been more out of their elements than tall and ungainly Reuben Gubbins on
the deck of his Majesty's ship _Eos_. I do not know how it was, for I
am sure that I ought to have despised him for his unmanly and incessant
weeping,--I knew that he had offended the laws of his country,--yet,
when the great lout went forward disconsolately, and sat himself down,
amidst the derision of the seamen, upon a gun-carriage on the
forecastle, I could not help going and dispersing the scoffers, and felt
annoyingly inclined to take his toil-embrowned hand, sit down beside,
and cry with him. However, I did not so far commit myself. But a few
hours afterwards I was totally overcome.

Strict orders were given not to allow Gubbins to communicate with anyone
from the shore. A little before dusk, there was a boat ordered by the
sentinels to keep off, that contained, besides the sculler, a
respectable-looking old man, and a tall, stout, and rather handsome
young woman. Directly they caught the eye of Reuben, he exclaimed,
"Woundikins! if there bean't feyther and our sister Moll." And running
aft, and putting his hat between his knees, he thus addressed the
officer of the watch, "Please, Mr Officer, zur, there's feyther and our
Moll."

"Well!"

"Zur, mayn't I go and have my cry out with 'em, for certain I ha'
behaved mortal bad?"

"Against orders."

"But, sure-ly, you'll let him come up to comfort loike his undutiful
son."

"No, no; impossible."

"Whoy, lookee there, zur,--that's feyther with the white hair, and
that's sister crying like mad. Ye can no' ha' the hard heart."

"Silence! and go forward."

I looked over the side, and there I saw the old man standing up
reverently, with his hat in one hand, and a bag, apparently full of
money in the other. Undoubtedly, the simple yeoman had supposed that
money could either corrupt the captain, or buy off the servitude of his
guilty son. It was a fine old countenance, down the sides of which that
silver hair hung so patriarchally and gracefully; and there that poor
old man stood, bowing in his wretchedness and his bereavement, with his
money extended, to every officer that he could catch a glimpse of as his
hat or head appeared above the hammock-nettings or the bulwarks. The
grief of his sister was commonplace and violent; but there was a depth
and a dignity in that of the old man that went to my very heart. I
could not help going up to the lieutenant, and entreating him to grant