Chapter 59 - Page 2

hands exclaimed, "White-Jacket, I
have been from home nearly three years; in that time I have never
heard one word from my family, and, though God knows how I love
them, yet I swear to you, that though my brother can tell me
whether my sisters are still alive, yet, rather than accost him
in this _lined-frock_, I would go ten centuries without hearing
one syllable from home?"

Amazed at his earnestness, and hardly able to account for it
altogether, I stood silent a moment; then said, "Why, Frank, this
midshipman is your own brother, you say; now, do you really think
that your own flesh and blood is going to give himself airs over
you, simply because he sports large brass buttons on his coat?
Never believe it. If he does, he can be no brother, and ought to
be hanged--that's all!"

"Don't say that again," said Frank, resentfully; "my brother is a
noble-hearted fellow; I love him as I do myself. You don't
understand me, White-Jacket; don't you see, that when my brother
arrives, he must consort more or less with our chuckle-headed
reefers on board here? There's that namby-pamby Miss Nancy of a
white-face, Stribbles, who, the other day, when Mad Jack's back
was turned, ordered me to hand him the spy-glass, as if he were a
Commodore. Do you suppose, now, I want my brother to see me a
lackey abroad here? By Heaven it is enough to drive one distracted!
What's to be done?" he cried, fiercely.

Much more passed between us, but all my philosophy was in vain,
and at last Frank departed, his head hanging down in despondency.

For several days after, whenever the quarter-master reported a
sail entering the harbour, Frank was foremost in the rigging to
observe it. At length, one afternoon, a vessel drawing near was
reported to be the long-expected store ship. I looked round for
Frank on the spar-deck, but he was nowhere to be seen. He must
have been below, gazing out of a port-hole. The vessel was hailed
from our poop, and came to anchor within a biscuit's toss of our
batteries.

That evening I heard that Frank had ineffectually endeavoured to
get removed from his place as an oarsman in the First-Cutter--a
boat which, from its size, is generally employed with the launch
in carrying ship-stores. When I thought that, the very next day,
perhaps, this boat would be plying between the store ship and our
frigate, I was at no loss to account for Frank's attempts to get
rid of his oar, and felt heartily grieved at their failure.

Next morning the bugler called away the First-Cutter's crew, and
Frank entered the boat with his hat slouched over his eyes. Upon
his return, I was all eagerness to learn what had happened, and,
as the communication of his