His ogre-like laugh sounded along the deck, and served as a gong to summon an audience around him, though only a favoured few ventured into his cabin. "I was telling you about my maternal parent, the estimable Mrs Johnson. I was alluding to times before she assumed that appellation, or became my parent. I brought up my history to the period when she became first-lieutenant of the gallant Thunder bomb. She did not remain in that craft long, for the captain, officers, and crew, were turned over to a dashing, slashing, thirty-six gun frigate, the Firegobbler. It is extraordinary what a number of actions that frigate fought, and what other wonders she performed all owing to my mother, I believe you. At last, one day, not far off from the chops of the Channel, a large ship, under Spanish colours, was sighted. The Firegobbler gave chase, and a running fight ensued, during which a shot killed the captain, and of course my mother, who took command, followed up the enemy. "Before the day was over, another Spanish line-of-battle ship hove in sight, and when the two closed each other, they hove-to, and waited for the Firegobbler, which wasn't long in getting into action. Then, I believe you, she did give them a hammering, in such right good earnest, that, before the sun set, they cried _peccavi_, and struck their flags. As I told you, the other day, she brought them both in triumph into Plymouth. Now, by all the rules of the service, she ought to have been promoted, you'll allow; but, by some means or other, the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty found out that she was a woman,--perhaps some jealous fellow peached on her,--and, think of their ingratitude, not only wouldn't they give her a commander's rank, but they superseded her, and would by no manner of means allow her to remain in the ship. To my mind, those big-wigs up in London have no consciences. What encouragement is there for a spirited young woman to go and fight her country's battles? None! that's a fact! Miss Nailor had to go on shore. But she couldn't bear a quiet life; so, slipping on seamen's clothes again, she shipped aboard another frigate, but, of course, she had to go before the mast. That made little difference to her; she loved the sea for itself, and didn't care where she was. For some time she got on very well; but she didn't always remember that she was no longer a first-lieutenant--which was natural, poor thing! Well, one day, when off the coast of America, she quarrelled with the man who was first-lieutenant, and meeting him on shore, she put a pistol into his hand, and told him he must fight her. He was a spirited fellow, and said that he never refused that sort of invitation, and as it was in the chief street of a large city, they had plenty of seconds. Well, they fought, and she had the misfortune to shoot him through the heart. Most men would have died immediately, but he lived long enough to forgive her