the brigand and the lover hob-nobbing with each other behind
a side scene, which, by some mischance, had not been shoved forward
enough. At length the young count and the brigand met, and had a
tremendous fight, which ended in the death of the former, who was
dragged off the stage. Soon afterwards, the lady rushed on to look for
him, and the brigand, with his still reeking sword, was about to put an
end to her existence, when, stretching out her hands, she exclaimed--

"Is there no help for me on earth? Am I, the hapless one, to die by the
weapon of this cruel ruffian?"