“Yes, sir,” replied I. I had no idea of a night-glass; and as I observed that about this time his servant brought him up a glass of grog, I thought it very lucky that I knew what he meant. “Take care that you don’t break it, Mr Simple.” “Oh, then, I’m all right,” thought I; “he means the tumbler.” So down I went, called up the gunroom steward, and desired him to give me a glass of grog for Mr Doball. The steward tumbled out in his shirt, mixed the grog, and gave it to me, and I carried it up very carefully to the quarter-deck.
During my absence, the master had called the captain, and in pursuance of his orders, O’Brien had called the first lieutenant, and when I came up the ladder, they were both on deck. As I was ascending, I heard the master say, “I have sent young Simple down for my night-glass, but he is so long, that I suppose he has made some mistake. He’s but half a fool.” “That I deny,” replied Mr Falcon, the first lieutenant, just as I put my foot on the quarter-deck; “he’s no fool.” “Perhaps not,” replied the master. “Oh, here he is. What made you so long, Mr Simple–where is my night-glass?”
“Here it is, sir,” replied I, handing him the tumbler of grog; “I told the steward to make it stiff.” The captain and the first lieutenant burst out into a laugh for Mr Doball was known to be very fond of grog; the former walked aft to conceal his mirth; but the latter remained. Mr Doball was in a great rage. “Did not I say that the boy was half a fool?” cried he to the first lieutenant. “At all events, I’ll not allow that he has proved himself so in this instance,” replied Mr Falcon, “for he has hit the right nail on the head.” Then the first lieutenant joined the captain, and they both went off laughing. “Put it on the capstan, sir,” said Mr Doball to me, in an angry voice. “I’ll punish you by-and-by.” I was very much astonished; I hardly knew whether I had done right or wrong; at all events, thought I to myself, I did for the best; so I put it on the capstan and walked to my own side of the deck. The captain and first lieutenant then went below, and O’Brien came aft. “What vessel is it?” said I.
“To the best of my belief, it’s one of your bathing-machines going home with despatches,” replied he.
“A bathing machine,” said I; “why I thought that they were hauled up on the beach.” “That’s the Brighton sort; but these are made not to go up at all.”
“What then?”
“Why, to _go down_, to be sure; and remarkably well they answer their purpose. I won’t puzzle you any more, my Peter–I’m spaking helligorically, which I believe means telling a hell of a lie. It’s one of your ten-gun brigs, to the best of my knowledge.”
I then told O’Brien what had occurred, and how the master was angry with me. O’Brien laughed very heartily, and told me never to mind, but to keep in the lee-scuppers and watch him. “A glass of grog is a bait that he’ll play round till he gorges. When you see it to his lips, go up to him boldly, and ask his pardon, if you have offended him, and then, if he’s a good Christian, as I believe him to be, he’ll not refuse it.”
I thought this was very good advice, and I waited under the bulwark on the lee-side. I observed that the master made shorter and shorter turns every time, till at last he stopped at the capstan and looked at the grog. He waited about half a minute, and then he took up the tumbler, and drank about half of it. It was very strong, and he stopped to take breath. I thought this was the right time, and I went up to him. The tumbler was again to his lips, and before he saw me, I said, “I hope, sir, you’ll forgive me; I never heard of a night telescope, and knowing that you had walked so long, I thought you were tired, and wanted something to drink to refresh you.” “Well, Mr Simple,” said he, after he had finished the glass, with a deep sigh of pleasure, “as you meant kindly, I shall let you off this time; but recollect, that whenever you bring me a glass of grog again, it must not be in the presence of the captain or first lieutenant.” I promised him very faithfully, and went away quite delighted with my having made my peace with him, and more so, that the first lieutenant had said that I was no fool for what I had done.
At last our watch was over, and about two bells I was relieved by the midshipmen of the next watch. It is very unfair not to relieve in time, but if I said a word I was certain to be thrashed the next day upon some pretence or other. On the other hand, the midshipman whom I relieved was also much bigger than I was, and if I was not up before one bell, I was cut down and thrashed by him: so that between the two I kept much more than my share of the watch, except when the master sent me to bed before it was over.
Chapter XIII
The first lieutenant prescribes for one of his patients, his prescriptions consisting of _draughts_ only–O’Brien finishes the history of his life, in which the proverb of “the more the merrier” is sadly disproved–_Shipping_ a new pair of boots causes the _unshipping_ of their owner–Walking home after a ball, O’Brien meets with an accident.
