t unwieldy, bloated mountain of flesh,
such a form as I have never since beheld, although, at the time, she did
not appear to me to be disgusting, accustomed to witness imperceptibly
her increase, and not seeing any other females, except at a distance.
For the last two years she had seldom quitted her bed--certainly she did
not crawl out of the cabin more than five minutes during the week--
indeed, her obesity and habitual intoxication rendered her incapable.
My father went on shore for a quarter of an hour once a month, to
purchase gin, tobacco, red herrings, and decayed ship-biscuits;--the
latter was my principal fare, except when I could catch a fish over the
sides, as we lay at anchor. I was, therefore, a great water-drinker,
not altogether from choice, but from the salt nature of my food, and
because my mother had still sense enough left to discern that "Gin
wasn't good for little boys." But a great change had taken place in my
father. I was now left almost altogether in charge of the deck, my
father seldom coming up except to assist me in shooting the bridges, or
when it required more than my exertions to steer clear of the crowds of
vessels which we encountered when between them. In fact, as I grew more
capable, my father became more incapable, and passed most of his time in
the cabin, assisting my mother in emptying the great stone bottle. The
woman had prevailed upon the man, and now both were guilty in partaking
of the forbidden fruit of the Juniper Tree. Such was the state of
affairs in our little kingdom when the catastrophe occurred which I am
now about to relate.

One fine summer's evening we were floating up with the tide, deeply
laden with coals, to be delivered at the proprietor's wharf, some
distance above Putney Bridge; a strong breeze sprang up and checked our
progress, and we could not, as we expected, gain the wharf that night.
We were about a mile and a half above the bridge when the tide turned
against us, and we dropped our anchor. My father who, expecting to
arrive that evening, had very unwillingly remained sober, waiting until
the lighter had swung to the stream, and then saying to me, "Remember,
Jacob, we must be at the wharf early tomorrow morning, so keep alive,"
went into the cabin to indulge in his potations, leaving me in
possession of the deck, and also of my supper, which I never ate below,
the little cabin being so unpleasantly close. Indeed, I took all my
meals _al fresco_,