The naval officer was myself—the reader’s obsequious slave. As for the boatman, one thing must be said in his favour, he seemed to be a person of religious character—in one thing at least, for, on the Day of Judgment, I, for one, will not be able to turn round and say to him “I was a stranger and ye took me not in,” for he did take me in. In fact, Portsmouth, as a town, is rather particular on this point of Christianity: they do take strangers in.
“Where away to?” asked the jolly waterman, leaning a moment on his oars.
“H.M.S. ‘Victory,’” replied I.
“Be going for to join, I dessay, sir?”
“You are right,” said I; “but have the goodness to pull so that I may not be wet through on both sides.”
“Can’t help the weather, sir.”
“I’ll pay here,” said I, “before we go alongside.”
“Very good, sir.”
“How much?”
“Only three shillings, sir.”