"Very right for you so to do, Peter: never forget your friends in a hurry; you'll not find too many of them as you trot along the highway of life." "I wonder whether he is dead?" "Why, that's a question I cannot answer: a bullet through the chest don't lengthen a man's days, that's certain; but this I know, that he'll not die if he can help it, now that he's got the captain's jacket on." "Yes; he always aspired to be a gentleman--which was absurd enough in a boatswain." "Not at all absurd, Peter, but very absurd of you to talk without thinking: when did any one of his shipmates ever know Mr Chucks to do an unhandsome or mean action? Never--and why? because he aspired to be a gentleman, and that feeling kept him above it. Vanity's a confounded donkey, very apt to put his head between his legs, and chuck us over; but pride's a fine horse, who will carry us over the ground, and enable us to distance our fellow-travellers. Mr Chucks had pride, and that's always commendable, even in a boatswain. How often have you read of people rising from nothing, and becoming great men? This was from talent, sure enough: but it was talent with pride to force it onward, not talent with vanity to cheek it." "You are very right, O'Brien; I spoke foolishly." "Never mind, Peter, nobody heard you but me, so it's of no consequence. Don't you dine in the cabin to-day?" "Yes." "So do I. The captain is in a most marvellous humour this morning. He told me one or two yarns that quite staggered my politeness and my respect for him on the quarter-deck. What a pity it is that a man should have gained such a bad habit!" "He's quite incurable, I'm afraid," replied I; "but, certainly, his fibs do no harm; they are what they call white lies: I do not think he would really tell a lie, that is, a lie which would be considered to disgrace a gentleman." "Peter, _all_ lies disgrace a gentleman, white or black; although I grant there is a difference. To say the least of it, it is a dangerous habit, for white lies are but the gentlemen ushers to black ones. I know but of one point on which a lie is excusable, and that is, when you wish to deceive the enemy. Then your duty to your country warrants your lying till you're black in the face; and, for the very reason that it goes against your grain, it becomes, as if were, a sort of virtue." "What was the difference between the marine officer and Mr Phillott that occurred this morning?" "Nothing at all in itself--the marine officer is a bit of a gaby, and takes offence where none is meant. Mr Phillott has a foul tongue, but he has a good heart." "What a pity it is!"