Lieutenant Crushe gave the crew to understand that in future only those men who pleased him would be allowed leave to go on shore, consequently the "liberty list" of H.M.S. Stinger was a short one.

As the time drew near for leaving the dock, the number of favored ones grew less every day, few being bold enough to go aft and face the lieutenant for the purpose of asking leave of absence. However, Thompson who was not afraid of Crushe, determined to try what he could do; and one evening he, with two other seamen, walked aft, stood between two guns on the port side of the quarter-deck, and waited patiently until that gallant officer condescended to notice them. After keeping the men for some time in a pleasant state of expectation, Crushe suddenly seemed aware of their presence, and with a ghastly twist of his visage, which he intended for a grin, asked the sailors "if they wanted four dozen a-piece? if not, they had better go forward."

"Please, sir," pleaded one of the men, "may I go on shore?"

"What for?" demanded the bully.

"My little gal is sick," said the sailor.

"Come, my fine fellow, that won't do. Go forward, and tell that to the marines."

The man addressed slunk away like a beaten hound. It was true his child was ill, but he was obnoxious to Crushe, so he contented himself with vowing vengeance, and on going forward procured some rank poison in the shape of gin, which he forthwith imbibed, and went to sleep. His little girl died during the night. The poor mother wondered why father did not come home; and it was a bitter grief to her, upon visiting the ship the next morning, to find her husband under punishment for being intoxicated the night before.

"Tell him I'm ashamed of him! and little Carrie so bad!" said the indignant woman to the ship's corporal, who had informed her of her husband's disgrace. "Tell him the dear little angel cried for him till she got too weak, and wanted so to see him before she died; and," added the poor creature, in a low, dreamy voice, "he drunk when he ought to have been with her!"

Bursting into tears, the desolate mother was led away by a sympathizing spectator, to ponder over what she thought her husband's brutality.

When the news was given him by the callous ship's corporal, that "his kid was dead," the man, who was not perfectly sober, smiled and said, "Thank God! she is now better off;" then, crouching down, with his hands tightly pressed to his forehead, wept bitterly.

But we must return to the sailors whom we left standing before the lieutenant on the quarter-deck.

"What do you want leave for?" demanded Crushe, as Jerry, with his face elongated in a most doleful way, touched his forelock to attract the officer's attention.

"Leave to visit my widowed mother, who is werry ill," replied the scamp.

As he said this, his visage relaxed for a moment, and in his endeavour to work it back into a solemn cast, he presented such a serio-comic appearance, that the lieutenant laughed outright; and telling the impudent fellow to go on shore and be hanged to him, turned to the other sailor, to whom he granted the same privilege.

Of course the illness of Jerry's mother existed only in his fertile imagination, and he afterwards remarked to the boatswain that he had obtained leave through a pious fraud, which he trusted would not be chalked down agin him up aloft.

Since the night of the memorable tea-party at her sister's, Mary Ann had become the lady's-maid of Mrs. Captain Puffeigh, who was residing with a relative at Portsea, near Portsmouth. Thompson heard the ship was to be sent to the Cape of Good Hope, and determined to say good-bye to his lady-love, who had written to inform him, "the captain and ladies would be absent from home that evening, and if he did not come and see her, she would forever discard him."

After rigging himself in his best suit, he was, with the other sailor, paraded before the first lieutenant, who gave them the comforting assurance that if they were not on board by six o'clock the following morning, they would both be looked upon as deserters, then allowed them to depart, the ship's corporal passing them through the dock gates. Jerry now wished to get rid of his companion, who, on his part seemed determined to stick by him, in spite of hints, and even of the pointed remark "that his absence would not be felt." At last, being somewhat annoyed by the patient way in which his companion took his rebuffs, Thompson suddenly stopped before the door of a private residence, and taking the bell-handle, as if about to ring, told his shipmate "that his mother was in there dangerously ill," and curtly bade him good-night.

