gentleman has eaten no small
quantity of _flapdoodle_ in his lifetime."

"What's that, O'Brien?" replied I; "I never heard of it."

"Why, Peter," rejoined he, "it's the stuff they _feed fools on_."

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

A LONG CONVERSATION WITH MR. CHUCKS--THE ADVANTAGES OF HAVING A
PRAYER-BOOK IN YOUR POCKET--WE RUN DOWN THE TRADES--SWINBURNE, THE
QUARTER-MASTER, AND HIS YARNS--THE CAPTAIN FALLS SICK.

The next day the captain came on board with sealed orders, with
directions not to open them until off Ushant. In the afternoon, we
weighed and made sail. It was a fine northerly wind, and the Bay of
Biscay was smooth. We bore up, set all the studding sails, and ran
along at the rate of eleven miles an hour. As I could not appear on the
quarter-deck, I was put down on the sick list. Captain Savage, who was
very particular, asked what was the matter with me. The surgeon
replied, "An inflamed eye." The captain asked no more questions; and I
took care to keep out of his way. I walked in the evening on the
forecastle, when I renewed my intimacy with Mr Chucks, the boatswain,
to whom I gave a full narrative of all my adventures in France. "I have
been ruminating, Mr Simple," said he, "how such a stripling as you
could have gone through so much fatigue, and now I know how it is. It
is _blood_, Mr Simple--all blood--you are descended from good blood;
and there's as much difference between nobility and the lower classes,
as there is between a racer and a cart-horse."

"I cannot agree with you, Mr Chucks. Common people are quite as brave
as those who are well-born. You do not mean to say that you are not
brave--that the seamen on board this ship are not brave?"

"No, no, Mr Simple but as I observed about myself, my mother was a
woman who could not be trusted, and there is no saying who was my
father; and she was a very pretty woman to boot, which levels all
distinctions for the moment. As for the seamen, God knows, I should do
them an injustice if I did not acknowledge that they were as brave as
lions. But there are two kinds of bravery, Mr Simple--the bravery of
the moment, and the courage of bearing up for a long while. Do you
understand me?"

"I think I do; but still do not agree with you. Who will bear more
fatigue than our sailors?"

"Yes, yes, Mr Simple, that is because they are _endured_ to it from
their hard life: but if the common sailors were all such little
thread-papers as you, and had