Jack lost his money with good humour, and was a very handsome fellow, he was everywhere well received and was made much of: many ladies made love to him, but Jack was only very polite, because he thought more and more of Agnes every day. Three weeks passed away like lightning, and neither Jack nor Gascoigne thought of going back. At last, one fine day, H.M. frigate Aurora anchored in the bay, and Jack and Gascoigne, who were at a party at the Duke of Pentaro’s, met with the captain of the Aurora, who was also invited. The duchess introduced them to Captain Tartar, who, imagining them, from their being in plain clothes, to be young Englishmen of fortune on their travels, was very gracious and condescending. Jack was so pleased with his urbanity that he requested the pleasure of his company to dinner the next day: Captain Tartar accepted the invitation, and they parted, shaking hands, with many expressions of pleasure in having made his acquaintance. Jack’s party was rather large, and the dinner sumptuous. The Sicilian gentlemen did not drink much wine, but Captain Tartar liked his bottle, and although the rest of the company quitted the table to go to a ball given that evening by the Marquesa Novara, Jack was too polite not to sit it out with the captain: Gascoigne closed his chair to Jack’s, who, he was afraid, being a little affected with the wine, would “let the cat out of the bag.”

The captain was amazingly entertaining. Jack told him how happy he should be to see him at Forest Hill, which property the captain discovered to contain six thousand acres of land, and also that Jack was an only son; and Captain Tartar was quite respectful when he found that he was in such very excellent company. The captain of the frigate inquired of Jack what brought him out here, and Jack, whose prudence was departing, told him that he came in his majesty’s ship Harpy. Gascoigne gave Jack a nudge, but it was of no use, for as the wine got into Jack’s brain, so did his notions of equality.

“Oh! Wilson gave you a passage; he’s an old friend of mine.”

“So he is of ours,” replied Jack; “he’s a devilish good sort of a fellow, Wilson.”

“But where have you been since you came out?” inquired Captain Tartar.

“In the Harpy,” replied Jack, “to be sure; I belong to her.”

“You belong to her! in what capacity, may I ask?” inquired Captain Tartar, in a much less respectful and confidential tone.

“Midshipman,” replied Jack; “so is Mr. Gascoigne.”

“Umph! you are on leave then.”

“No, indeed,” replied Jack; “I’ll tell you how it is, my dear fellow.”

“Excuse me for one moment,” replied Captain Tartar, rising up; “I must give some directions to my servant which I forgot.”

Captain Tartar hailed his coxswain out of the window, gave orders just outside of the door, and then returned to the table. In the meantime, Gascoigne, who expected a breeze, had been cautioning Jack, in a low tone, at intervals, when Captain Tartar’s back was turned: but it was useless; the extra quantity of wine had got into Jack’s head, and he cared nothing for Gascoigne’s remonstrance. When the captain resumed his seat at the table, Jack gave him the true narrative of all that had passed, to which his guest paid the greatest attention. Jack wound up his confidence by saying, that in a week or so he should go back to Don Rebiera and propose for Donna Agnes.

“Ah!” exclaimed Captain Tartar, drawing his breath with astonishment, and compressing his lips.

“Tartar, the wine stands with you,” said Jack; “allow me to help you.”

Captain Tartar threw himself back in his chair, and let all the air out of his chest with a sort of whistle, as if he could hardly contain himself.