The next morning I was on deck at seven bells, to see the hammocks stowed, when I was witness to Mr Falcon, the first lieutenant, having recourse to one of his remedies to cure a mizen-top-boy of smoking, a practice to which he had a great aversion. He never interfered with the men smoking in the galley, or chewing tobacco; but he prevented the boys, that is, lads under twenty or there-abouts, from indulging in the habit too early. The first lieutenant smelt the tobacco as the boy passed him on the quarter-deck. “Why, Neill, you have been smoking,” said the first lieutenant. “I thought you were aware that I did not permit such lads as you to use tobacco.”
“If you please, sir,” replied the mizen-top-man, touching his hat, “I’se got worms, and they say that smoking be good for them.”
“Good for them!” said the first lieutenant; “yes, very good for them, but very bad for you. Why, my good fellow, they’ll thrive upon tobacco until they grow as large as conger eels. Heat is what the worms are fond of; but cold–cold will kill them. Now I’ll cure you. Quarter-master, come here. Walk this boy up and down the weather-gangway, and every time you get forward abreast of the main-tack block, put his mouth to windward, squeeze him sharp by the nape of the neck until he opens his mouth wide, and there keep him and let the cold air blow down his throat, while you count ten; then walk him aft, and when you are forward again, proceed as before.–Cold kills worms, my poor boy, not tobacco–I wonder that you are not dead by this time.”
The quarter-master, who liked the joke, as did all the seamen, seized hold of the lad, and as soon as they arrived forward, gave him such a squeeze of the neck as to force him to open his mouth, if it were only to cry with pain. The wind was very fresh, and blew into his mouth so strong, that it actually whistled while he was forced to keep it open; and thus, he was obliged to walk up and down, cooling his inside, for nearly two hours, when the first lieutenant sent for him, and told him, that he thought all the worms must be dead by that time; but if they were not, the lad was not to apply his own remedies, but come to him for another dose. However, the boy was of the same opinion as the first lieutenant, and never complained of worms again.
A few nights afterwards, when we had the middle watch, O’Brien proceeded with his story.
“Where was it that I left off?”
“You left off at the time that you were taken out of confinement.”
“So I did, sure enough; and it was with no good-will that I went to my duty. However, as there was no help for it, I walked up and down the deck as before, with my hands in my pockets, thinking of old Ireland, and my great ancestor, Brien Borru. And so I went on behaving myself like a real gentleman, and getting into no more scrapes, until the fleet put into the Cove of Cork, and I found myself within a few miles of my father’s house. You may suppose that the anchor had hardly kissed the mud, before I went to the first lieutenant, and asked leave to go on shore. Now the first lieutenant was not in the sweetest of tempers, seeing as how the captain had been hauling him over the coals for not carrying on the duty according to his satisfaction. So he answered me very gruffly, that I should not leave the ship. ‘Oh, bother!’ said I to myself, ‘this will never do.’ So up I walked to the captain, and touching my hat, reminded him that ‘I had a father and mother, and a pretty sprinkling of brothers and sisters, who were dying to see me, and that I hoped that he would give me leave.’ ‘Ax the first lieutenant,’ said he, turning away. ‘I have, sir,’ replied I, ‘and he says that the devil a bit shall I put my foot on shore.’ ‘Then you have misbehaved yourself,’ said the captain. ‘Not a bit of it, Captain Willis,’ replied I; ‘it’s the first lieutenant who has misbehaved.’ ‘How, sir?’ answered he, in an angry tone. ‘Why, sir, didn’t he misbehave just now in not carrying on the duty according to your will and pleasure? and didn’t you serve him out just as he deserved–and isn’t he sulky because you did– and arn’t that the reason why I am not to go on shore? You see, your honour, it’s all true as I said; and the first lieutenant has misbehaved and not I. I hope you will allow me to go on shore, captain, God bless you! and make some allowance for my parental feelings towards the arthers of my existence.’ ‘Have you any fault to find with Mr O’Brien?’ said the captain to the first lieutenant, as he came aft. ‘No more than I have with midshipmen in general; but I believe it is not the custom for officers to ask leave to go on shore before the sails are furled and the yards squared.’ ‘Very true,’ replied the captain; ‘therefore, Mr O’Brien, you must wait until the watch is called, and then, if you ask the first lieutenant, I have no doubt but you will have leave granted to you to go and see your friends.’ ‘Thank’e kindly, sir,’ replied I; and I hoped that the yards and sails would be finished off as soon as possible, for my heart was in my mouth, and I felt that if I had been kept much longer, it would have flown on shore before me.
