"Did the old woman get under weigh sudden?" said the convivial one.
Fixing his eyes upon his interrogator, and mechanically grasping the tankard, which was thrust into his hand, Jerry, with most dejected countenance and in a whisper, replied,
"Sudden? I rayther think she did. She went off like—" Saying this, he heaved a deep sigh, looked resignedly at the half and half, blew off the froth and gulped it down; then directing his shipmate's attention to a distant part of the bar, he seized the opportunity and made off.
The convivial sailor bawled after him to come back; but finding it a useless proceeding, returned to the bar, and calling together a host of generous spirits, ordered the landlord to supply them with unlimited beer. This was done until the sailor became unruly, when the honest landlord thrashed him severely, emptied his pockets, and kicked him into the street, whence he was conveyed to the station-house, where "he enjoyed his liberty" all night.
It being somewhat late the next morning before the magistrate released him, he was, upon leaving the police-court, arrested as a deserter by the ship's corporal, and when he arrived on board, Lieutenant Crushe informed him "that his grog was stopped for a month, and three pounds sterling would be deducted from his wages, the same to be paid over to the ship's corporal for arresting him." This double-barrelled style of punishment was not much to the man's taste; but knowing it would be useless to say a word in defence, he pulled his forelock and left the quarter-deck, vowing he'd never go ashore agin as long as he belonged to the Stinger.
Jerry soon found out the house where Captain Puffeigh was visiting; but in his uncertainty whether the family were out, he steered clear of the front door, and dived down a lane which ran to the back of the premises. Now, it was a very easy matter to tell the right house by the front, as the name "Portland Villa" was marked upon the gate; but the back doors were provokingly alike, and the poor fellow was sorely puzzled to know at which to knock.
In vain he tried to make out the form of his lady-love at one of the windows. He saw several very pretty girls, who evidently would not have objected to a little flirtation, but he dared not even wink at one of them, fearing Mary Ann might detect him in the act, or subsequently hear of it. It was almost as great a temptation as the half and half; and had it been a closer one, he might have yielded as easily.
Finding an empty barrel near one of the doors, he seated himself on it; and lighting his pipe, waited for the appearance of some one who would give him the information he required. Over the door was clustered a mass of ivy; and as he presently heard a voice which strongly reminded him of his girl's, he kicked off his shoes, and clambering up, soon found himself in a position to ascertain if his conjecture was correct.
Judge his horror and astonishment, when this feat revealed to him Mary Ann—his own Mary Ann—actually kissing a sergeant of the line. The sight nearly took away his breath. He rubbed his eyes, chewed a leaf of ivy to ascertain if he were awake, found from the flavour that he was, looked again, and saw her kiss him a second time (on this occasion the salute was returned by the military man), then with a smothered groan he relaxed his grasp of the ivy, and lowered himself into the lane. For some moments he could hardly credit it was a reality; but the flavour of the ivy lingering upon his proved to him it was not a vision.
"Blame his imperdince: and to think my gal could kiss a soger!" he cried. However—there was no good in lamenting over it, revenge was his next idea: so he walked up and down the lane, now and then stopping to square off at imaginary soldiers, by way of relieving his pent-up rage, until his rival should make his appearance.