ket-boat, look sharp that the men don't suck the monkey. Three of
them came off drunk this morning. And inform Mr. Rat and Mr. Mouse that
if I see their heels on the cutter's cushions again, I'll take a better
look at them from the main-top-mast cross-trees. You understand, sir?
Steward, a glass of wine for Mr. Beaver!" Saying this, the executive
officer, with Harry Darcantel, arose and went on deck to receive the
commodore.

CHAPTER XXXII.

A SPLICE PARTED.

"Oh! for thy voice, that happy voice,
To breathe its loving welcome now!
Fame, wealth, and all that bids rejoice,
To me are vain! For where art thou?"

"What is glory--what is fame?
That a shadow--this a name,
Restless mortal to deceive.
Are they renown'd--can they be great,
Who hurl their fellow-creature's fate,
That mothers, children, wives may grieve?"

The drum rolled, the marines presented arms, the boatswain piped, the
side-boys and officers took off their caps; and as the colors dropped
with the last ray of sunset from the peak, and the broad blue
day-pennant came fluttering down from the lofty main truck, Commodore
Cleveland and his friends stood on the splendid deck of the flag-ship
"Monongahela."

It must have been with conscious pride that the brave and loyal
commander gazed around him on the noble frigate and her gallant crew.
The white decks, the tiers of cannon polished like varnished leather,
with the breechings and tackles laid fair and even over and around them;
the bright belaying-pins, holding their never-ending coils of running
gear--the burnished brass capstan--the great boom--board to the boats
amidships with a gleaming star of cutlasses, reflecting a glitter on the
ring of long pikes stuck around the main-mast near, all inclosed by the
high and solid bulwarks; while towering above, like mighty leafless
columns of forest pines, stood the lofty masts, running up almost out of
sight to the trucks in the fading light, supported by stays and shrouds,
singly and in pairs, and braided mazes--black, and straight, and
taut--never a thread loose on rigging or ratlin--and spreading out as
they came down in a heavy hempen net, till they disappeared over the
rail, and were clenched and spliced, or seized and clamped to the bolts
and dead-eyes of the chain-plates outside. Holding up too, in
mid-heaven, on those giant trunks--like a child its toys--the great
square yards of timber branches,