inkling, trumpeting men, of our simple kind, which is the sort the
sea rears. There for many a mellow hour of the night was I perched
upon a chair at my uncle's side, delighting in the cheer which
enclosed me--in the pop of the cork, the inspiriting passage of the
black bottle, the boisterous talk and salty tales, the free
laughter--but in which I might not yet, being then but seven years
old, actively partake.

When in the first of it my uncle called for his dram, he would never
fail to catch the bar-maid's hand, squeeze it under the table, with
his left eyelid falling and his displaced jaw solemnly ajar, informing
her the while, behind his thumb and forefinger, the rest of that hand
being gone, that I was a devil of a teetotaler: by which (as I
thought, and, I'll be bound, he knew well I would think) my years were
excused and I was admitted to the company of whiskered skippers upon
a footing of equality. 'Tis every man's privilege, to be sure, to
drink rum or not, as he will, without loss of dignity.

If his mates would have me drink a glass with them my uncle would not
hinder.

"A nip o' ginger-ale," says I, brash as a sealing-captain.

'Twas the despair of my uncle. "Lord love us!" says he, looking with
horror upon the bottle.

"T' you, sir," says I, with my glass aloft, "an' t' the whole bally
crew o' ye!"

"Belly-wash!" groans my uncle.

And so, brave and jolly as the rest of them, forgetting the doses of
jalap in store for me when I was got back to the Tickle, I would now
have my ninny (as they called it). Had the bar-maids left off kissing
me--but they would not; no, they would kiss me upon every coming, and
if I had nothing to order 'twas a kiss for my virtue, and if I drank
'twas a smack for my engaging manliness; and my only satisfaction was
to damn them heartily--under my breath, mark you! lest I be soundly
thrashed on the spot for this profanity, my uncle, though you may now
misconceive his character, being in those days quick to punish me. But
such are women: in a childless place, being themselves childless, they
cannot resist a child, but would kiss queer lips, and be glad o' the
chance, because a child is lovely to women, intruding where no
children are.

As a child of seven I hated the bar-maids of the Anchor and Chain,
because they would kiss me against my will when the whiskered
skippers went untouched. But that was long ago....

* * * * *

I mus