"We pipe to dinner at six-bells," said he; "three o'clock, I mean. You will have plain fare and a sailor's welcome; which, you know, is a warm one either to friend or foe."
I accepted his frank invitation with pleasure; and, as it still wanted an hour to dinner-time, he proposed that we should "take a cruise" through the grounds till "the grub" was ready. During the walk, he amused me greatly with his tales of the sea; but I was often obliged to request him to interpret terms which were as unintelligible to me as Hebrew or Sanscrit. He laughed heartily at my ignorance, but did all in his power to enlighten me.
"You have not had the benefit of a sea education, so what can we expect from you? I'll tell you what, my young friend—I would as soon come athwart the hawse of a shark as a lawyer (no offence to you), but, somehow or other, I like the cut of your jib, and think we shall be good friends nevertheless."
"Oh," said I, laughing, alluding to my professional visit, "I am not the lawyer, but the lawyer's avant courier—the pilot-fish, not the shark."
He laughed heartily, and kept bantering me on the sharking propensities of my tribe in such an amusing manner that I could not restrain my mirth. At last, the dinner-bell rang.
"Ah! there's pipe to dinner at last! Come along, youngster; let's see if you can take your grub as well as you can take a joke."
We dined alone; for his only daughter, he told me, had gone to visit a neighbour, and would not return till evening. The dinner was substantial and good; the wines excellent; but, though the old gentleman pressed me much to drink, he was very moderate himself. When the cloth was removed, he said—
"Now I will pipe to grog; if you like to join my mess, do so, unless you prefer your wine."
"Why, if you have no objection," said I, "I will not desert this capital claret; you may have all the grog to yourself."
"Well, tastes differ; of course, as a landsman you prefer wine; but you know the old song says—