Such is the view which we are obliged to take of the professional
side of Captain Cuttwater's character. But the professional side
was by far the worst. Counting fathoms of rope and looking after
unruly midshipmen on shore are not duties capable of bringing out
in high relief the better traits of a main's character. Uncle
Bat, as during the few last years of his life he was always
called at Surbiton Cottage, was a gentleman and a man of honour,
in spite of anything that might be said to the contrary at the
Admiralty. He was a man with a soft heart, though the end of his
nose was so large, so red, and so pimply; and rough as was his
usage to little midshipmen when his duty caused him to encounter
them in a body, he had befriended many a one singly with kind
words and an open hand. The young rogues would unmercifully quiz
Old Nosey, for so Captain Cuttwater was generally called in
Devonport, whenever they could safely do so; but, nevertheless,
in their young distresses they knew him for their friend, and
were not slow to come to him.

In person Captain Cuttwater was a tall, heavy man, on whose iron
constitution hogsheads of Hollands and water seemed to have had
no very powerful effect. He was much given to profane oaths; but
knowing that manners required that he should refrain before
ladies, and being unable to bring his tongue sufficiently under
command to do so, he was in the habit of 'craving the ladies'
pardon' after every slip.

All that was really remarkable in Uncle Bat's appearance was
included in his nose. It had always been a generous, weighty,
self-confident nose, inviting to itself more observation than any
of its brother features demanded. But in latter years it had