I have known the somewhat startling nautical command, "Get the whip ready for the ladies," blanch many a fair cheek with sudden and most causeless alarm. It cannot be denied that we "gentlemen of the ocean" have singular names for things; but every thing at sea must have a name, or there would be no getting along.
I have only farther to remark on this subject, that horses are infinitely more tractable in taking on board a ship, than ladies; for the moment the horse perceives his feet are clear of the ground, he becomes perfectly quiet and passive; whereas, the lady is always quiet while a handsome young officer is arranging the flags, &c. about her feet; but as soon as she is fairly in the air, she begins to scream, and kick, and bounce about, to the imminent risk of her bones; and just at the time when common sense and instinct teach the quadruped to keep perfectly still, women, who have but little common sense in such cases, and no instinct at all, are the most intractable and restless.
Morton followed the last lady, namely, Isabella, and, as he stepped over the gangway, was accosted by his brother officer.
"What a thundering pretty girl that last one is!"
"She is the governor's niece," said Morton.
"You may tell that to the marines," said Coffin; "I'll be shot if there's as much Spanish blood in her veins as would grease the point of a sail-needle."
"They say so ashore," said Morton.
"I don't care what they say; I'll believe my eyes before the best Spaniard among them."
"Who knows," said Morton, "but that infernal soldier, that's buzzing about her, may one day be the husband of that sweet girl?"
"There's no knowing," said Coffin, yawning; "but you and I, Charlie, can't marry all the pretty girls that are like to have fools for husbands."