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Marryat, Frederick, 1792-1848

"Or, The Naval Officer"

" I admired her heroism, gave her one
kiss, handed her into her carriage, and we shook hands. I need not say
I saw a tear or two in her eyes. Mr Somerville saw the shower coming
on, pulled up the glass, gave me a friendly nod, and the carriage
drove off. The last I saw of Emily, at that time, was her right hand,
which carried her handkerchief to her eyes.
After the dear inmates were gone, I turned from the door of the house
in disgust, and ran direct to my boat, like a dog with a tin-kettle.
When I got on board, I hated the sight of every body, and the smell
of every thing; pitch, paint, bilge-water, tar and rum, entering into
horrible combination, had conspired against me: and I was as sick and
as miserable as the most love-sick seaman can conceive. I have before
observed that we had arrived at Spithead, and as I have nothing new to
say of that place, I shall proceed to sea.
We sailed for the North American station, the pleasantest I could go
to when away from Emily. Our passage was tedious, and we were put on
short allowance of water. Those only who have known it will understand
it. All felt it but the captain; who, claiming privilege, took a dozen
gallons every day to bathe his feet in, and that water, when done
with, was greedily sought for by the men. There was some murmuring
about it, which came to the captain's ears, who only observed, with an
apathy peculiar to Almack's,
"Well, you know, if a man has no privilege, what's the use of being a
captain?"
"Very true, my lord," said the toad-eater, with a low bow.


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