“I thought myself very clever in this business, but I was never a greater fool in my life; for there was no such hurry to have gone on shore, and the first lieutenant never forgave me for appealing to the captain–but of that by-and-by, and all in good time. At last I obtained a grumbling assent to my going on shore, and off I went like a sky-rocket. Being in a desperate hurry, I hired a jaunting-car to take me to my father’s house. ‘Is it the O’Brien of Ballyhinch that you mane?’ inquired the spalpeen who drove the horse. ‘Sure it is,’ replied I; ‘and how is he, and all the noble family of the O’Briens?” ‘All well enough, bating the boy Tim, who caught a bit of confusion in his head the other night at the fair, and now lies at home in bed quite insensible to mate or drink; but the doctors give hopes of his recovery, as all the O’Briens are known to have such thick heads.’ ‘What do you mane by that, bad manners to you?’ said I, ‘but poor Tim–how did it happen–was there a fight?’ ‘Not much of a fight–only a bit of a skrummage–three crowners’ inquests, no more.’ ‘But you are not going the straight road, you thief,’ said I, seeing that he had turned off to the left. ‘I’ve my reasons for that, your honour,’ replied he; ‘I always turn away from the Castle out of principle–I lost a friend there, and it makes me melancholy.’ ‘How came that for to happen?’ ‘All by accident, your honour; they hung my poor brother Patrick there, because he was a bad hand at arithmetic.’ ‘He should have gone to a better school then,’ said I. ‘I’ve an idea that it was a bad school that he was brought up in,’ replied he, with a sigh. ‘He was a cattle-dealer, your honour, and one day, somehow or another, he’d a cow too much–all for not knowing how to count, your honour,–bad luck to his school-master.’ ‘All that may be very true,’ said I, ‘and pace be to his soul; but I don’t see why you are to drag me, that’s in such a hurry, two miles out of my way, out of principle.’ ‘Is your honour in a hurry to get home? Then I’ll be thinking they’ll not be in such a hurry to see you.’ ‘And who told you that my name was O’Brien, you baste?–and do you dare to say that my friends won’t be glad to see me?’ ‘Plase your honour, it’s all an idea of mine–so say no more about it. Only this I know: Father M’Grath, who gives me absolution, tould me the other day that I ought to pay him, and not run in debt, and then run away like Terence O’Brien, who went to say without paying for his shirts, and his shoes, and his stockings, nor anything else, and who would live to be hanged as sure as St Patrick swam over the Liffey with his head under his arm.’ ‘Bad luck to that Father McGrath,’ cried I; ‘devil burn me, but I’ll be revenged upon him!’
“By that time we had arrived at the door of my father’s house. I paid the rapparee, and in I popped. There was my father and mother, and all my brothers and sisters (bating Tim, who was in bed sure enough, and died next day), and that baste Father McGrath to boot. When my mother saw me she ran to me and hugged me as she wept on my neck, and then she wiped her eyes and sat down again; but nobody else said ‘How d’ye do?’ or opened their mouths to me. I said to myself, ‘Sure there’s some trifling mistake here,’ but I held my tongue. At last they all opened their mouths with a vengeance. My father commenced–‘Ar’n’t you ashamed on yourself, Terence O’Brien?’ ‘Ar’n’t you ashamed on yourself, Terence O’Brien?’ cried Father M’Grath. ‘Ar’n’t you ashamed on yourself?’ cried out all my brothers and sisters in full chorus, whilst my poor mother put her apron to her eyes and said nothing. ‘The devil a bit for myself, but very much ashamed for you all,’ replied I, ‘to treat me in this manner. What’s the meaning of all this?’ ‘Haven’t they seized my two cows to pay for your toggery, you spalpeen?’ cried my father. ‘Haven’t they taken the hay to pay for your shoes and stockings?’ cried Father M’Grath. ‘Haven’t they taken the pig to pay for that ugly hat of yours?’ cried my eldest sister. ‘And haven’t they taken my hens to pay for that dirk of yours?’ cried another. ‘And all our best furniture to pay for your white shirts and black cravats?’ cried Murdock, my brother. ‘And haven’t we been starved to death ever since?’ cried they all. ‘Och hone!’ said my mother. ‘The devil they have!’ said I, when they’d all done. ‘Sure I’m sorry enough, but it’s no fault of mine. Father, didn’t you send me to say?’ ‘Yes, you rapparee; but didn’t you promise–or didn’t I promise for you, which is all one and the same thing–that you’d pay it all back with your prize-money–and where is it? answer that, Terence O’Brien.’ ‘Where is it, father? I’ll tell you; it’s where next Christmas is–coming, but not come yet.’ ‘Spake to him, Father M’Grath,’ said my father. ‘Is not that a lie of yours, Terence O’Brien, that you’re after telling now?’ said Father McGrath; ‘give me the money.’ ‘It’s no lie, Father McGrath; if it pleased you to die to-morrow, the devil of a shilling have I to jingle on your tombstone for good luck, bating those three or four, which you may divide between you, and I threw them on the floor.
