"I am rebuked, Prose," replied Stewart; "you shall have my glass of grog
for that speech, for you never made a better. Give me your hand, my
good fellow."

"I am glad that you, at last, show some symptoms of reason," observed
the still indignant Jerry, standing close to the door. "I have some
hopes of your Majesty yet, after such an extraordinary concession on
your part. You must have great reason to be proud that you are able to
trace your pedigree up to a border chieftain, who sallied forth on the
foray, when the spurs were dished up for his dinner: or, in plain words,
went a cattle stealing, and robbing those who could not resist. It
might then be considered a mark of prowess; but times are altered now;
and if your celebrated ancestor lived in the present time, why,"
continued Jerry, pointing his finger under his left ear, "he would
receive what he well deserved, that's all."

"By Him that made me, get out of my reach, if you do not wish me to
murder you!" cried Stewart, pale with rage.

"I took care of that," replied Jerry, "before I ventured to give my
opinion; and now that I'm ready for a start, I'll give you a piece of
advice. Trace your ancestors as far back as you can, as long as they
have continued to be honest men,--if you don't stop there you are a
_fool_"--and Jerry very prudently made his escape at the conclusion of
his sentence.

"The hour of retribution will come," cried Stewart after Jerry, as the
latter sprang up the ladder; but it did not, for when they met next
morning, it was to feast their eyes upon the chalky cliffs of the Isle
of Wight, as the _Aspasia_ steered for the Needles. There are two
events on board of a man-of-war, after which injuries are forgotten,
apologies are offered and received, intended duels are suppressed, hands
are exchanged in friendship, and good-will drives away long-cherished
animosity. One is, after an action--another, upon the sight of native
land, after a protracted absence.

Jerry fearlessly ranged up alongside of Stewart, as he looked over the
gangway.

"We shall be at anchor by twelve o'clock."

"You may bless your stars for it," replied Stewart, with a significant
smile.

The _Aspasia_ now ran through the Needles, and having successively
passed by Hurst Castle, Cowes, and the entrance to Southampton Water,
brought up at Spithead, in seven fathoms. The sails were furled, the
ship was moored, the boat was manned, and Captain M--- went on shore to