But there are two kinds of bravery, Mr Simple--the bravery of the
moment, and the courage of bearing up for a long while. Do you
understand me?"
"I think I do; but still do not agree with you. Who will bear more
fatigue than our sailors?"
"Yes, yes, Mr Simple, that is because they are _endured_ to it from
their hard life: but if the common sailors were all such little
thread-papers as you, and had been brought up so carefully, they would
not have gone through all you have. That's my opinion, Mr Simple--
there's nothing like _blood_."
"I think, Mr Chucks, you carry your ideas on that subject too far."
"I do not, Mr Simple; and I think, moreover, that he who has more to
lose than another will always strive more. Now a common man only fights
for his own credit; but when a man is descended from a long line of
people famous in history, and has a coat _in_ arms, criss-crossed, and
stuck all over with lions and unicorns to support the dignity of--why,
has he not to fight for the credit of all his ancestors, whose names
would be disgraced if he didn't behave well?"
"I agree with you, Mr Chucks, in the latter remark, to a certain
extent."
"Ah! Mr Simple, we never know the value of good descent when we have it,
but it's when we cannot get it that we can _'preciate_ it. I wish I had
been born a nobleman--I do, by heavens!" and Mr Chucks slapped his fist
against the funnel, so as to make it ring again. "Well, Mr Simple,"
continued he, after a pause, "it is, however, a great comfort to me that
I have parted company with that fool, Mr Muddle, with his twenty-six
thousand and odd years, and that old woman, Dispart, the gunner.
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