There are five or six
mates. Young Dodd has been first mate some time, so I suppose he will
soon be a captain."
"Uncle!"
"Well."
"Will this--mate--swear?"
"Clearly."
"There, now. I do not like swearing on a Sunday. That wicked old
admiral used to make me shudder."
"Oh," said Mr. Fountain, playing upon innocence, "he swore by the
Supreme Being, 'I bet sixpence.'"
"Yes," said Lucy, in a low, soft voice of angelic regret.
"Ah! he was in the Royal Navy. But this is a merchantman; you don't
think he will presume to break into the monopoly of the superior
branch. He will only swear by the wind and weather. Thunder and
squalls! Donner and blitzen! Handspikes and halyards! these are the
innocent execrations of the merchant service--he! he! ho!"
"Uncle, can you be serious?" asked Lucy, somewhat coldly; "if so, be
so good as to tell me, is this gentleman--a--gentleman?"
"Well," replied the other, coolly, "he is what I call a nondescript;
like an attorney, or a surgeon, or a civil engineer, or a banker, or a
stock-broker, and all that sort of people. He can be a gentleman if he
is thoroughly bent on it; you would in his place, and so should I; but
these skippers don't turn their mind that way. Old families don't go
into the merchant service. Indeed, it would not answer. There they
rise by--by--mere maritime considerations."
"Then, uncle," began Lucy, with dignified severity, "permit me to say
that, in inviting a nondescript, you showed--less consideration for me
than--you--are in the habit--of doing, dearest.
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