and several other necessaries,
such as stockings and pocket-handkerchiefs, were placed for my use on my
father's sea-chest, in my room, without any comment on her part,
although she had paid for them out of her own purse. During the time
that elapsed from my giving up the situation of "Poor Jack" to my
quitting Greenwich, I remained very quietly in my mother's house, doing
everything that I could for her, and employing myself chiefly in reading
books, which I borrowed anywhere that I could. I was very anxious to get
rid of my sobriquet of "Poor Jack," and when so called would tell
everybody that my name was now "Thomas Saunders."

One Sunday, about three weeks after I had given up my berth, I was
walking with my father and Virginia on the terrace of the hospital, when
we perceived a large party of ladies and gentlemen coming toward us. My
father was very proud of us. I had this very day put on the new suit of
clothes which he had ordered for me, and which had been cut out in the
true man-of-war fashion; and Virginia was, as usual, very nicely
dressed. We were walking toward the party who were advancing, when all
of a sudden my father started, and exclaimed:

"Well, shiver my timbers! if it ain't _she_--and _he_--by all that's
blue!"

Who _she_ or _he_ might be neither Virginia nor I could imagine; but I
looked at the party, who were now close to us, and perceived, in advance
of the rest, an enormous lady, dressed in a puce-colored pelisse and a
white satin bonnet. Her features were good, and, had they been on a
smaller scale, would have been considered handsome. She towered above
the rest of the company, and there was but one man who could at all
compete with her in height and size, and he was by her side.

My father stopped, took off his cocked hat, and scraped the gravel with
his timber toe, as he bowed a little forward.

"Sarvant, your honor's ladyship. Sarvant, your honor Sir Hercules."

"Ah! who have we here?" replied Sir Hercules, putting his hand up as a
screen above his eyes. "Who are you, my man?" continued he.

"Tom Saunders, your honor's coxswain, as was in the 'Druid,'" replied my
father, with another scrape of the gravel, "taken in moorings at last,
your honor. Hope to see your honor and your honorable ladyship quite
well."

"I recollect you now, my man," replied Sir Hercules, very stiffly. "And
where did you lose your leg?"

"Battle o' the Nile, your honor; Majesty's ship Oudacious.'"

"How in