"Mary still clung to William's arm. 'Good-by, Jack,' said he, with the salt water rolling in his eyes, and his heart ready to burst—'and when you return from the voyage, see that you keep the land-sharks off my poor Mary, for the sake of your old messmate.'
"'Belay, Bill!' cried Jenkins; 'my heart's afloat. Heaven bless you, lad, and be at ease respecting Polly. Should any lubber pull alongside, my name's not Jenkins if I don force him to strike his colours, and shove off with broken timbers. Good-by, Bill—give me your hand; and though they were my last words, I say—I'm blowed if ever I shook the flipper of a better fellow!'
"'Mary!' sobbed he, pressing her to his heart; 'farewell, love!—we shall meet again!—you won't forget Bill Stanley!'
"'Stay! oh, stay!' she exclaimed. But the boatswain waved his hand impatiently, and his crew rudely tearing them asunder, William Stanley was dragged to the boat, and borne on board the frigate.
"Well, twelve months passed, after the impressment of William Stanley, and Squire Wates found that his wealth offered no temptation to Mary Danvers, to enable him to effect her ruin. He, however, had inveigled her father into his meshes; and, through the pretended failure of the mercantile speculation in which Villars and old Danvers had been engaged, the former brought a claim of five hundred pounds against the latter, who had lost his all. And the plan of the villains was, that Villars should cast the old man into prison, and that Wates should come forward, and professing to pay the debt, set the father at liberty, and obtain, through the daughter's gratitude, what her virtue spurned. To ensure success to this master-stroke of their wickedness, it was to be attended by a mock-marriage, in which Boatswain Rigby (the frigate to which he belonged being again lying off Tynemouth), was, for a consideration, to officiate as chaplain.
"It was on the very day that this piece of iniquity was hatched, that Jack Jenkins, having returned—and having learned from his wife, and from Mary Danvers, of some of the attempts that had been made by Squire Wates, during his absence, and since the impressment of his comrade—hurried to the house of the old rascal, with a rope's end in his hand. He found the street door open, and, without knocking, he went to the foot of the stairs, and demanded to see Squire Wates.
"'You can't see him, fellow,' said a portly, pampered man-servant.
"'Can't see him!' roared Jack; 'he shall see me presently, and feel me too. So, come along, Mr. Powdered-pate; shew me where he is, or I'll capsize you head and heels.'
"The old villain, himself, hearing the uproar, came blustering out of a room, crying—'Who are you, fellow? and how dare you, in such a manner, break into my house? What is your business with me?'
"'Vast there with your questions, old leprous-livered knave!' vociferated Jenkins. 'As to who I am, I am a better fellow than ever stood in your shoes; and, as to daring to break into your house, before I leave it, I shall dare to break your head! And as to my business with you, I intend to make you sensible of that too;' and as he uttered the word sensible, he shook the piece of rope in his hand, and continued—'Now, I have answered your questions; answer one to me. Do you remember a lad of the name of Bill Stanley—eh?'