'If the Archbishop of Canterbury were to tell me Greek and Latin authors are bad for me, I should listen to his remarks, because he's a scholar: he knows the languages and knows what they contain.'
Captain Welsh replied,
'If the Archbishop o' Canterbury sailed the sea, and lived in Foul Alley, Waterside, when on shore, and so felt what it is to toss on top of the waves o' perdition, he'd understand the value of a big, clean, well-manned, well-provisioned ship, instead o' your galliots wi' gaudy sails, your barges that can't rise to a sea, your yachts that run to port like mother's pets at first pipe o' the storm, your trim-built wherries.'
'So you'd have only one sort of vessel afloat!' said I. 'There's the difference of a man who's a scholar.'
'I'd have,' said the captain, 'every lad like you, my lad, trained in the big ship, and he wouldn't capsize, and be found betrayed by his light timbers as I found you. Serve your apprenticeship in the Lord's three-decker; then to command what you may.'
'No, no, Captain Welsh,' says Temple: 'you must grind at Latin and Greek when you're a chick, or you won't ever master the rudiments. Upon my honour, I declare it's the truth, you must. If you'd like to try, and are of a mind for a go at Greek, we'll do our best to help you through the aorists. It looks harder than Latin, but after a start it's easier. Only, I'm afraid your three-decker's apprenticeship 'll stand in your way.'
'Greek 's to be done for me; I can pay clever gentlemen for doing Greek for me,' said the captain. 'The knowledge and the love of virtue I must do for myself; and not to be wrecked, I must do it early.'
'Well, that's neither learning nor human nature,' said I.
'It's the knowledge o' the right rules for human nature, my lad.'
'Would you kidnap youngsters to serve in your ship, captain?'