After canvassing the matter thoroughly with several old quarter-
masters and other dignified sea-fencibles, Jack, hat in hand,
made his appearance, one fine evening, at the mast, and, waiting
till Captain Claret drew nigh, bowed, and addressed him in his
own off-hand, polished, and poetical style. In his intercourse
with the quarter-deck, he always presumed upon his being such a
universal favourite.

"Sir, this Rio is a charming harbour, and we poor mariners--your
trusty sea-warriors, valiant Captain! who, with _you_ at their
head, would board the Rock of Gibraltar itself, and carry it by
storm--we poor fellows, valiant Captain! have gazed round upon
this ravishing landscape till we can gaze no more. Will Captain
Claret vouchsafe one day's liberty, and so assure himself of
eternal felicity, since, in our flowing cups, he will be ever
after freshly remembered?"

As Jack thus rounded off with a snatch from Shakspeare, he
saluted the Captain with a gallant flourish of his tarpaulin, and
then, bringing the rim to his mouth, with his head bowed, and his
body thrown into a fine negligent attitude, stood a picture of
eloquent but passive appeal. He seemed to say, Magnanimous
Captain Claret, we fine fellows, and hearts of oak, throw
ourselves upon your unparalleled goodness.

"And what do you want to go ashore for?" asked the Captain,
evasively, and trying to conceal his admiration of Jack by
affecting some haughtiness.

"Ah! sir," sighed Jack, "why do the thirsty camels of the desert