When the man was out of sight, Jerry pulled forth a small bag, suspended by a string around his neck, and took from it a black ribbon, which had formerly encircled the slender waist of Mary Ann. He first looked round in order to ascertain if any one was watching him, when, noticing a smartly-dressed girl at an attic window, he waved the belt triumphantly towards her, and then pressed it to his heart. The damsel affected the greatest indignation, though in reality she was highly delighted with his impudent manner, and giving him several scornful and withering glances, intended as "finishers," withdrew behind the curtain, through a hole in which she watched him, wishing all the while "that heaven had made her such a man."

He pulled off his hat, removed a ribbon, bearing in letters of gold the word "Stinger," and tied Mary Ann's gift in its place; or, as he termed it "flew her pennant." This, also, prevented any one knowing the name of his ship, and subsequent events proved the wisdom of the precaution. With a true nautical twist, he jerked the hat upon the back of his head, then blowing a few sounding kisses in the direction of the hidden one, shaped his course for Portsea.

Being on a mission of love, he steered clear of refreshment bars and other allurements, liquid and solid, vowing "not to touch a drop of beer until he received the same from the hands of his own Mary Ann;" but alas! poor human nature,—at the first temptation he gave in.

Upon being so pointedly cut, the sailor who accompanied Jerry on shore left him with the full determination of finding a kindred spirit; but not meeting one, retraced his steps, and, as a matter of course, came full tilt upon his shipmate. Here was a fix for the latter. If he ran, the sailor would give chase; if he put on a bold face and spoke to him, drink he must; he dare not refuse if invited, and he knew he would be asked.

As the men approached, Thompson assumed an appearance of the deepest dejection, winking very hard, as if to keep back the tears, and with his lips trembling and working like those of a person who endeavours to be calm while suffering great agony, he walked slowly until they were face to face.

The sailor not being very sober, was quite taken aback; and speech for the moment failing him, contented himself with grasping his shipmate's hand and gazing profoundly in his face. Hereupon Jerry pulled from his pocket an article, which at first glance might have been taken for a small sail, but was in reality a genuine bandana handkerchief. With this he slowly rubbed his eyes, until his friend became a little more coherent.

"Whatsh the mattersh, Jerry?"

"Mother's gone off the hooks."

"What! dead, d-e-d?" spelt the man, as if to make quite sure.

"Made sail about an hour ago," said Jerry, again burying his face in the bandana.

The sympathetic tar took his friend by the sleeve and led him into the nearest public-house, where, calling for two tankards of half and half, he placed one before his mate, and took the other himself; remarking as he did so, that "as they could not bring the old woman to life again, he'd wish her every happiness and prosperity."

The position was a very trying one for Jerry, the liquor being cool and tempting, but—he had made a vow.

"Did the old woman get under weigh sudden?" said the convivial one.

Fixing his eyes upon his interrogator, and mechanically grasping the tankard, which was thrust into his hand, Jerry, with most dejected countenance and in a whisper, replied,

"Sudden? I rayther think she did. She went off like—" Saying this, he heaved a deep sigh, looked resignedly at the half and half, blew off the froth and gulped it down; then directing his shipmate's attention to a distant part of the bar, he seized the opportunity and made off.

The convivial sailor bawled after him to come back; but finding it a useless proceeding, returned to the bar, and calling together a host of generous spirits, ordered the landlord to supply them with unlimited beer. This was done until the sailor became unruly, when the honest landlord thrashed him severely, emptied his pockets, and kicked him into the street, whence he was conveyed to the station-house, where "he enjoyed his liberty" all night.

It being somewhat late the next morning before the magistrate released him, he was, upon leaving the police-court, arrested as a deserter by the ship's corporal, and when he arrived on board, Lieutenant Crushe informed him "that his grog was stopped for a month, and three pounds sterling would be deducted from his wages, the same to be paid over to the ship's corporal for arresting him." This double-barrelled style of punishment was not much to the man's taste; but knowing it would be useless to say a word in defence, he pulled his forelock and left the quarter-deck, vowing he'd never go ashore agin as long as he belonged to the Stinger.

Jerry soon found out the house where Captain Puffeigh was visiting; but in his uncertainty whether the family were out, he steered clear of the front door, and dived down a lane which ran to the back of the premises. Now, it was a very easy matter to tell the right house by the front, as the name "Portland Villa" was marked upon the gate; but the back doors were provokingly alike, and the poor fellow was sorely puzzled to know at which to knock.

