aft, shutting his eyes, and pretending not to see or hear it.  His usual phrase was, ‘My man, you’ve got your duty to do, and I’ve got mine.’  And this he repeated fifty times a day; so at last he went by the name of ’Old Duty.’  I think I see him now, walking up and down with his spy-glass under his left arm, and the hand of the other pushed into his breast, as if he were fumbling for a flea.  His hat was always split and worn in the front, from constantly taking it off, instead of touching it, when he came on the quarter-deck; and, as soon as it was too far gone in front to raise the purchase off his head, he used to shift it end for end, bringing the back part in front, and then he would wear it, until, as the Yankees say, it was in ‘taterations altogether,’ and he was forced to bend a new one.

“Now, we had a boy on board, who entered one day when the captain landed at Torquay to dine with a friend.  His name was Jack Jervis:  his father and his whole tribe had been fishermen for as long as could be remembered; and Jack himself had been drafted out of his cradle into a coble; and there he had continued day and night, from one year’s end to another, helping his father to fish—­so, you see, it had become second nature to him; and, after he came on board, his liking for his former calling still remained with him, and he never was so happy as when his line was overboard, or when he was snooding a hook in some corner or another.  He went by the name of Jack the Fisherman; and a smart, active, willing lad he was, sure enough.

“Now, there was a little difficulty between Old Duty and Jack the Fisherman.  Old Duty would not allow the lines to be overboard when the ship was in harbor; as he said it was untidy in appearance, and that there was always plenty of work, and no time for fishing.  So Jack hadn’t pulled up his line ten or a dozen times before he was pulled up himself.  ‘Whose line’s that?’ says Old Duty.  ‘Mine, sir,’ says Jack, touching his hat.  ‘I don’t allow fishing, young man,’ said the first lieutenant.  ’You understand me?—­I don’t allow fishing.  You’ve your duty to do, sir, and I’ve got mine.’

“Jack, who had only been two or three days on board, and who, I believe, would never have entered, had he known that there would have been such a ‘weto,’ as the boatswain used to call it, looked quite astonished, and said—­

“‘What, mayn’t I fish, sir?’

“’No, my man, you must not fish without permission; and that I never give in harbor.  If I catch you fishing again, you get two dozen at the gun, recollect that.  You’ve got your duty to do, and I’ve got mine.’

“Well, Jack could not give up his habit, so he used to fish at night, and all night long, out of the fore-chains; but it so happened that the ship’s corporal caught Jack in the middle watch, and reports him to the first lieutenant.

“‘So, you’ve been fishing again, sir,’ says Old Duty.  ‘No, sir,’ replied Jack, ‘not fishing—­only laying night lines.’