riner, "but
you never make any inquiries after Betsy Bluff, among your other old
friends. It's true, the wench has got spliced again, to be sure; but
then, you know, she waited three years, and had the log-books overhauled
first." "Ay, ay, Tom, so they say she did; but I never believed 'em:
howsomedever, that wasn't the worst of it; for having got my will and my
power in her possession, she drew all my pay and prize-money, and when
at last I got home from an enemy's keeping, I had not a shot left in the
locker to keep myself. But the mischief did not end even there, for she
disgraced me, ~187~~and the British flag, by marrying a half-starved
tailor, and setting him up in the Sally port with the money that I had
been fighting the enemies of my country for. May I never get groggy
again, if I couldn't have forgiven her freely if she'd taken some
honest-hearted fellow, like yourself, in tow, who had got disabled in
the service, or consorted with a true man of war's man, all right and
tight; but to go and lash herself alongside of such a crazy land lubber
as this ninth degree of manhood--may I never taste 'bacca again if
Bet's conduct is bearable! She's no wife of mine, Tom; and when I go to
pieces, a wreck in this world, may I be bolted into old Belzy's caboose
if she shall be a copper fastening the better for Jem Buntline!" During
the recital of this story the countenance of the old tar assumed a fiery
glow of honest indignation, and when he had finished the tale, his fore
lights gave evident signs that his heart had been long beating about
in stormy restlessness at the remembrance of his wife's unfaithfulness.
"Cheer up, messmate," said Tom; "I see how the land lies. Come, fill
your pipe, and I'll sing you the old stave I used to chant on Saturday
nights, when we messed together on board the Leander.

A man's like a ship on the ocean of life,
The sport both of fair and foul weather,
Where storms of misfortune, and quicksands of strife,
And clouds of adversity gather.
If he steers by the compass of honour, he'll find,
No matter what latitude meets him,
A welcome in every port to his mind,
And a friend ever ready to greet him.
If love takes the helm in an amorous gale,
Of the rocks of deception beware,
Steer fairly for port, and let reason prevail,
And you're thus sure to conquer the fair.
For