“Madam,” said Lieutenant Burney, “I pray you to give me leave to bear you out; but at the same time to make excuses for Fan. I must do so in justice to her, for the blame rests with me so far as the herring-boning is concerned. I confess, with tears in my eyes, that ’twas I who provided her with the last models for her herring-boning; and ’twas surely some demon in my breast that prompted me to substitute the skeleton of one of the South Sea fishes which I hooked when becalmed with Captain Cook within sight of Otaheite, for the true herring whose backbone is a model of regularity to be followed by all workers with the needle, when deprived of the flesh, which is the staple fare of hundreds of honest families and, while nourishing them amply, prevents their thoughts from carrying them beyond the region pervaded by the smell of their cooking.”
“That were a wide enough area upon occasions for the most ambitious of thinkers,” said Dr. Burney, controlling his features, seeing that his wife took the ward-room humour of his son with dreadful seriousness. He made a sign to James to go no further—but James had gone round the world once, and he was not to be checked in a humbler excursion.
“Yes, madam, ’tis my duty to confess that Fanny’s model was the flying-fish, and not the simple Channel herring, hence the failure to achieve the beautiful regularity of design which exists in the backbone of the latter from the figurehead to the stern, larboard sloping in one direction and starboard in the other. If anyone be culpable ’tis myself, not Fanny; but I throw myself on your mercy, and only implore that the herring-boning of my sister will not result in a whaling for me.”
Mrs. Burney looked seriously from her brother to Fanny, and getting no cue from either, began:
“’Tis indeed honourable for you to endeavour by your confession to excuse the fault of your sister, James—”
“The traditions of the service, madam—” began the lieutenant, laying his hand on his heart; but he got no further, for Fanny could restrain herself no longer; she burst into a laugh and dropped her work, and her father rose, holding up his hand.
“The jest has gone far enough, James,” he said. “We sleep in beds in this house and do not swing in hammocks. Keep your deep-sea jests until you are out of soundings, if it please you.”
“I ask your pardon, sir,” said James; “but i’ faith there’s many a true word said in jest; and it seems to me that there’s a moral in the parable of the young woman who took the flying-fish of the South Seas for her model rather than the herring of the three-fathom coastline of the Channel; and that moral touches close upon the complaint made by our good mother against Mr. Garrick.”
“Let it be so,” said Mrs. Burney, who was a clever enough woman to perceive that it would be unwise to make a grievance of the impudence of a young naval gentleman. “Let it be so; let it be that we are simple, homely, wholesome herrings, we are none the better for such a flying-fish as Mr. Garrick coming among us, giving us, it may be, the notion that our poor fins are wings, and so urging us to make fools of ourselves by emulating the eagle. The moral of your fable is that we should keep to our own element—is not that so, sir?”