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Updated: June 16, 2025
After all, had I not some little excuse? . . . Here was I, young, lusty, healthful, with a man's career before me, and across it, trenched at my feet, the grave. A saying of Billy Priske's comes into my mind a word spoken, years after, upon a poor fisherman of Constantine parish whose widow, as by will directed, spent half his savings on a tombstone of carved granite.
Sure no second man in England wore Billy Priske's legs! Then, and while I stood amazed, my father's voice and my Uncle Gervase's called to me together: and gulping down all wonder, possessed with love only and a wild joy but yet grasping my fish I splashed across the shallows and up the bank, and let my father take me naked to his heart. "Clivver boy, clivver boy!" said the voice of Billy Priske.
Is that the face that launched a thousand ships and burnt the topless towers of Ilium? O Troy! O Helen! You'll permit me to add, with a glance at our friend Priske's predicament, O Dido! At five shillings per diem I realize the twin ambitions of a life-time and combine the supercargo with the buck. Well, well! cherchez la femme!" "You pronounce it 'share-shay?" inquired Mr. Badcock.
In the Abbey where my Uncle Gervase was forced to withdraw behind a pillar and rub Billy Priske's neck, which by this time had a crick in it my father's voice, as he moved from tomb to tomb, deepened to a regal solemnity. He repeated Beaumont's great lines "Mortality, behold and fear! What a change of flesh is here!"
Billy Priske's eyes had grown round in his head. Mr. Badcock, after sitting in thought for a full minute, observed that the incident was peculiar in many respects. "Is that the end of the yarn?" I asked. "I never met the lady again," confessed Mr. Fett. "As for the story," he added with a sigh, "I am accustomed to have it disbelieved. Yet let me tell you this.
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