a blind woman had drawn, as if by magic, from its deep recess. What
was to be done?--for he should have liked to have taken this wreck of
_a man of war into tow_. The reflection caused him to examine more
closely the shivering seaman, when a small scar, occasioned by a
splinter, on the _bridge of the nose_, brought to his remembrance Bob
_Clewlines_, who had served in the same ship: the tar recognised him
also; but, so far from making himself known to him, he hid his face
in his hand: the reefer, however, was resolved to bring him to. "What,
Bob Clewlines!" cried he, "do I not hail an old shipmate in you, a
quarter-master on board the ----, the bravest heart of oak, the best
reefer, and the merriest steersman of the whole ship's crew; and,"
said he audibly, that every one passing might hear and value fallen
courage and fidelity, "and _as prime a seaman as ever trimmed a sail,
or served a gun_; why, what has broke up your old hulk this way?" The
man could not find utterance; remembrance of _unrequited services_
and other associations checked him. The middy stretched out his hand,
which the _broken-hearted sailor_ ventured not to take. "Come, Bob,"
cried the other, "no subordination now: we are all equals on life's
_quarter-deck_, and when my _fellow-man_ suffers, he _rises_ a peg in
my estimation. Why?--because _unfeeling lubbers_ slight him. Come tip
us your _fin_. Your hand may be dirty, but your soul is as kind as a
new sail in a sunny day. I'll show it against any lord's in the land.
Come, heave a head; follow me, old tarry breeches; I'll soon set your
_timbers_ and _rigging_ to rights; you shall have an entire refit.
Come, bear a hand; _set_ all your _canvass_; it's all in _ribbons_, I
see, and _shivers_ in the wind; but I'll keep out wind and weather for
you."

Thus saying, he walked proudly with the poor tar, astern of him, until
he came to a slop-shop, near Wellclose square: it was a Jew's. "Here,