"
"Still deeper and deeper in thy effrontery--and what if this be true?"
"Sir, a ship is a seaman's mistress--nay, when fairly under a pennant,
with a war declared, he may be said to be wedded to her, lawfully or not.
He becomes 'bone of her bone, and flesh of her flesh, until death doth
them part.' To such a long compact, there should be liberty of choice.
Has not your mariner a taste, as well as your lover? The harpings and
counter of his ship are the waist and shoulders; the rigging, the
ringlets; the cut and fit of the sails, the fashion of the millinery; the
guns are always called the teeth, and her paint is the blush and bloom!
Here is matter of choice, Sir; and, without leave to make it, I must wish
your Honor a happy cruise, and the Queen a better servitor."
"Why, Master Tiller," cried Ludlow, laughing, "you trust too much to these
stunted oaks, if you believe it exceeds my power to hunt you out of their
cover, at pleasure. But I take you at your word. The Coquette shall
receive you on these conditions, and with the confidence that a first-rate
city belle would enter a country ball-room."
"I follow in your Honor's wake, without more words," returned he of the
sash, for the first time respectfully raising his canvas cap to the young
commander. "Though not actually married, consider me a man betrothed."
It is not necessary to pursue the discourse between the two seamen any
further.
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