In the meantime, loss of blood, vexation,
and want of food, contributed, with the noisome stench of the place, to
throw me into a swoon, out of which I was recovered by a tweak of the
nose, administered by the tar who stood sentinel over us, who at the
same time regaled me with a draught of flip, and comforted me with the
hopes of being put on board of the Thunder next day, where I should be
freed of my handcuffs, and cured of my wounds by the doctor. I no sooner
heard him name the Thunder, than I asked if he had belonged to that ship
long; and be giving me to understand he had belonged to her five years,
I inquired if he knew Lieutenant Bowling? "Know Lieutenant Bowling!"
said he, "Odds my life! and that I do; and a good seaman he is as
ever stepped upon forecastle, and a brave fellow as ever cracked
biscuit--none of your Guinea pigs, nor your fresh water, wish-washy,
fair-weather fowls. Many a taugt gale of wind have honest Tom Bowling
and I weathered together. Here's his health, with all my heart: wherever
he is, a-loft, or a-low, the lieutenant needs not be ashamed to show
himself." I was so much affected with this eulogium, that I could not
refrain from telling him that I was Lieutenant Bowling's kinsman; in
consequence of which connection, he expressed his inclination to
serve me, and when he was relieved, brought some cold boiled beef in
a platter, and biscuit, on which we supped plentifully, and afterwards
drank another can of flip together. While we were thus engaged, he
recounted a great many exploits of my uncle, who, I found, was very much
beloved by the ship's company, and pitied for the misfortune that had
happened to him in Hispaniola, which I was very glad to be informed
was not so great as I imagined; for Captain Oakum had recovered of
his wounds, and actually at that time commanded the ship. Having by
accident, in my pocket, my uncle's letter, written from Port Louis, I
gave it my benefactor (whose name was Jack Rattlin) for his perusal; but
honest Jack told me frankly he could not read, and desired to know the
contents, which I immediately communicated. When he heard that part of
it in which he says he had written to his landlord in Deal, he cried,
"Body o' me! that was old Ben Block; he was dead before the letter came
to hand. Ey, ey, had Ben been alive, Lieutenant Bowling would have had
no occasion to skulk so long. Honest Ben was the first man that taught
him to hand, reef, and steer. Well, well, we