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alled Moonshine, belonging to a person equally strange in his own way, who had, for many years, held the situation of harbour-master at Port Royal, but had then retired on a pension, and occupied a small house at Ryde, in the Isle of Wight. His name was Cockle, but he had long been addressed as Captain Cockle; and this brevet rank he retained until the day of his death. In person he was very large and fat--not unlike a cockle in shape: so round were his proportions, and so unwieldy, that it appeared much easier to roll him along from one place to another, than that he should walk. Indeed, locomotion was not to his taste: he seldom went much farther than round the small patch of garden which was in front of his house, and in which he had some pinks and carnations and chrysanthemums, of which he was not a little proud. His head was quite bald, smooth, and shining white; his face partook of a more roseate tint, increasing in depth till it settled into an intense red at the tip of his nose. Cockle had formerly been a master of a merchant-vessel, and from his residence in a warm climate had contracted a habit of potation, which became confirmed during the long period of his holding his situation at Port Royal. He had purchased Moonshine for three hundred dollars, when he was about seven years old, and, upon his return to England, had taken him with him.
Moonshine was very much attached to his master, very much attached to having his own way, and was, farther, very much attached to his master's grog bottle.
The first attachment was a virtue: the second human nature; and the third, in the opinion of old Cockle, a crime of serious magnitude. I very often called upon Captain Cockle, for he had a quaint humour about him which amused; and, as he seldom went out, he was always glad to see any of his friends. Another reason was, that I seldom went to the house without finding some entertainment in the continual sparring between the master and the man. I was at that time employed in the Preventive Service, and my station was about four miles from the residence of Cockle. One morning I stalked in, and found him, as usual, in his little parlour on the ground-floor.
"Well, Cockle, my boy, how are you?"
"Why, to tell you the truth, Bob, I'm all wrong. I'm on the stool of repentance; to wit, on this easy chair, doing penance, as you perceive, in a pair of duck trousers. Last night I was half-seas over, and tolerably happy; this morning I am high and dry, and intolerably miserable. Carried more sail than ballast last night, and lost my head; this morning I've found it again, with a pig of ballast in it, I believe. All owing to my good nature."
"How is that, Cockle?"
"Why, that Jack Piper was here last night; and rather than he should drink all the grog and not find his way home, I drank some myself--he'd been in a bad way if I had not, poor fellow!--and now, you see, I'm suffering all from good nature. Easiness of disposition has been my ruin, and has rounded me into this ball, by wearing away all my sharp edges, Bob."
"It certainly was very considerate and very kind of you, Cockle, especially when we know how much you must have acted at variance with your inclinations."
"Yes, Bob, yes, I am the milk punch of human kindness. I often cry-- when the chimney smokes; and sometimes--when I laugh too much. You see, I not only give my money, as others will do, but, as last night, I even give my head to assist a fellow-creature. I could, however, dispense with it for an hour or two this morning."
"Nay, don't say that; for although you might dispense with the upper part, you could not well get on without your mouth, Cockle."
"Very true, Bob; a chap without a mouth would be like a ship without a companion hatch;--talking about that, the combings of my mouth are rather dry--what do you say, Bob, shall we call Moonshine?"
"Why it's rather broad daylight for Moonshine."
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