“Oh! Wilson gave you a passage; he’s an old friend of mine.”
“So he is of ours,” replied Jack; “he’s a devilish good sort of a fellow, Wilson.”
“But where have you been since you came out?” inquired Captain Tartar.
“In the Harpy,” replied Jack, “to be sure, I belong to her.”
“You belong to her! in what capacity may I ask?” inquired Captain Tartar, in a much less respectful and confidential tone.
“Midshipman,” replied Jack; “so is Mr Gascoigne.”
“Umph! you are on leave then.”
“No, indeed,” replied Jack; “I’ll tell you how it is, my dear fellow.”
“Excuse me for one moment,” replied Captain Tartar, rising up; “I must give some directions to my servant which I forgot.”
Captain Tartar hailed his coxswain out of the window, gave orders just outside of the door, and then returned to the table. In the meantime, Gascoigne, who expected a breeze, had been cautioning Jack, in a low tone, at intervals, when Captain Tartar’s back was turned; but it was useless, the extra quantity of wine had got into Jack’s head, and he cared nothing for Gascoigne’s remonstrance. When the captain resumed his seat at the table, Jack gave him the true narrative of all that had passed, to which his guest paid the greatest attention. Jack wound up his confidence by saying that in a week or so he should go back to Don Rebiera and propose for Donna Agnes.