d I shouldn't mind if you passed the beer this way, for this
long yarn has made my throat somewhat dry."

"When you've had your swig, old chap, you may as well tell us how the
matter ended," observed my father.

"Why, it just ended in our losing the whale in the first place, and the
boat with her gear in the second. We were picked up by the other boat,
and there was no time to be lost, for the sharks were brought together
by the scent of the whale's blood; the whale sounded again, and we were
obliged to cut the line, and return on board. But God bless you,
messmate, I could tell you many a longer yarn than that, and mayhap I
shall some day or another."

"Well, I hope you will," replied my father; "but your fishing story has
put me in mind of rather a curious fish, caught by a lad on board of a
man-of-war: and suppose I finish what's at the bottom of this here pot;
send Jack for another, and when he comes back, I'll tell you all about
it."

"There's nothing gives me more satisfaction," replied Ben, "than to pass
away the evening in a sober, quiet way, as we are doing now, telling and
listening to long yarns. Ain't you sleepy, Jack?"

"Oh! no," replied I, "not a bit. I'll run for the porter; and don't let
father begin till I come back, Ben. The house will be shut up soon:
shall I get more than a pot?"

"Yes, Jack; but not more beer," replied my father, putting some silver
into my hand; "get one pot of beer, and a bottle of rum. We'll have
that by way of a nightcap, old boy."

I ran for the beer and liquor, and was soon back. My father and Ben
refilled their pipes, and the former commenced as follows:--

"When I was quarter-master on board of the Melpomene, we had an old chap
for first lieutenant whose name was Fletcher. He was a kind-hearted man
enough, as he never worried the ship's company when there was no
occasion; but, at the same time, he was what you call a great stickler
for duty--made no allowances for neglect or disobedience of orders,
although he would wink at any little skylarking, walking aft, shutting
his eyes, and pretending not to see or hear it. His usual phrase was,
`My man, you've got your duty to do, and I've got mine.' And this he
repeated fifty times a day; so at last he went by the name of `Old
Duty.' I think I see him now, walking up and down with his spy-glass
under his left arm, and the hand of the other pushed into his breast, as
if he were fumbling for a flea. His hat was a