In vain he tried to make out the form of his lady-love at one of the windows. He saw several very pretty girls, who evidently would not have objected to a little flirtation, but he dared not even wink at one of them, fearing Mary Ann might detect him in the act, or subsequently hear of it. It was almost as great a temptation as the half and half; and had it been a closer one, he might have yielded as easily.

Finding an empty barrel near one of the doors, he seated himself on it; and lighting his pipe, waited for the appearance of some one who would give him the information he required. Over the door was clustered a mass of ivy; and as he presently heard a voice which strongly reminded him of his girl's, he kicked off his shoes, and clambering up, soon found himself in a position to ascertain if his conjecture was correct.

Judge his horror and astonishment, when this feat revealed to him Mary Ann—his own Mary Ann—actually kissing a sergeant of the line. The sight nearly took away his breath. He rubbed his eyes, chewed a leaf of ivy to ascertain if he were awake, found from the flavour that he was, looked again, and saw her kiss him a second time (on this occasion the salute was returned by the military man), then with a smothered groan he relaxed his grasp of the ivy, and lowered himself into the lane. For some moments he could hardly credit it was a reality; but the flavour of the ivy lingering upon his proved to him it was not a vision.

"Blame his imperdince: and to think my gal could kiss a soger!" he cried. However—there was no good in lamenting over it, revenge was his next idea: so he walked up and down the lane, now and then stopping to square off at imaginary soldiers, by way of relieving his pent-up rage, until his rival should make his appearance.

After the lapse of a short time, which seemed hours to the irate sailor, the door was cautiously opened, and the military gentleman stepped forth, whistling as he came the well-known air "The girl I left behind me," and swaggering along in the inoffensive manner peculiar to the regular army.

Jerry planted himself before the astonished son of Mars, and fiercely demanded if he considered himself a man. The suddenness of the attack for a moment bewildered the sergeant, who said, by way of reply, "Wot's the matter with you, Jack?" Delivering a tremendous blow under the chin of his opponent, and knocking him clean off his feet, the sailor proceeded to dance around his foe, exclaiming, "That's wot's the matter, my Mormon elder; that's my answer, my cherry garden duke." The soldier quickly got up, and squared off at him, upon which Jerry again sailed into the enemy. Quite a lively encounter ensued, and the combatants being both active and much enraged, the "Regular Army" and the "Royal Navy" made it pretty tropical for each other.

Mary Ann did not look into the lane when she let the sergeant out, but returned to the kitchen, and informed the cook "that it was nearly time her sweetheart arrived." She was about leaving the apartment when her attention was arrested by a noise in the lane. Thinking it might be her admirer, she ran to the back-door, and opened it just in time to see Jerry in the act of flooring the sergeant with a well-directed blow on the nose. Glancing proudly upon her brave but excited lover, and uttering a scream, she rushed into his arms, and endeavoured to clasp him round the neck, but failed to do so, as he waved her off with a gloomy, sorrowful air.

The noise brought out the cook, who seeing her lover, the sergeant, extended on the grass as if dead, rushed to him, knelt by his side, and, like another "Thisbe," endeavoured to re-animate his manly form, declaring all the while that "the sailor was a brute, who ought to be given into the custody of the perlice."

Thompson was keeping Mary Ann at arm's length, his eyes flashing and body quivering with excitement, as he vainly endeavoured to get at his foe, every attempt being thwarted by his girl.

Upon hearing the cook's observations, Mary Ann turned quickly round, and exclaimed,

"Perlice, indeed, Amelia! Why this is my own dear Jerry!"

"Who's that ere soger?" demanded her lover, upon which she made another attempt to clasp him to her heart. Waving her off with a dignified and injured air, he exclaimed,

"Mary Ann, tell me—who is that soger? Tell me, Mary Ann—or I'll kill him!"

With this he again tried to rush at his foe.

"Will you kill him?" screamed the cook, letting fall the sergeant's head, which she was tenderly supporting, and darting towards his opponent. "Will you, you willin?"

