“Dear me!” said the lady, “and do I really speak to one of those brave fellows who fought at the battle of the Nile?” and she put her hand into her pocket and pulled out five shillings.  “There,” said she, “I hope you’ll not be affronted, but accept this from me.”

“Not at all, ma’am,” replied Dick, pocketing the money.

Then the whole party made a subscription for him, and Dick went off with a handful of silver.

There was, however, another man who contributed much to the fun created by Dick Harness.  He was an American black, who had served as cook in the “Majestic,” and had been wounded in the battle of the Nile, He had received a bullet in the knee, which had occasioned a stiff joint; and, as his leg was bent, he wore a short wooden stump.  He also could play his fiddle and sing his songs, but in neither case so well as Dick Harness, although he thought otherwise himself.  We used to call him Opposition Bill, but his name was Bill White; at least that was the purser’s name that he went by when on board of a man-of-war.  His pleasure was to follow Dick Harness everywhere; and if Dick sung he would sing, if Dick played he would play also—­not at the same time, but if Dick stopped Bill would strike up.  Dick used to call him his black shadow; and sometimes he would execute a flourish on his fiddle which would be quite a puzzler to Opposition Bill, who would attempt something of the kind, which invariably set every one laughing.  At last Dick Harness’s performances were not considered to be complete if Opposition Bill was not in his company; and, as they were both very good-tempered, funny fellows, they were a great amusement, especially in the fine weather, when they would sit on the benches upon the terrace about six or eight yards apart, for they seldom came nearer, and play and sing alternately.  The songs sung by Dick Harness were chiefly old sea songs; those of Opposition Bill were picked up from every part of the world, principally, however, those sung by the negroes who worked on the plantations in Virginia and Carolina.

Peter Anderson, my father, Ben, and many others were sitting on the benches, basking in the morning’s sun, when Dick Harness made his appearance, limping along with his fiddle under his arm.

“Come along, Dick,” said Ben the Whaler, “we’ll stow close, and make room for you here.”

“You must make elbow-room, too, my hearty, or I shan’t be able to fiddle.  Come, what will you have this fine morning?” said Harness, tuning his instrument.  As soon as it was in tune he flourished a prelude from the top of the scale to the bottom, ending with an “Eh-haw! eh-haw!” in imitation of the braying of a donkey.

“Give us the Spanish Ladies, Dick,” said my father.  As this song was very popular at that time among the seamen, and is now almost forgotten, I shall by inserting it here for a short time rescue it from oblivion.

     “Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish ladies,
     Farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Spain;
       For we have received orders
       For to sail to old England,
     But we hope in a short time to see you again.”