good piece of a lad, swung me lightly onto his shoulder. "Harkee, Master
Richard," he said, "I can get nothing out of the poltroons by shouting.
Do you go in and say that Weld will fight any mother's son of them
single-handed."

"For shame, to send a lad into a tavern," said old Bobbins, who had known
my grandfather these many years. But the desire for a row was so great
among the rest that they silenced him. Weld set me down, and I, nothing
loth, ran through the open door.

I had never before been in the "Ship," nor, indeed, in any tavern save
that of Master Dingley, near Carvel Hall. The "Ship" was a bare place
enough, with low black beams and sanded floor, and rough tables and
chairs set about. On that September evening it was stifling hot; and
the odours from the men, and the spilled rum and tobacco smoke, well-nigh
overpowered me. The room was filled with a motley gang of sailors,
mostly from the bark Mr. Hood had come on, and some from H.M.S. Hawk,
then lying in the harbour.

A strapping man-o'-war's-man sat near the door, his jacket thrown open
and his great chest bared, and when he perceived me he was in the act of
proposing a catch; 'twas "The Great Bell o' Lincoln," I believe; and he
held a brimming cup of bumbo in his hand. In his surprise he set it
awkwardly down again, thereby spilling full half of it. "Avast," says
he, with an oath, "what's this come among us?" and he looked me over
with a comical eye. "A d-d provincial," he went on scornfully, "but a
gentleman's son, or Jack Ball's a liar." Whereupon his companions rose
from their seats and crowded round me. More than one reeled against me.
And though I was somewhat awed by the strangeness of that dark,
ill-smelling room, and by the rough company in which I found myself,