"Oh dear! oh dear! what shall I do with these mad folks?" exclaimed the lady's maid. "Jerry, dear, that sergeant is my own brother Alfred; however did you come for to fight him?"

"I'll let you knew, young man," screamed the cook; but her attention was suddenly attracted by the sergeant, who, staggering to his feet, requested some one to inform him where they had buried the sailor he had killed, and upon seeing the latter he was about to rush upon him, when he found himself locked in the arms of his lady-love.

It was some time before the ladies succeeded in making their excited lovers understand matters, and during the first part of the negotiation the men were with difficulty restrained from renewing the combat. As it was, they glowered at each other, over the shoulders of their respective ladies, like infuriated mastiffs.

However, as the facts dawned upon them, their anger gave place to merriment.

"I'm proud to know you, sergeant-major."

"And I'm equally proud to know you, commodore."

And the heroes continued to compliment each other in the most extravagant style for some moments, until their vocabulary of honorary titles became exhausted.

Mary Ann was delighted with her lover's spirit, although after the reconciliation she declared "that Jerry was a horrid fellow to hurt her brother, and vowed she would never permit him to kiss her again." We regret to record she immediately broke her word. We are sorry, but it was so, another proof of the vanity of vows in general, and those of lovers in particular.

The party then adjourned to the servants' hall, where, after a merry time over a cup of tea, Thompson was called upon to entertain the company with imitations of celebrated tragic actors. The hall table was pushed against the wall, and an Indian screen, borrowed from the drawing-room, placed thereon. As if by previous invitation, a number of ladies and gentlemen in the same rank of life as their entertainers, shortly arrived, and the servants' hall at "Portland Villa" was soon densely crowded. Among the visitors of distinction were Mr. Noble, the "young man from the painter's." William, from the grocer's, Mr. Slab, the fishmonger, and several good-looking domestics from the adjoining houses, with their "shadows," the latter being young men of mild and obedient dispositions, who were sometimes allowed to bask in the sunshine of their smiles.

The sergeant, who was by this time quite reconstructed, agreed to act as Jerry's dresser and general assistant during the performance. The house was rummaged for properties, and the heap piled up behind the screen somewhat puzzled Thompson, who dressed and redressed four or five times before he quite made up his mind which selection would become him best.

Every available chair in the house was brought into the hall, and when the supply in that direction failed, some were fetched in from the neighbouring residences by the obedient "shadows."

The band consisted of a violin and flute, assisted by the sergeant, who operated upon a snare drum, which some lunatic had brought from the attic. As the space was limited, the musicians were stowed away behind the screen, much to the annoyance of Thompson, who could hardly turn when dressing, and their din prevented the sergeant hearing his directions.

Precisely as the hall clock struck nine the band was "taken worse." The overture was rather peculiar. First the "shadow" who played the violin called out, "The Red, White, and Blue," and then proceeded to indulge the company with a "spiral agony," which sounded very much like the Old Hundredth played in jerks. After getting well warmed to his work, he was suddenly stopped by a prolonged roll on the drum, put in by the sergeant, who, thinking the air was becoming "thready," came to his assistance. The flutist now essayed "The last Rose of Summer," delivered note by note in a laboured and painful manner. He also was assisted by the military; and when the latter found "he was going it seriously, and didn't mean to stop," he finished him off with a ran-tan-tan upon the drum, which quite electrified the audience, and a hearty round of applause followed.

When the last sound had died away the sergeant unslung the drum, marched from behind the screen, stood at attention, made the orthodox military salute, and spoke as follows:—

"Ladies and gents, a talented gent will oblige this evening with imitations of actors, giving Macready as Macbeth, Kean as Hamlet, and Creswick as Romeo;" then, with another salute, he faced half-round and gravely marched behind the screen. This speech being considered quite enchanting by the lady portion of the audience, several of whom cried "enkÉore," the soldier was prevailed upon to come forward again, which he did in the same automatic manner as before; but being called upon for a third time, he looked over the screen, and said, "Not if I knows it! hold your row," upon which the company quieted down, and awaited the entrance of the hero of the hour.

