“Yes, going to see Portsmouth,” said I, quietly, “if I keep my eyes open.”
“Ho! ho! sharp as a needle I see,” observed the big man.
“Sharpness runs in the family,” I replied. We were well up to this sort of repartee among each other at home.
“Your name is Sharp, I suppose,” said my friend.
“No, only my nature, like a currant or a sour gooseberry,” I replied, not able to help laughing myself.
“Take care, youngster, you don’t get wounded with your own weapon,” said the big man.
“Thank you,” I answered, “but I am not a tailor.”
“No—ho, ho, ho,—perhaps not; but you are little more than the ninth part of a man,” said the giant.
“The ninth part of you, you mean; but I am half as big as most men now, and hope to be a whole man some day, and a captain into the bargain.”
“Then I take it you are that important character, a new fledged midshipman,” observed my huge companion.