“No, not little— tending to be lusty, as the saying is — that is, in good condition. It’s very strange that Mrs. Oxbelly has an idea that she is not large. I cannot persuade her to it. That’s the reason we always spar in bed. She says it is I, and I know that it is she who takes the largest share of it.”

“Perhaps you may both be right.”

“No, no; it is she who creates all the disturbance. If I get nearer to the wall she jams me up till I am as thin as a thread-paper. If I put her inside and stay outside, she cuts me out as you do a cask, by the chime, till I tumble out of bed.”

“Why don’t you make your bed larger, Mr. Oxbelly?”

“Sir, I have proposed, but my wife will have it that the bed is large enough if I would not toss in my sleep. I can’t convince her. However, she’ll have it all to herself now. I slept well last night, for the first time since I left the Boadicea.”

“The Boadicea?”

“Yes, sir, I was second-lieutenant of the Boadicea for three years.”

“She’s a fine frigate, I’m told.”

“On the contrary, such a pinched-up little craft below I never saw. Why, Mr. Easy, I could hardly get into the door of my cabin— and yet, as you must see, I’m not a large man.”

“Good heavens! is it possible,” thought Jack, “that this man does not really know that he is monstrous?”

Yet such was the case. Mr. Oxbelly had no idea that he was otherwise than in good condition, although he had probably not seen his knees for years. It was his obesity that was the great objection to him, for in every other point there was nothing against him. He had, upon one pretence and another, been shifted, by the manœuvres of the captains, out of different ships, until he went up to the Admiralty to know if there was any charge against him. The first lord at once perceived the charge to be preferred, and made a mark against his name as not fit for anything but harbour duty. Out of employment, he had taken the command of a privateer cutter, when his wife, who was excessively fond, would, as he said, follow him with little Billy. He was sober, steady, knew his duty well; but he weighed twenty-six stone, and his weight had swamped him in the service.

His wish, long indulged, had become, as Shakespeare says, the father of his thought, and he had really at last brought himself to think that he was not by any means what could be considered a fat man. His wife, as he said, was also a very stout woman, and this exuberance of flesh on both sides was the only, but continual, ground of dispute.