Menhardoc | Page 8

getting wet at sea," said the ex-purser, solemnly spreading
a good mouthful of smoke in a semicircle. "Water's wet, specially
salt-water. Here, you, sir! how dare you make holes in your stockings
for your aunt to mend? I don't believe your father ever dared to do such

a thing in his life."
"It don't matter, Abram," said the old lady in a lachrymose whine; "it's
my fate to toil, and I'm not long for this world, so it don't matter. It was
my fate to be a toiler; and those clothes of his will be too small for him
to wear when they're dry. I don't know what I'm to do."
"Stretch 'em," said the old gentleman, sending a cloud into his
waistcoat.
"But they won't stretch," cried the old lady peevishly.
"Put 'em away and save 'em," said the old man. "I may adopt another
nevvy--smaller size,"--and here there was a veil spread over his face by
his projecting his lower lip and sending the smoke up into his eyes.
"If you ever did such a thing again, I'd have a divorce," cried the old
lady sharply. "You go and change your things, sir, and then get a book
till dinner's ready."
The old lady stepped into the parlour, and the old purser was in the act
of winking solemnly at his nephew when Mrs Marion reappeared.
"Ah, I saw!" she cried. "You are encouraging this boy, Abram. Here;
Betsey, bring your flannel and wipe up this mess. And you, go in
directly and change your things."
The old lady disappeared again, and the wrinkles stood all over the old
purser's face as he growled softly between fancy puffs of smoke.
"Woman's words in house, Will, is like cap'en's orders 'board ship, with
the articles over at the back. Must be minded, or it's rank mutiny, and a
disrate. Puff. Go and get a dry rig."
"Yes, uncle," said Will quietly.
"And--puff--you--puff--must be more careful of your clothes--puff, boy.
Puff, puff, puff. We all sail through life--puff--under orders.
Puff.--Few of us is cap'ens--puff. Very few of us is admirals--puff; and

what with admiralty and the gov'ment--puff, puff, and the people's
opinion--puff, and the queen--puff; they can't do so much as they like,
as a regular tar. Puff, puff."
The way in which the ex-purser distributed his tobacco smoke during
this oracular lecture to his brother's orphan son was something
astounding; and he had smoked so heavily that it seemed at last as if he
were trying to veil himself from the lad's gaze lest he should see the
weakness exhibited with regard to Mrs Marion's rule; while he kept
glancing uneasily at the lad, as if feeling that he was read by heart.
"All right, uncle, I understand," said Will, turning to go.
"That's right--puff, Will. Good lad. Your aunt means well, and if she
pitches into us both--rams us, as you may say, Will, why, we know,
eh?"
"Oh yes, uncle, we know."
"It don't hurt us, lad. She says lots about what you cost for food, and
what an expense you've been to her, and she calls you lazy."
"Yes, uncle," said Will, sadly.
"But what do it amount to, eh? Only tongue, and tongue's only tongue
after all."
"No, uncle."
The last puff of smoke had been sucked out of the pipe, and the old
gentleman kept on gesticulating with it as he spoke.
"Only tongue, lad. Your aunt's one o' the finest and best and truest
women under the sun. See how clean she's always kept you ever since
you first come to us."
"No, uncle, since you came and fetched me from that miserable school,
and said, `don't cry, my man; you're my own brother's boy, and as long
as I live I'll be a father to you.'"

"Did I say them words, Will? Was they the very words?"
"Yes, uncle," cried the lad, flushing; "the very words;" and he laid his
hand affectionately on the old man's shoulder.
"Ah! well, and very proper words too, I suppose," said the old man;
"and I did mean to be, lad; but you see I never had no experience of
being a father, and I'm afraid I've made a mess of it."
"You've always been like the kindest of fathers to me, uncle," said Will
warmly.
"And she's always been the kindest of mothers, like, my lad. Lor' bless
you, Will, my boy, it's only tongue. Splendid craft your aunt is, only
she's overweighted with engine, and her bilers is a bit too big. Tongue's
safety-valve, Will, and I never sit on it, my lad. Make things worse.
Burst."
"Yes, uncle, I see," said Will, with a sad smile.
"You're all right, my lad. I didn't care to send you in the Ryle Navee, so
I did the next