Jacob Faithful. Фредерик Марриет

moon is up, round beauty’s shine,

       Love’s pilgrims bend at vesper hour,

       Earth breathes to heaven, and looks divine,

       And lovers’ hearts confess her power.”

      Old Tom stopped and the frying-pan frizzled on, sending forth an odour which, if not grateful to Heaven, was peculiarly so to us mortals, hungry with the fresh air.

      “How do we go now, Jacob?”

      “Steady, and all’s right; but we shall be met with the wind next reach, and had better brail up the mainsail.”

      “Go, then, Tom, and help Jacob.”

      “I can’t leave the ingons, (onions) father, not if the lighter tumbled overboard; it would bring more tears in my eyes to spoil them, now that they are frying so merrily, than they did when I was cutting them up. Besides, the liver would be as black as the bends.”

      “Clap the frying-pan down on deck, Tom, and brail the sail up with Jacob, there’s a good boy. You can give it another shake or two afterwards.

      “Guide on, my bark, how sweet to rove,

       With such a beaming eye above!

      “That’s right, my boys, belay all that; now to our stations; Jacob on the look-out, Tom to his frying-pan, and I to the helm—

      “No sound is heard to break the spell,

       Except the water’s gentle swell;

       While midnight, like a mimic day,

       Shines on to guide our moonlight way.

      “Well, the moon’s a beautiful creature—God bless her! How often have we longed for her in the dark winter, channel-cruising, when the waves were flying over the Eddystone, and trying in their malice to put out the light. I don’t wonder at people making songs to the moon, nor at my singing them. We’ll anchor when we get down the next reach.”

      We swept the next reach with the tide which was now slacking fast. Our anchor was dropped and we all went to supper, and to bed. I have been particular in describing the first day of my being on board with my new shipmates, as it may be taken as a sample of our every day life; Tom and his father fighting and making friends, cooking, singing, and spinning yarns. Still, I shall have more scenes to describe. Our voyage was made, we took in a return cargo, and arrived at the proprietor’s wharf, when I found that I could not proceed with them the next voyage, as the trial of Fleming and Marables was expected to come on in a few days. The lighter, therefore, took in another cargo, and sailed without me; Mr. Drummond, as usual, giving me the run of his house.