This short dialogue had scarcely been brought to a conclusion, when I heard some one in a raised tone of voice, as if at a distance from the cutter, ask if Lord R, or P, or I, was up, but being answered in the negative, the same person inquired what all the flags were flying for; and being told that it was R's birthday, all further interrogation ceased. It was the American Minister, who had rowed off to the yacht, to repeat his invitation. At 12 o'clock, the conviviality of the crew commenced; and as I sat down with R and P, near the binnacle, toast after toast could be heard unanimously proposed, and more unanimously drank. As the afternoon began to decline, their jollity began to rise, and ere the sun had set, the grog had risen high in their heads.
"Here's to the Governor!" I could distinguish from a multitude of noises, which issued upwards from the forecastle; and then snatches of such Bacchanalian songs as,
"He's a jolly good fellow,
He's a jolly good fellow,"
interrupted the calm serenity of the coming evening.
"Now then, 'order,' my lads," I heard D. shout aloud, "and let's drink the Governor's health, and long life to him!"
"Hurrah!" replied eight or ten voices;—"Hurrah!"
"Where's Jacko?" was then the cry; "where is he? out with the young lubber, George—give him a glass."
"Ay, give him a glass;" echoed in answer.
"Time, my sons, time," shouted D., "attend to time. One—two—three; hip! hip! hip! hurra!—hurra!—hurra!—nine times nine, my sons; hip!"—and his voice was drowned in a perfect uproar. The next thing I heard was that Jacko, confused by the din of joviality, had decamped from the middle of the table where they had placed him, and broken his glass. In the midst of all this merriment, we were rowed ashore to keep our engagement with the American Minister; and, on reaching the land, about half a mile off, we could hear the whole yacht's company joining in the chorus, and Jerome's fiddle screaming the accompaniment, of
"True blue for ever."