“‘Terence O’Brien,’ said Father McGrath, ‘its absolution that you’ll be wanting to-morrow, after all your sins and enormities; and the devil a bit shall you have–take that now.’
“‘Father M’Grath,’ replied I very angrily, ‘it’s no absolution that I’ll want from you, any how–take that now.’
“‘Then you have had your share of heaven; for I’ll keep you out of it, you wicked monster,’ said Father M’Grath–‘take that now.’
“‘If it’s no better than a midshipman’s berth,’ replied I, ‘I’d just as soon stay out; but I’ll creep in in spite of you–take that now, Father M’Grath.’
“‘And who’s to save your soul, and send you to heaven, if I don’t, you wicked wretch? but I’ll see you d–d first–so take that now, Terence O’Brien.’
“‘Then I’ll turn Protestant, and damn the Pope–take that now, Father M’Grath.’
“At this last broadside of mine, my father and all my brothers and sisters raised a cry of horror, and my mother burst into tears. Father M’Grath seized hold of the pot of holy water, and dipping in the little whisk, began to sprinkle the room, saying a Latin prayer, while they all went on squalling at me. At last, my father seized the stool, which he had been seated upon, and threw it at my head. I dodged, and it knocked down Father M’Grath, who had just walked behind me in full song. I knew that it was all over after that, so I sprang over his carcass, and gained the door. ‘Good morning to ye all, and better manners to you next time we meet,’ cried I, and off I set as fast as I could for the ship.
“I was melancholy enough as I walked back, and thought of what had passed. ‘I need not have been in such a confounded hurry,’ said I to myself, ‘to ask leave, thereby affronting the first lieutenant;’ and I was very sorry for what I had said to the priest, for my conscience thumped me very hard at having even pretended that I’d turn Protestant, which I never intended to do, nor never will, but live and die a good Catholic, as all my posterity have done before me, and, as I trust, all my ancestors will for generations to come. Well, I arrived on board, and the first lieutenant was very savage. I hoped he would get over it, but he never did; and he continued to treat me so ill that I determined to quit the ship, which I did as soon as we arrived in Cawsand Bay. The captain allowed me to go, for I told him the whole truth of the matter, and he saw that it was true; so he recommended me to the captain of a jackass frigate, who was in want of midshipmen.”
“What do you mean by a jackass frigate?” inquired I.
“I mean one of your twenty-eight gun-ships, so called, because there is as much difference between them and a real frigate, like the one we are sailing in, as there is between a donkey and a racehorse. Well, the ship was no sooner brought down to the dock-yard to have her ballast taken in, than our captain came down to her–a little, thin, spare man, but a man of weight nevertheless, for he brought a great pair of scales with him, and weighed everything that was put on board. I forget his real name, but the sailors christened him Captain Avoirdupois. He had a large book, and in it he inserted the weight of the ballast, and of the shot, water, provisions, coals, standing and running rigging, cables, and everything else. Then he weighed all the men, and all the midshipmen, and all the midshipmen’s chests, and all the officers, with everything belonging to them: lastly, he weighed himself, which did not add much to the sum total. I don’t exactly know what this was for; but he was always talking about centres of gravity, displacement of fluid, and Lord knows what. I believe it was to find out the longitude, somehow or other, but I didn’t remain long enough in her to know the end of it, for one day I brought on board a pair of new boots, which I forgot to report that they might be put into the scales, which swang on the gangway; and whether the captain thought that they would sink his ship, or for what I can not tell, but he ordered me to quit her immediately–so, there I was adrift again. I packed up my traps and went on shore, putting on my new boots out of spite, and trod into all the mud and mire I could meet, and walked up and down from Plymouth to Dock until I was tired, as a punishment to them, until I wore the scoundrels out in a fortnight.
