I told her the whole history of my acquaintance with Eugenia, of my last interview, and of her mysterious departure.  I did not even omit the circumstance of her offering me money; but I concealed the probability of her being a mother.  I assured her that it was full four years and a half since we had met; and that as she knew of my engagement, it was unlikely we should ever meet again.  “At any rate,” I said, “I shall never seek her; and if accident should throw me in her way, I trust I shall behave like a man of honour.”

I did not think it necessary to inform her of the musket-shots fired at me by order of Talbot, as that might have injured him in the estimation of both Emily and Clara.  When I had concluded my narrative, Emily sighed and looked very grave.  I asked her if she had forgiven me.

“Conditionally,” said she, “as you said to the mutineers.”

Chapter XXIII

In all states of Europe, there are a set of men who assume from their infancy a pre-eminence independent of their moral character.  The attention paid to them from the moment of their birth, gives them the idea that they are formed for command, and they soon learn to consider themselves a distinct species:  and, being secure of a certain rank and station, take no pains to makes themselves worthy of it.—­RAYNAL.

It is now time to make my reader acquainted with my new ship and new captain.  The first was a frigate of the largest class, built on purpose to cope with the large double-banked frigates of the Yankees.  She carried thirty long twenty-four pounders on her main deck, and the same number of forty-two pound carronades on her quarter-gangways and forecastle.

I had been a week on board, doing duty during the day and flirting on shore, at Mr Somerville’s, at Blackheath, during the evening.  I had seen no captain yet, and the first lieutenant had gone on shore one morning to stretch his legs.  I was commanding officer; the people were all at their dinner; it was a drizzling soft rain, and I was walking the quarter-deck by myself, when a shore-boat came alongside with a person in plain clothes.  I paid him no attention, supposing him to be a wine merchant, or a slop-seller, come to ask permission to serve the ship.  The stranger looked at the dirty man-ropes, which the side-boys held off to him, and inquired if there was not a clean pair?  The lad replied in the negative; and the stranger perceiving there was no remedy, took hold of the dirty ropes and ascended the side.

Reaching the quarter-deck, he come up to me, and showing a pair of sulphur-coloured gloves, bedaubed with tar and dirt, angrily observed, “By G——­, Sir, I have spoiled a new pair of gloves.”

“I always take my gloves off when I come up the side,” said I.

“But I choose to keep mine on,” said the stranger.  “And why could not I have had a pair of clean ropes?”