"Leach," continued the captain, more kindly, and still working his fingers unconsciously, "come this way, my good friend. I have not expressed to you, Mr. Leach, all I wish to say of your good conduct in this late affair. You have stood by me like a gallant fellow throughout the whole business, and I shall not hesitate about saying as much when we get in. It is my intention to write a letter to the owners, which no doubt they'll publish; for, whatever they have got to say against America, no one will deny it is easy to get any thing published. Publishing is victuals and drink to the nation. You may depend on having justice done you."
"I never doubted it, Captain Truck."
"No, sir; and you never winked. The mainmast does not stand up in a gale firmer than you stood up to the niggers."
"Mr. Effingham, sir--and Mr. Sharp--and particularly Mr. Blunt--"
"Let me alone to deal with them. Even Toast acted like a man. Well, Leach, they tell me poor Monday must slip, after all."
"I am very sorry to hear it, sir; Mr. Monday laid about him like a soldier!"
"He did, indeed; but Bonaparte himself has been obliged to give up the ghost, and Wellington must follow him some day; even old Putnam is dead. Either you or I, or both of us, Leach, will have to throw in some of the consolations of religion on this mournful occasion."
"There is Mr. Effingham, sir, or Mr. John. Effingham, elderly gentlemen with more scholarship."
"That will never do. All they can offer, no doubt, will be acceptable, but we owe a duty to the ship. The officers of a packet are not graceless-horse-jockeys, but sober, discreet men, and it becomes them to show that they have some education, and the right sort of stuff in them on an emergency. I expect you will stand by me, Leach, on this melancholy occasion, as stoutly as you stood by me this morning."
"I humbly hope, sir, not to disgrace the vessel, but it is likely Mr. Monday is a Church-of-England-man, and we both belong to the Saybrook Platform!"