"
The next morning we anchored at Spithead, and found the convoy ready for
sea. The captain went on shore to report himself to the admiral, and, as
usual, the brig was surrounded with bumboats and wherries, with people
who wished to come on board. As we were not known on the Portsmouth
station, and had no acquaintance with the people, all the bumboats were
very anxious to supply the ship: and, as this is at the option of the
first lieutenant, he is very much persecuted until he has made his
decision. Certificates of good conduct from other officers were handed
up the side from all of them; and I looked over the books at the
capstern. In the second book the name struck me; it was that of Mrs
Trotter, and I walked to the gangway out of curiosity, to ascertain
whether it was the same personage who, when I was a youngster, had taken
such care of my shirts. As I looked at the boats, a voice cried out, "O,
Mr Simple, have you forgot your old friend? don't you recollect Mrs
Trotter?" I certainly did not recollect her; she had grown very fat,
and, although more advanced in years, was a better-looking woman than
when I had first seen her, for she looked healthy and fresh.
"Indeed, I hardly did recollect you, Mrs Trotter."
"I've so much to tell you, Mr Simple," replied she, ordering the boat to
pull alongside; and, as she was coming up, desired the man to get the
things in, as if permission was quite unnecessary. I did not
counter-order it, as I knew none of the others, and, as far as honesty
was concerned, believed them all to be much on a par.
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