Part 14

At length, when four o’clock arrived, and it was time to go, The carriage was announced, but decent SARAH answered “No! Upon my word, I’d rather sleep my everlasting nap, Than go and ride alone with MR. PETER in a trap.”

And PETER’S over-sensitive and highly-polished mind Wouldn’t suffer him to sanction a proceeding of the kind; And further, he declared he suffered overwhelming shocks At the bare idea of having any coachman on the box.

So PETER into one turn-out incontinently rushed, While SARAH in a second trap sat modestly and blushed; And MR. NEWMAN’S coachman, on authority I’ve heard, Drove away in gallant style upon the coach-box of a third.

Now, though this modest couple in the matter of the car Were very likely carrying a principle too far, I hold their shy behaviour was more laudable in them Than that of PETER’S brother with MISS SARAH’S sister EM.

ALPHONSO, who in cool assurance all creation licks, He up and said to EMMIE (who had impudence for six), “MISS EMILY, I love you—will you marry? Say the word!” And EMILY said, “Certainly, ALPHONSO, like a bird!”

I do not recommend a newly-married pair to try To carry on as PETER carried on with SARAH BLIGH, But still their shy behaviour was more laudable in them Than that of PETER’S brother with MISS SARAH’S sister EM.

THE MARTINET

SOME time ago, in simple verse I sang the story true Of CAPTAIN REECE, the Mantelpiece, And all her happy crew.

I showed how any captain may Attach his men to him, If he but heeds their smallest needs, And studies every whim.

Now mark how, by Draconic rule And hauteur ill-advised, The noblest crew upon the Blue May be demoralized.

When his ungrateful country placed Kind REECE upon half-pay, Without much claim SIR BERKELY came, And took command one day.

SIR BERKELY was a martinet— A stern unyielding soul— Who ruled his ship by dint of whip And horrible black-hole.

A sailor who was overcome From having freely dined, And chanced to reel when at the wheel, He instantly confined!

And tars who, when an action raged, Appeared alarmed or scared, And those below who wished to go, He very seldom spared.

E’en he who smote his officer For punishment was booked, And mutinies upon the seas He rarely overlooked.

In short, the happy Mantelpiece, Where all had gone so well, Beneath that fool SIR BERKELY’S rule Became a floating hell.

When first SIR BERKELY came aboard He read a speech to all, And told them how he’d made a vow To act on duty’s call.

Then WILLIAM LEE, he up and said (The Captain’s coxswain he), “We’ve heard the speech your honour’s made, And werry pleased we be.

“We won’t pretend, my lad, as how We’re glad to lose our REECE; Urbane, polite, he suited quite The saucy Mantelpiece.

“But if your honour gives your mind To study all our ways, With dance and song we’ll jog along As in those happy days.

“I like your honour’s looks, and feel You’re worthy of your sword. Your hand, my lad—I’m doosid glad To welcome you aboard!”

SIR BERKELY looked amazed, as though He didn’t understand. “Don’t shake your head,” good WILLIAM said, “It is an honest hand.

“It’s grasped a better hand than yourn— Come, gov’nor, I insist!” The Captain stared—the coxswain glared— The hand became a fist!

“Down, upstart!” said the hardy salt; But BERKELY dodged his aim, And made him go in chains below: The seamen murmured “Shame!”

He stopped all songs at 12 p.m., Stopped hornpipes when at sea, And swore his cot (or bunk) should not Be used by aught than he.

He never joined their daily mess, Nor asked them to his own, But chaffed in gay and social way The officers alone.

His First Lieutenant, PETER, was As useless as could be, A helpless stick, and always sick When there was any sea.

This First Lieutenant proved to be His foster-sister MAY, Who went to sea for love of he In masculine array.