As the time drew near for leaving the dock, the number of favored ones grew less every day, few being bold enough to go aft and face the lieutenant for the purpose of asking leave of absence. However, Thompson who was not afraid of Crushe, determined to try what he could do; and one evening he, with two other seamen, walked aft, stood between two guns on the port side of the quarter-deck, and waited patiently until that gallant officer condescended to notice them. After keeping the men for some time in a pleasant state of expectation, Crushe suddenly seemed aware of their presence, and with a ghastly twist of his visage, which he intended for a grin, asked the sailors "if they wanted four dozen a-piece? if not, they had better go forward." "Please, sir," pleaded one of the men, "may I go on shore?" "What for?" demanded the bully. "My little gal is sick," said the sailor. "Come, my fine fellow, that won't do. Go forward, and tell that to the marines." The man addressed slunk away like a beaten hound. It was true his child was ill, but he was obnoxious to Crushe, so he contented himself with vowing vengeance, and on going forward procured some rank poison in the shape of gin, which he forthwith imbibed, and went to sleep. His little girl died during the night. The poor mother wondered why father did not come home; and it was a bitter grief to her, upon visiting the ship the next morning, to find her husband under punishment for being intoxicated the night before. "Tell him I'm ashamed of him! and little Carrie so bad!" said the indignant woman to the ship's corporal, who had informed her of her husband's disgrace. "Tell him the dear little angel cried for him till she got too weak, and wanted so to see him before she died; and," added the poor creature, in a low, dreamy voice, "he drunk when he ought to have been with her!" Bursting into tears, the desolate mother was led away by a sympathizing spectator, to ponder over what she thought her husband's brutality. When the news was given him by the callous ship's corporal, that "his kid was dead," the man, who was not perfectly sober, smiled and said, "Thank God! she is now better off;" then, crouching down, with his hands tightly pressed to his forehead, wept bitterly. But we must return to the sailors whom we left standing before the lieutenant on the quarter-deck. "What do _you_ want leave for?" demanded Crushe, as Jerry, with his face elongated in a most doleful way, touched his forelock to attract the officer's attention. "Leave to visit my widowed mother, who is werry ill," replied the scamp. As he said this, his visage relaxed for a moment, and in his endeavour to work it back into a solemn cast, he presented such a serio-comic appearance, that the lieutenant laughed outright; and telling the impudent fellow to go on shore and be hanged to him, turned to the other sailor, to whom he granted the same privilege.