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Updated: June 19, 2025
How often have I seen a Frenchman capering, and singing, and grinning, in consequence of his stripping one of our sailors of all his money? while our solemn Jack-Tar was either scratching his head, or trying to whistle, or else walking slowly off, with both hands stuck in his pocket, and looking like John Bull, after concluding a treaty of peace with Louis Baboon.
The surgeon, a remarkably cool and self-possessed individual, went to the consul's house, with a Jack-tar equally cool and self-possessed carrying the basket. "Now then, let's see how smartly we can do it," said the surgeon, on entering Colonel Langley's nursery. "Is your child tractable?" "Very much the reverse," replied the Colonel, with a smile. "Umph! can't be helped.
He was so much better, that he had been persuaded by some messmate to ship for a cruize only a three years' whaling voyage. Regular Jack-tar fashion a frolic one day, a fit the next, and off for the end of the world the third." "He has left Longbridge, has he?" said Mr. Wyllys.
But honest Dick Darvall could not conceal from himself that his main object was Mary Jackson! Somehow it has come to be supposed or assumed that a jack-tar cannot ride. Possibly this may be true of the class as a whole to which Jack belongs, but it is not necessarily true of all, and it certainly is not true of some. Dick Darvall was an expert horseman though a sailor.
"Why, John, you're like the ram of an iron-clad! Is it really yourself? Give us your flipper, my boy!" But the flipper was already in that of Willie Armstrong, while the others crowded round him with congratulations. "Wot on airth's all the noise about in that there corner?" exclaimed a Jack-tar, who was trying hard to tell an interminable story to a quiet shipmate in spite of the din.
"There, lass," cried a broad-shouldered jack-tar, giving the fluke of the anchor a hearty slap with his hand after the housing was completed "there, lass, take a good nap now, for we shan't ask you to kiss the mud again for many a long day to come!" And so it was. That anchor did not "kiss the mud" for many long days afterwards; and when at last it did, it was for the last time!
I turned, and observed that the shout was uttered by a broad rough-looking jack-tar, a man of about two or three and thirty, who had been sitting all the forenoon on an old cask smoking his pipe and basking in the sun. "Hallo!" said he again. "Well," said I.
No one appeared to mind him, till a jolly Jack-tar with both arms cut off, but dressed in full sailor's togs, lurched heavily towards him.
It was getting late, and he left the street just as I saw him. I followed, waiting until we got to a private place before I would speak to him, however, as I knew he would be mortified to be taken for the friend of a Jack-tar, in such a scene. Rupert entered a door, and then reappeared with a letter in his hand. He, too, had gone to the post-office, and I no longer hesitated about joining him.
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