lo ludibrium_"

That is, human feelings and affairs are a singular compound of the
ludicrous and the lamentable, that I could not avoid giving way to my
mercurial disposition, and congratulating my fellow-voyager on the ease
with which he had recognized his old comrade by his present remaining
half. "Lord help your honour!" said he, "a seaman's weather-gauge is
made for squalls--foul weather or fair--in stays or out of trim--sailing
all right before the wind, or coming up under jury-masts; he's no tar
that cannot make out an old friend at a cable's length, and bring to
without waiting for signals of distress. Shiver my timbers, if I should
not know my old messmate here while there's a timber rib left in his
hulk, or a shoulder-boom to hang a blue jacket on. But, my toplights,
Tom!" continued he, "where's all the girls, and the tiddlers, and the
Jews, and bumboat-women that used to crowd all sail to pick up a spare
hand ashore? Not a shark have I seen in the harbour, and all the old
grog-shops with their foul-weather battens up and colours half-mast."
"All in mourning for Mr. Nap, shipmate," said Tom; "we've had no fun
here since they cooped him up on board the Bellerophon, and stowed
him away at St. Helena. All the Jews have cut and run, and all the
bumboat-women retired upon their fortunes; the poor landlords are
most of them in the bilboes at Winchester: and as for a pretty
girl--whew!--not such an article to be had at Point now, either for
love or money: and all this comes of the peace--shiver my odd forelight!
mate, if it lasts much longer, it will be the ruin of the navy.

~185~~~How I long to hear the sound of the boatswain's whistle once
more! 'Up hammocks, boys--clear the decks, and prepare for action!
'that's the way to live and be merry; then the music of a good broadside
pouring into an enemy's under-works, and cutting her slap in two between
wind and water--that's glory, my christian! May I never taste grog
again, if we are not all ruined by the peace. There's only one fighting
fellow left of the old stock of commanders, and they have turned him
out of the navy lest he should infect the psalm-singers. Look out a-head
there, shipmate; d'ye see that fine frigate, the Peranga, now lying oft'
Spithead, and can you ever forget Basque Roads and the gallant Cochrane?
I just got a glimpse of his figure head t'other morning, coming up
Point here; so I hauled to and threw my shattered hulk slap across his
headway, lo