“I was with him,” exclaimed an old pensioner, “off Scamperdown, when Duncan fought the Dutch fleet, and we engaged and took the Worser-never; and after she struck, we stood on and attacked the Fry-hard, that carried ould Winter’s flag,--blue at the main. It was just arter the mutiny too, and some of our hands went from the bilboes to their guns. But Captain E---- knew the stuff a blue jacket was made on, and was glad of the opportunity of rubbing off old scores with the gunner’s sponge.” “Talking about smuggling,” said Bill Jennings, “puts me in mind of the way we used to get dollars off at Boney’s Airs,[3] when I was in the Mutine sloop of war along with Captain Fabian, and we had three fine Deal-built boats that ’ud walk along like race-horses. Well, all the boats’ crews had belts round their waists with pockets to ’em, each just big enough to hold a roll of fifty dollars; so that every man could carry three hundred,--and a tolerably good cargo, too, considering he had to walk as steady as a pump-bolt on shore for fear of the custom-house officers, and to stretch out pretty smartly at his oar when he got into the boat--supposing the wind warn’t fair. Well, one day says the marchant to our coxswain, as we was standing in his store,--says he, ‘My lad, do you see this here cask?’ which was rather a foolish question to be sure, seeing it was a half-hogshead, such as the small craft had their rum in, and he might have been sartin that Tom Crampton had twigged it. Howsomever, the marchant says to him, ‘My lad,’ says he, ‘do you see this here cask?’ Now it puzzled Tom to think what tack he was standing on, for the licker-bottles were all filled chock-a-block on the side-board, and ‘Mayhap,’ says Tom to himself whilst he scratched his head, ‘mayhap, his honour’s not never a going to gie me it all?’ Howsomever, says the marchant, says he, ‘My lad, do you see this here cask?’ Tom looked at the half-hogshead and then at the marchant, and then at the rum-bottle, as much as to say he was working a traverse to find the latitude and the longitude of the thing; and then he scratched his head, and took a severe turn with his quid, and ‘My lad, do you see this here cask?’ axed the marchant. ‘I do, your honour,’ says Tom; ‘and I’ll take my oath on it, if your honour wishes.’--‘No, no,’ says the marchant, ‘your word’s enough. So bring up your boat’s crew, and get ’em aboard as quick as you can.’ [3] Buenos Ayres.