In order to produce "soft music," Jerry hit upon the novel idea of throwing a blanket over the band, who thus, extinguished, had to feel their way through the intricacies of the well-known minstrel air "Mary Blane." This deadening process was so effectual, that at times the music could not be heard at all, upon which Thompson would call out in a voice quite audible to the spectators, "Come, fiddler; more steam, old man."

Loud was the applause when Macbeth slowly emerged from behind the screen, gliding along as if he ran on wheels. He bowed low, and winking at Mary Ann, proceeded at once to business. His costume defies description, and any one not well posted would have imagined he was personating one of the witches.

The sergeant officiated as ghost, being no less ludicrously got up. Upon his elaborately floured head was tied a tight night-cap, his face was chalked, and his body enveloped in a night-habit, which must have been made for a short, fat woman, as it only reached to his knees, leaving his striped trousers visible, and presenting anything but a spectral appearance. Whenever he blundered, Macbeth prompted him sotto voce, and stage directions, such as—"I say, Stripey, mind your eye, or you'll be off the table," to which the ghost of Banquo would reply, "All right, Jerry, old man; you're werry near the edge yourself," were received by the audience as comic interludes, and as such brought down the house.

In the second representation Thompson appeared in long black cotton hose, borrowed from the cook, an old Zouave jacket, and black cloak. He had on his head a high felt hat, with a brim of the broadest kind, and fastened to the gigantic buckle of this article was a bunch of feathers. His tout ensemble was a kaleidoscopic combination of Beppo, a primitive African, Captain Kidd the pirate, and a Pilgrim Father. We omitted to mention that dangling from his side was the dress sword of Captain Puffeigh, which clanked and got in his way in a most uncomfortable fashion.

The sergeant again appeared as a spirit, but was on this occasion draped in white muslin, several skirts formed of that material being wound about him, in an artistic manner. When he marched on, he could not be induced to glide, one of the audience took him for a "vestal virgin," and remarked the same to a neighbour, upon which the cook corrected him with the stinging observation that "any donkey might see it was a ghost," this sage remark producing a murmur of confirmation from her friends.

The greatest sensation of the evening was the third and last portion of the entertainment; and when the violinist appeared to announce that, "by special desire a young lady would support Mr. Thompson as Juliet," everybody rose and applauded. A sharp discussion among the audience followed, some imagining Jerry was to undertake the part of Juliet, assisted by a young lady, while to others the somewhat enigmatical speech was as plain as possible; however, the conversation served to pass away the time, and it brought forward some startling opinions.

If Thompson's rendering was correct, there must have been a wonderful similarity of voice and style between the distinguished tragedians. Be this as it may, he succeeded in delighting his audience. The fishmonger, who declared he was very intimate with the three great actors—he had seen them in the street—loudly asserting that "to his mind Jerry was more life-like than the originals." Of course, after this further criticism was superfluous.

Mary Ann had on one or two occasions, assisted at some parlour theatricals, and liked the fun immensely; so when her lover, who in her eyes appeared a greater hero than ever, requested her to take the part of "Juliet," she declared "she knew every word of it," and was dressed in a few moments.

Romeo certainly presented a most comical appearance. His lower limbs were encased in salmon-coloured hose, short blue trousers, fastened at the knee with green ribbon, purple doublet slashed with white, short cloak, and the before-mentioned dress sword. Upon his head was a lady's Leghorn hat—one of the old broad-brim period—attached to this being a crushed ostrich feather, which sometimes tilted over his eyes, and at others stuck bolt upright, his face being "got up" in a most alarming style, with cork wrinkles, moustache, and imperial.

Mary Ann being added to the company, the musicians were ordered to take up their positions on the stairs, from which elevated place they slaughtered "See the Conquering Hero comes," sandwiched artistically with "Auld Lang Syne," their numbers being strengthened by the addition of a young gentleman in stand-up collar and weak eyes, who performed on the "paperophonicon," and a fat man who was great on the drum and tea-tray. The overture to this piece strongly resembled a musical rendering of an earthquake.

Jerry made his entrance, and flattering was the greeting he received. His gorgeous costume quite took the audience by surprise, and the ladies unanimously declared "he was a duck."

