nation; so
he got me for prize bo'sun, and took her into Plymouth. Soon after that
the war was ended, and all hands of the Pandora paid off. Master Ned got
passed with flying colors, and confirmed lieutenant besides, but he had
to wait for a ship. He made me say where I'd be found, and we parted
company for about a year.

Well, I was come home from a short trip, and one day Leftenant Collins
hunts me up at Wapping Docks, where I'd had myself spliced, six years
before, to Betsy Brown, an' was laid up for a spell, havin' seen a good
deal of the sea. Ye must know the young leftenant was fell deep in love
with a rich Indy Naboob's daughter, which had come over to take her back
to' the East Indgees. The old fellow was hard close-hauled against the
match, notwithstanding of the young folks makin' it all up; so he'd
taken out berths aboard of a large Company's ship, and bought over the
captain on no account to let any king's navy man within the gangways,
nor not a shoulder with a swab upon it, red or blue, beyond the ship's
company. But, above all, the old tyrant wouldn't have a blue-jacket,
from stem to starn, if so be he'd got nothing ado but talk sweet; I
s'pose he fancied his girl was mad after the whole blessed cloth. The
leftenant turns over this here log to me, and, says he, "I'll follow
her to the world's end, if need be, Bob, and cheat the old villain?"
"Quite right too, sir," says I. "Bob," says he, "I'll tell ye what I
wants you to do. Go you and enter for the Seringpatam at Blackwall, if
you're for sea just now; I'm goin' for to s'cure my passage myself, an'
no doubt doorin' the voy'ge something'll turn up to set all square; at
any rate, I'll stand by for a rope to pull!" "Why here's a go!" thinks I
to myself: "is Ned Collins got so green again, spite of all that's come
an' gone, for to think the waves is agoin' to work wonders, or ould
Neptune under the line's to play the parson and splice all!" "Well,
sir," I says, "but don't you think the skipper will smoke your
weather-roll, sir, at sea, as you did Bill Pikes an' me, you know, sir?"
says I. "Oh, Bob, my lad," says the leftenant, "leave you that to me.
The fellow most onlikest to a sailor on the Indyman's poop will be me,
and that's the way you'll know me!"

Well, I did ship with the Seringpatam for Bombay. Plenty of passengers
she had, but only clerks, naboobs, old half-pay fellows, and ladies, not
to speak o' children and nurses, black and white. She sailed w