learn, not having even got over the midshipman’s trick of keeping his hands in his pockets; and Mr. Pottyfar had replied that it was very well for him as chaplain to insult others, knowing that his cassock protected him. This was a bitter reply to Mr. Hawkins, who at the very time that the insinuation made his blood boil, was also reminded that his profession forbade a retort: he rushed into his cabin, poor fellow, having no other method left, vented his indignation in tears, and then consoled himself by degrees with prayer. In the meantime, Mr. Pottyfar had gone on deck, wroth with Hawkins and his messmates, as well as displeased with himself. He was, indeed, in a humour to be pleased with nobody, and in a most unfortunate humour to be asked leave by a midshipman. Nevertheless, Jack politely took off his hat, and requested leave to go on shore and see his friend the governor. Upon which Mr. Pottyfar turned round to him, with his feet spread wide open, and thrusting his hands to the very bottom of his pockets, as if in determination, said, “Mr. Easy, you know the state of the ship; we have everything to do—new masts—new rigging—everything almost to refit, and yet you ask to go on shore! Now, sir, you may take this answer for yourself and all the other midshipmen in the ship, that not one soul of you puts his foot on shore until we are all a-taunto.”

“Allow me to observe, sir,” said our hero, “that it is very true that all our services may be required when the duty commences, but this being Saturday night, and to-morrow Sunday, the frigate will not be even moved till Monday morning; and as the work cannot begin before that, I trust you will permit leave until that time.”

“My opinion is different, sir,” replied the first-lieutenant.

“Perhaps, sir, you will allow me to argue the point,” replied Jack.

“No, sir, I never allow argument; walk over to the other side of the deck, if you please.”

“Oh certainly, sir,” said Jack, “if you wish it.”

Jack’s first idea was to go on shore without leave, but from this he was persuaded by Gascoigne, who told him that it would displease Captain Wilson, and that old Tom, the governor, would not receive him. Jack agreed to this, and then, after a flourish about the rights of man, tyranny, oppression, and so forth, he walked forward to the forecastle, where he found his friend Mesty, who had heard all that had passed, and who insidiously said to him in a low tone,—

“Why you stay at sea, Massa Easy?”

“Why, indeed,” thought Jack, boiling with indignation, “to be cooped up here at the will of another? I am a fool—Mesty is right—I’ll ask for my discharge to-morrow.” Jack went down below, and told Gascoigne what he had determined to do.

“You’ll do no such thing, Jack,” replied Gascoigne: “depend upon it, you’ll have plenty of leave in a day or two. Pottyfar was in a pet with the chaplain, who was too much for him. Captain Wilson will be on board by nine o’clock.”

Nevertheless, Jack walked his first watch in the “magnificents,” as all middies do when they cannot go on shore, and turned in at twelve o’clock, with the resolution of sticking to his purpose, and quitting his majesty’s service; in fact, of presenting his majesty with his between two and three years’ time, served as midshipman, all free, gratis, and for nothing, except his provisions and his pay, which some captains are bold enough to assert that they not only are not worth, but not even the salt that accompanies it; forgetting that they were once midshipmen themselves, and at the period were, of course, of about the same value.

The next morning Captain Wilson came off; the ship’s company were mustered, the service read by Mr. Hawkins, and Jack, as soon as all the official duties were over, was about to go up to the captain, when the captain said to him,—