marines, and exhibiting in embroidery, the figure of a crescent. His
coat was of white cloth, faced with black, and cut in a very antique
fashion; and, in lieu of a waistcoat, he wore a buff jerkin. His feet
were cased with loose buskins, which, though they rose almost to his
knee, could not hide that curvature, known by the appellation of bandy
legs. A large string of bandaliers garnished a broad belt that graced
his shoulders, from whence depended an instrument of war, which was
something between a back-sword and a cutlass; and a case of pistols were
stuck in his girdle.

Such was the figure which the whole company now surveyed with admiration.
After some pause, he seemed to recover his recollection. He rolled about
his eyes around, and, attentively surveying every individual, exclaimed,
in a strange tone, "Bodikins! where's Gilbert?" This interrogation did
not savour much of sanity, especially when accompanied with a wild
stare, which is generally interpreted as a sure sign of a disturbed
understanding. Nevertheless, the surgeon endeavoured to assist his
recollection. "Come," said he, "have a good heart.--How dost do,
friend?" "Do!" replied the squire, "do as well as I can.--That's a lie
too; I might have done better. I had no business to be here." "You
ought to thank God and your master," resumed the surgeon, "for the
providential escape you have had." "Thank my master!" cried the squire,
"thank the devil! Go and teach your grannum to crack filberds. I know
who I'm bound to pray for, and who I ought to curse the longest day I
have to live."

Here the captain interposing, "Nay, brother," said he, "you are bound to
pray for this here gentleman as your sheet-anchor; for, if so be as he
had not cleared your stowage of the water you had taken in at your upper
works, and lightened your veins, d'ye see, by taking away some of your