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Marryat, Frederick, 1792-1848

"Poor Jack"

We were walking toward the party who were advancing, when all
of a sudden my father started, and exclaimed:
"Well, shiver my timbers! if it ain't _she_--and _he_--by all that's
blue!"
Who _she_ or _he_ might be neither Virginia nor I could imagine; but I
looked at the party, who were now close to us, and perceived, in advance
of the rest, an enormous lady, dressed in a puce-colored pelisse and a
white satin bonnet. Her features were good, and, had they been on a
smaller scale, would have been considered handsome. She towered above
the rest of the company, and there was but one man who could at all
compete with her in height and size, and he was by her side.
My father stopped, took off his cocked hat, and scraped the gravel with
his timber toe, as he bowed a little forward.
"Sarvant, your honor's ladyship. Sarvant, your honor Sir Hercules."
"Ah! who have we here?" replied Sir Hercules, putting his hand up as a
screen above his eyes. "Who are you, my man?" continued he.
"Tom Saunders, your honor's coxswain, as was in the 'Druid,'" replied my
father, with another scrape of the gravel, "taken in moorings at last,
your honor. Hope to see your honor and your honorable ladyship quite
well.


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