een the way of his up-bringing, and I felt a sort of a
charge of him like; so one night I had a quiet spell with him in the
watch, an' as soon as I fell to speak kind-ways, there I seed the water
stand i' the boy's eyes. "It's a good thing," says he, tryin' to gulp it
down--"it's a good thing mother don't see all this!" "Ho, ho," says I,
"my lad, 'tis all but another way of bein' sea-sick! You doesn't get the
land cleared out, and snuff the sea blue breeze nat'ral like, all at
once! Hows'ever, my lad," says I, "take my advice--bring your hammock
an' chest into the fok'sle; swap half your fine clothes for blue shirts
and canvas trowsers; turn-to ready and willing, an' do all that's asked
you--you'll soon find the differ 'twixt the men and a few petty officers
an' 'prentices half out their time. The men 'll soon make a sailor of
you: you'll soon see what a seaman is; you'll larn ten times the
knowledge; an', add to that, you'll not be browbeat and looked jealous
on!"

Well, next night, what does he do but follows what I said, and afore
long most of his troubles was over; nor there wasn't a willin'er nor a
readier hand aboard, and every man was glad to put Ned through anything
he'd got to do. The mates began to take note on him; and though the
'prentices never left off callin' him the Green Hand, before we rounded
the Cape he could take his wheel with the best of them, and clear away a
sternsail out of the top in handsome style. We were out ten months, and
Ned Collins stuck to the fork'sle throughout. When we got up the Thames,
he went ashore to see his mother in a check shirt, and canvas trowsers
made out of an old royal, with a tarpaulin hat I built for him myself.
He would have me to come the next day over to the house for a supper;
so, having took a kindness to the young chap, why, I couldn't say nay.
There I finds him in the midst of a lot o' soft-faced chaps and young
ladies, a spinning the wonderfullest yarns about the sea and the East
Ingees, makin' 'em swallow all sorts of horse-marines' nonsense, about
marmaids, sea-sarpents, and sich like. "Hallo, my hearty!" says he, as
soon as he saw me, "heave a-head here and come to an anchor in this here
blessed chair." "Young ladies," says he, "this is Bob Jacobs, as I told
you kissed a marmaid hisself. He's a wonderful hand, is Bob, for the
fair!" You may fancy how flabbergasted I was at this, though the young
scamp was as cool as you please, and wouldn't ha' needed much t