The Letters of Charles Dickens. Vol. 1, 1833-1856 . Чарльз Диккенс

(smiling). No, William! I admire plain speaking, as you know, and so does old England, William, and old England's Queen. But you were saying —

      William. Aye, aye, your honour (scratching his head). I've lost my reckoning. Damme! – I ast pardon – but won't your honour throw a hencoop or any old end of towline to a man as is overboard?

      Admiral (smiling still). You were saying, William, that the wind —

      William (again cocking his leg, and slapping the thighs very hard). Avast heaving, your honour! I see your honour's signal fluttering in the breeze, without a glass. As I was a-saying, your honour, the wind was blowin' from the sou'-west, due sou'-west, your honour, not a pint to larboard nor a pint to starboard; the clouds a-gatherin' in the distance for all the world like Beachy Head in a fog, the sea a-rowling in, in heaps of foam, and making higher than the mainyard arm, the craft a-scuddin' by all taught and under storms'ils for the harbour; not a blessed star a-twinklin' out aloft – aloft, your honour, in the little cherubs' native country – and the spray is flying like the white foam from the Jolly's lips when Poll of Portsea took him for a tailor! (laughs.)

      Admiral (laughing also). You have described it well, William, and I thank you. But who are these?

Enter Supers in calico jackets to look like cloth, some in brown holland petticoat-trousers and big boots, all with very large buckles. Last Super rolls on a cask, and pretends to keep it. Other Supers apply their mugs to the bunghole and drink, previously holding them upside down.

      William (after shaking hands with everybody). Who are these, your honour! Messmates as staunch and true as ever broke biscuit. Ain't you, my lads?

      All. Aye, aye, William. That we are! that we are!

      Admiral (much affected). Oh, England, what wonder that – ! But I will no longer detain you from your sports, my humble friends (Admiral speaks very low, and looks hard at the orchestra, this being the cue for the dance) – from your sports, my humble friends. Farewell!

      All. Hurrah! hurrah! [Exit Admiral.

      Voice behind. Suppose the dance, Mr. Stanfield. Are you all ready? Go then!

      My dear Stanfield, I wish you would come this way and see me in that Palazzo Peschiere! Was ever man so welcome as I would make you! What a truly gentlemanly action it would be to bring Mrs. Stanfield and the baby. And how Kate and her sister would wave pocket-handkerchiefs from the wharf in joyful welcome! Ah, what a glorious proceeding!

      Do you know this place? Of course you do. I won't bore you with anything about it, for I know Forster reads my letters to you; but what a place it is. The views from the hills here, and the immense variety of prospects of the sea, are as striking, I think, as such scenery can be. Above all, the approach to Genoa, by sea from Marseilles, constitutes a picture which you ought to paint, for nobody else can ever do it! William, you made that bridge at Avignon better than it is. Beautiful as it undoubtedly is, you made it fifty times better. And if I were Morrison, or one of that school (bless the dear fellows one and all!), I wouldn't stand it, but would insist on having another picture gratis, to atone for the imposition.