human
There, Jacob, is a good dose for you; you aren't always craving after it, like Tom.
gpt
He isn't troubled with low spirits, as I am, father.
human
How long has that been your complaint, Tom?
gpt
Ever since I heard how to cure it. Come, father, give us the yarn.
human
Well, then, you must mind that an old shipmate o' mine, Ben Leader, had a wife named Poll, a pretty sort of craft in her way--neat in her rigging, swelling-bows, taking sort of figure-head, and devilish well rounded in the counter; altogether, she was a very fancy girl, and all the men were after her. She'd a roguish eye, and liked to be stared at, as most pretty women do, because it flatters their vanities. Now, although she liked to be noticed so far by the other chaps, yet Ben was the only one she ever wished to be handled by; it was `Paws off, Pompey!' with all the rest. Ben Leader was a good-looking, active, smart chap, and could foot it in a reel, or take a bout at single-stick with the very best o' them; and she was mortal fond of him, and mortal jealous if he talked to any other woman, for the women liked Ben as much as the men liked she. Well, as they returned love for love, so did they return jealousy for jealousy; and the lads and lasses, seeing that, had a pleasure in making them come to a misunderstanding. So every day it became worse and worse between them. Now, I always says that it's a stupid thing to be jealous, _'cause_ if there be _cause_, there be no _cause_ for love and if there be no _cause_, there be no _cause_ for jealousy.
gpt
You're like a row in a rookery, father--nothing but _caws_,
human
Well, I suppose I am; but that's what I call chop logic--aren't it, master?
gpt
It was a syllogism,
human
I don't know what that is, nor do I want to know, replied old Tom;
gpt
I understood him, but just now, that she was running on foot; yet doth he talk about her _horse_. Expound, Jacob.
human
It was a nautical figure of speech, sir.
gpt
Exactly, rejoined Tom;
human
I will endeavour to comprehend by the context,
gpt
That is, I suppose, that you'll allow me to stick to my text. Well, then, here's coil away again. Ben, you see, what with his jealousy and what with a whole quartern at a draught, became _somehow nohow_, and he walked down to the jetty with the intention of getting rid of himself, and his wife and all his trouble by giving his soul back to his Creator, and his body to the fishes.
human
Bad philosophy,
gpt
I agree with you, master,
human
Pray what sort of a thing is philosophy?
gpt
Philosophy, replied old Tom,
human
Nay, replied the Dominie,
gpt
Well, I pronounce it quicker than you, master; but it's one and the same thing: but to go on. While Ben was standing on the jetty, thinking whether he should take one more quid of 'baccy afore he dived, who should come down but Poll, with her hair all adrift, streaming and coach-whipping astern of her, with the same intention as Ben--to commit _philo-zoffy_. Ben, who was standing at the edge of the jetty, his eyes fixed upon the water, as it eddied among the piles, looking as dismal as if he had swallowed a hearse and six, with the funeral feathers hanging out of his mouth--
human
A bold comparison,
gpt
Never sees her; and she was so busy with herself, that, although close to him, she never sees he--always remembering that the night was dark. So Poll turned her eyes up, for all the world like a dying jackdaw.
human
Tell me, friend Dux, interrupted the Dominie,
gpt
Yes, replied young Tom;
human
Then doth he die as he liveth. (_Cluck, cluck_.) Proceed, good Dux.