Boys -- Juvenile fiction; New England -- Juvenile fiction
We had a merry time of it. The Captain was in great force this evening,
and not only related his famous exploit in the War of 1812, but regaled
the company with a dashing sea-song from Mr. Shakespeare's play of The
Tempest. He had a mellow tenor voice (not Shakespeare, but the Captain),
and rolled out the verse with a will:
“The master, the swabber, the boatswain, and I,
The gunner, and his mate,
Lov'd Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery,
But none of us car'd for Kate.”
“A very good song, and very well sung,” says Sailor Ben; “but some of us
does care for Kate. Is this Mr. Shawkspear a seafarin' man, sir?”
“Not at present,” replied the Captain, with a monstrous twinkle in his
eye.
The clock was striking ten when the party broke up. The Captain walked
to the “Mariner's Home” with his guest, in order to question him
regarding his future movements.
“Well, sir,” said he, “I ain't as young as I was, an' I don't cal'ulate
to go to sea no more. I proposes to drop anchor here, an' hug the
land until the old hulk goes to pieces. I've got two or three thousand
dollars in the locker, an' expects to get on uncommon comfortable
without askin' no odds from the Assylum for Decayed Mariners.”
My grandfather indorsed the plan warmly, and Sailor Ben did drop anchor
in Rivermouth, where he speedily became one of the institutions of the
town.
His first step was to buy a small one-story cottage located at the
head of the wharf, within gun-shot of the Nutter House. To the great
amusement of my grandfather, Sailor Ben painted the cottage a light
sky-blue, and ran a broad black stripe around it just under the eaves.
In this stripe he painted white port-holes, at regular distances, making
his residence look as much like a man-of-war as possible. With a short
flag-staff projecting over the door like a bowsprit, the effect was
quite magical. My description of the exterior of this palatial residence
is complete when I add that the proprietor nailed a horseshoe against
the front door to keep off the witches--a very necessary precaution in
these latitudes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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