After he had shouted the words "He jests at scars that never felt a wound," this being delivered in a tone of voice suitable to a deaf audience, Mary Ann, who was dressed in a lovely white silk robe, with a muslin veil fastened mantilla-like to her head, rose from behind the screen, placed her arm gingerly upon it, rested her cheek upon her hand, and at the proper time replied, "Ah, me!" in a very pathetic and creditable manner. After which she turned to her brother, who was holding her as she stood upon the chair, and observed, "Don't joggle the chair so, Alfred dear, or I shall slip off."

The performance went off splendidly. Sergeant Ross held Mary Ann quite firmly, and prompted her from a copy of Shakespeare, procured for the occasion from the library. Everything was lovely, and loud the applause that followed the delivery of each period.

Juliet had made her exit, or rather had been assisted off her perch by her brother, and Romeo was repeating the well-known lines, "Oh blessed, blessed night! I am afeard, being in night, all this is but a dream," when he suddenly stopped, gaped, made a grimace, and shouting, "Look out there!" rushed behind the screen, rapidly stripped off his costume, and resumed his sailor's attire. The audience seeing his agile exit, took it as a portion of the performance, and screamed with delight, when suddenly they were aware of the presence of an unwelcome visitor, as some one in the doorway said, "You'll find it isn't a dream, my fine fellow. Where's the cook?"

"Turn him out!" cried several of the audience.

"Where's the cook?" demanded the angry voice.

"Gone to the play," returned a wag.

"Who's that taking my name in vain?" inquired that lady. As she said this she turned round, and beheld the fiery visage of Captain Puffeigh, who had returned to fetch something for his wife, and to tell the servants "they need not sit up."

Upon seeing him she screamed out, "Oh! my! it's the capting!" and immediately went into violent hysterics.

The place was soon cleared, and Puffeigh about to depart, when a movement at the end of the hall arrested his attention. He walked to the table, and pulled the screen on one side; beholding as he did so, a tableau which nearly brought on an apoplectic fit. Mary Ann was seated in a chair, sobbing as if her heart would break. Supporting her on either side were the sergeant and Thompson, who looked at the captain as if he were a transparent substance, and could be seen through.

"Who the deuce are you?" said the captain.

The soldier saluted and the sailor smiled.

"You—you—who are you?"

The sergeant saluted again.

"Bless you! you red coated puppy! what's your name?"

This only brought forth another mechanical salute from the military man.

Being baffled by the tactics of the "regular army," Puffeigh next tackled the sailor. What with cork wrinkles and other facial decorations, it would have been somewhat a puzzle for his mother to have identified Jerry, who looked his officer full in the face, and bowed rapidly, saying,

"Service to ye, sir."

"What ship do you belong to?" demanded the captain.

"Wictory, yer honour."

"What's your name?" bullied Puffeigh.

"Jemmy Green, sir."

"It's a deuced good job for you that I leave England a few days, or I'd call in a policeman and give you in charge. Clear out! you fellow, it's a blessing you don't belong to my ship, or I'd have you four dozen lashes for this evening's amusement." Saying this the noble commander strutted fiercely out of the hall.

Thompson waited until his superior officer was fairly up stairs, when he bawled after him, "Pleasant voyage to you, captain. I'm glad we ain't aboard the Stinger," and then vanished out-of-doors with his lady.

The lovers lingered long at the gate, and bade each other good-bye a hundred times.

"I'll never look at any one else again, Jerry dear," sobbed Mary Ann.

"And I'll be as true as steel, s' help me, I will," replied the ardent lover.

The girl saw him to the end of the lane, and then bade him good-bye, upon which he vowed he must see her safely back again. This little amusement they repeated a great many times, until the cook came out, with her apron over her head, and declared "they were both fools; and if Mary Ann didn't come in, she would lock her out." This announcement brought them to their senses; so, resigning his love to the care of her sympathetic fellow-servant, he, with something very much like a groan, tore himself away.

One of the housemaids lingered upon the stairs to hear how the lovers parted, and when the cook gave her the particulars, she exclaimed "Poor Mary Ann! poor Jerry! especially poor Mary Ann!" And in this sentiment, peculiar as it is, we cordially agree.