The gentleman in the plaid cloak commended him very much for his resolution; for he said, "that although the journey to and from Portsmouth would cost twice the value of a gold seal, yet, that in the end it might be worth a Jew's Eye." What he meant I did not comprehend.
Whenever the coach stopped, the sailor called for more ale, and always threw the remainder which he could not drink into the face of the man who brought it out for him, just as the coach was starting off, and then tossed the pewter pot on the ground for him to pick up. He became more tipsy every stage, and the last from Portsmouth, when he pulled out his money, he could find no silver, so he handed down a note, and desired the waiter to change it. The waiter crumpled it up and put it into his pocket, and then returned the sailor the change for a one-pound note; but the gentleman in the plaid had observed that it was a five-pound note which the sailor had given, and insisted upon the waiter producing it, and giving the proper change. The sailor took his money, which the waiter handed to him, begging pardon for the mistake, although he coloured up very much at being detected. "I really beg your pardon," said he again, "it was quite a mistake;" whereupon the sailor threw the pewter pot at the waiter, saying, "I really beg your pardon, too,"—and with such force, that it flattened upon the man's head, who fell senseless on the road. The coachman drove off, and I never heard whether the man was killed or not.
After the coach had driven off, the sailor eyed the gentleman in the plaid cloak for a minute or two, and then said, "When I first looked at you I took you for some officer in mufti; but now that I see you look so sharp after the rhino, it's my idea that you're some poor devil of a Scotchman, mayhap second mate of a marchant vessel—there's half a crown for your services—I'd give you more if I thought you would spend it."
The gentleman laughed, and took the half-crown, which I afterwards observed that he gave to a grey-headed beggar at the bottom of Portsdown Hill. I inquired of him how soon we should be at Portsmouth; he answered that we were passing the lines; but I saw no lines, and I was ashamed to show my ignorance. He asked me what ship I was going to join. I could not recollect her name, but I told him it was painted on the outside of my chest, which was coming down by the waggon; all that I could recollect was that it was a French name.
"Have you no letter of introduction to the captain?" said he.
"Yes I have," replied I; and I pulled out my pocket-book in which the letter was. "Captain Savage, H.M. ship Diomede," continued I, reading to him.
To my surprise he very coolly proceeded to open the letter, which, when I perceived what he was doing, occasioned me immediately to snatch the letter from him, stating my opinion at the same time that it was a breach of honour, and that in my opinion he was no gentleman.
"Just as you please, youngster," replied he. "Recollect, you have told me I am no gentleman."
He wrapped his plaid around him, and said no more; and I was not a little pleased at having silenced him by my resolute behaviour.