"Anan!" said the Serjeant, not comprehending the question; "beg pardon, sir, what is your pleasure?" "Why," said the choleric commodore--"what know ye of Lennox, you numbscull, the marine who is left sick on board of the Midge--where and when did you pick him up?" "Oh, beg pardon," said the man--"why, Sir Oliver, he enlisted at the depot at Portsmouth about twelve months ago. He had come round in some Scotch steam-boat, and he was then one of the handsomest-looking young chaps I ever se'ed, Sir Oliver; but he seemed always to feel as if the country was too hot to hold him, for he volunteered three times for rather badish frigates, before we were drafted for Gazelle, when you commissioned her. In the small affairs we have had under your honour's eye he has always, when in health, been a most desperate fellow. He seemed to value his life no more as a quid of tobacco--lately he has become a leetle more circumspect, but he is terribly fallen off in bodily health, sir." "How came he to be made corporal so soon after joining?" said I. "Easy, sir. He came under my hands at drill; but I found the first day, that the poor fellow, Scotchman though he was, knowed more of his trade than I did myself, sir--and as I hope I never bears malice nor envy against nobody, I could not help advertising Lieutenant Howlett, that as he wanted a corporal no man was more fitterer for that same than Lennox, and so he made him corporal; and if your honour wants any penmanship done, now since your clerk is laid up, ne'er a man in the ship, always barring my superiors," here he again touched his cap, "can write running hand like Jack, poor fellow,--and as to spelling--oh my eye." "Well--well," said Sir Oliver--"but what is his general character?" "The steadiest man in the ship, _when on duty_, Sir Oliver--marine or able. He never missed muster in his life. I never saw him drunk or dirty--the only fault I ever had to him is, that sometimes when the men should have been airing themselves in their best on a Sunday forenoon, he has been known to keep them below until eight bells were fine run--extorting them out of the Bible, Sir Oliver." "Nothing more?" said Sprawl. "Yes, he sometimes gives all his grog to his messmates for a week at a time, whereby Bill Swig once caught it at the gangway, your honour--and he does gammon in some foreign tongues, now and then, as if he really and truly had at one time or another been somebody, Sir Oliver." "You say he is a good steady man _on duty_, Lorimer," quoth Sir Oliver--"what may there be peculiar about him, _when below_?" The Serjeant smiled, and fidgetted about, but seeing his captain waited for him to speak--"Oh, I don't know, Sir Oliver, but he has a many vagaries, and dreams dreams, Sir Oliver--and fancies he sees sights--and speaks the damnedest nonsense--beg pardon, Sir Oliver--in his sleep." The commodore laughed, and touched his forehead knowingly with his forefinger.