“Then,” said Mr Denham, “save me the trouble of refusing, and yourself the pain of a refusal, by holding your tongue,—and retiring.”
Guy coloured, and was about to turn away in disgust, but, repressing his indignation by a powerful effort, he advanced with a cheerful countenance, and held out his hand.
“Well, good-bye, uncle. If ever you go to the coast, and happen to see a storm and a shipwreck, you’ll change your mind, I think, in regard to this matter.”
Mr Denham did go to the coast, and, did see a storm and a shipwreck, but whether this prediction ever came true is a point that shall not be revealed at this part of our narrative.
Chapter Two.
In Which more Important Personages are Introduced, and Display their Characters by their Actions More or Less.
The “Three Jolly Tars” was one of those low taverns where seamen were wont to congregate—not because it was a low tavern, but because there was no other sort of tavern—high or low—in that neighbourhood.
The world (that is to say, the delicately-nurtured and carefully-tended world) is apt to form erroneous opinions in regard to low taverns, and degradation, and sin in general,—arising from partial ignorance and absolute inexperience, which it is important that we should correct in order that the characters of our story may not be falsely judged. God forbid that it should be for a moment supposed that we have a word to say in favour of low taverns. Our aim just now is, not to consider these, but, to convince the reader, if possible, that every man who enters one of them is not necessarily a lost or utterly depraved creature.