Tales of the Sea, and of Our Jack Tars

________________________________________________________________________ This is a collection of nine stories, some short, and some not so short. They are all very good reading, and Kingston seems to be at his best in the short story mode. You will probably enjoy the two episodes from the life of "Uncle Boz", that form the second story, especially the first, when he organises the rescue of the crew and passengers of a vessel that is wrecked near his house on a stormy Christmas Day.

The first story, "Happy Jack", is by far the longest, occupying one third of the whole book. Jack, in spite of the desires of his lawyer father, goes to sea, where he has many adventures, culminating in an event in which he was presumed to have perished. Very short of money, and looking somewhat dishevelled, he reaches home, where he is not recognised by his sisters, but a girl who was being brought up by the family, and who was mutually interested in Jack, does recognise him, and he is given a proper welcome home.

________________________________________________________________________ TALES OF THE SEA, BY W.H.G. KINGSTON.

STORY ONE, CHAPTER 1.

HAPPY JACK.

Have any of you made a passage on board a steamer between London and Leith? If you have, you will have seen no small number of brigs and brigantines, with sails of all tints, from doubtful white to decided black--some deeply=laden, making their way to the southward, others with their sides high out of the water, heeling over to the slightest breeze, steering north.

On board one of those delectable craft, a brig called the Naiad, I found myself when about fourteen summers had passed over my head. She must have been named after a negress naiad, for black was the prevailing colour on board, from the dark, dingy forecastle to the captain's state cabin, which was but a degree less dirty than the portion of the vessel in which I was destined to live. The bulwarks, companion-hatch, and other parts had, to be sure, once upon a time been painted green, but the dust from the coal, which formed her usual cargo, had reduced every portion to one sombre hue, which even the salt seas not unfrequently breaking over her deck had failed to wash clean.

Captain Grimes, her commander, notwithstanding this, was proud of the old craft; and he especially delighted to tell how she had once carried a pennant when conveying troops to Corunna, or some other port in Spain.

I pitied the poor fellows confined to the narrow limits of her dark hold, redolent of bilge-water and other foul odours. We, however, had not to complain on that score, for the fresh water which came in through her old sides by many a leak, and had to be pumped out every watch, kept her hold sweet.

How I came to be on board the Naiad I'll tell you--