“Mary, when yonder boundless sea
Shall part us, and perchance for ever,
Think not my heart can stray from thee,
Or cease to mourn thine absence—never!
And when in distant climes I roam,
Forlorn, unfriended, broken-hearted—”
“Don’t say so, Tom—don’t say so,” interrupted the old woman.
Tom continued—
“Oft shall I sigh for thee and home,
And all those joys from which I parted.”
“Aye, so he does, poor fellow, I’ll be bound to say. What would I give to see his dear, smiling face!” said Mrs Beazeley.
“And I’d give no little, missus, myself. But still, it’s the duty for every man to serve his country; and so ought Tom, as his father did before him. I shall be glad to see him back: but I’m not sorry that he’s gone. Our ships must be manned, old woman; and if they take men by force, it’s only because they won’t volunteer—that’s all. When they’re once on board they don’t mind it. You women require pressing just as much as the men, and it’s all much of a muchness.”
“How’s that Tom?”
“Why, when we make love, and ask you to marry, don’t you always pout, and say, ‘No!’ You like being kissed, but we must take it by force. So it is with manning a ship. The men all say, ‘No;’ but when they are once there, they like the service very much—only, you see, like you, they want pressing. Don’t Tom write and say that he’s quite happy, and don’t care where he is so long as he’s with Jacob?”
“Yes; that’s true; but they say Jacob is to be discharged and come home, now that he’s come to a fortune; and what will Tom say then?”
“Why, that is the worst of it. I believe that Jacob’s heart is in the right place; but still, riches spoil a man. But we shall see. If Jacob don’t prove ‘true blue,’ I’ll never put faith in man again. But there be changes in this world, that’s sartin.