“One day I was in the dockyard, looking at a two-decker in the basin, just brought forward for service, and I inquired who was to be the captain. They told me that his name was O’Connor. Then’s he’s a countryman of mine, thought I, and I’ll try my luck. So I called at Goud’s Hotel, where he was lodging, and requested to speak with him. I was admitted, and I told him, with my best bow, that I had come as a volunteer for his ship, and that my name was O’Brien. As it happened, he had some vacancies, and liking my brogue, he asked me in what ships I had served. I told him, and also my reason for quitting my last–which was, because I was turned out of it. I explained the story of the boots, and he made inquiries, and found that it was all true; and then he gave me a vacancy as master’s mate. We were ordered to South America, and the trade winds took us there in a jiffey. I liked my captain and officers very much; and what was better, we took some good prizes. But somehow or other, I never had the luck to remain long in one ship, and that by no fault of mine; at least, not in this instance. All went on as smooth as possible, until one day the captain took us on shore to a ball, at one of the peaceable districts. We had a very merry night of it; but as luck would have it, I had the morning watch to keep, and see the decks cleaned, and as I never neglected my duty, I set off about three o’clock in the morning, just at break of day, to go on board of the ship. I was walking along the sands, thinking of the pretty girl that I’d been dancing with, and had got about half way to the ship, when three rapparees of Spanish soldiers came from behind a rock and attacked me with their swords and bayonets. I had only my dirk, but I was not to be run through for nothing, so I fought them as long as I could. I finished one fellow, but at last they finished me; for a bayonet passed through my body, and I forgot all about it. Well, it appears–for I can only say to the best of my knowledge and belief–that after they had killed me, they stripped me naked and buried me in the sand, carrying away with them the body of their comrade. So there I was–dead and buried.”
“But, O’Brien,” said I
“Whist–hold your tongue–you’ve not heard the end of it. Well, I had been buried about an hour–but not very deep it appears, for they were in too great a hurry–when a fisherman and his daughter came along the beach, on their way to the boat; and the daughter, God bless her! did me the favour to tread upon my nose. It was clear that she had never trod upon an Irishman’s nose before, for it surprised her, and she looked down to see what was there, and not seeing anything, she tried it again with her foot, and then she scraped off the sand, and discovered my pretty face. I was quite warm and still breathing, for the sand had stopped the blood, and prevented my bleeding to death. The fisherman pulled me out, and took me on his back to the house where the captain and officers were still dancing. When he brought me in, there was a great cry from the ladies, not because I was murdered, for they are used to it in those countries, but because I was naked, which they considered a much more serious affair. I was put to bed and a boat despatched on board for our doctor; and in a few hours I was able to speak, and tell them how it happened. But I was too ill to move when the ship sailed, which she was obliged to do in a day or two afterwards, so the captain made out my discharge, and left me there. The family were French, and I remained with them for six months before I could obtain a passage home, during which I learnt their language, and a very fair allowance of Spanish to boot. When I arrived in England, I found that the prizes had been sold, and that the money was ready for distribution. I produced my certificate, and received L167 for my share. So it’s come at last, thought I.
“I never had such a handful of money in my life; but I hope I shall again very soon. I spread it out on the table as soon as I got home, and looked at it, and then I said to myself, ‘Now, Terence O’Brien, will you keep this money to yourself, or send it home?’ Then I thought of Father M’Grath, and the stool that was thrown at my head, and I was very near sweeping it all back into my pocket. But then I thought of my mother, and of the cows, and the pig, and the furniture, all gone; and of my brothers and sisters wanting praties, and I made a vow that I’d send every farthing of it to them, after which Father M’Grath would no longer think of not giving me absolution. So I sent them every doit, only reserving for myself the pay which I had received, amounting to about L30: and I never felt more happy in my life than when it was safe in the post-office, and fairly out of my hands. I wrote a bit of a letter to my father at the time, which was to this purpose:–
“‘HONOURED FATHER,–
Since our last pleasant meeting, at which you threw the stool at my head, missing the pigeon and hitting the crow, I have been dead and buried, but am now quite well, thank God, and want no absolution from Father M’Grath, bad luck to him. And what’s more to the point, I have just received a batch of prize-money, the first I have handled since I have served his Majesty, and every farthing of which I now send to you, that you may get back your old cows, and the pig, and all the rest of the articles seized to pay for my fitting out; so never again ask me whether I am not ashamed of myself; more shame to you for abusing a dutiful son like myself, who went to sea at your bidding, and has never had a real good potato down his throat ever since. I’m a true O’Brien, tell my mother, and don’t mane to turn Protestant, but uphold the religion of my country; although the devil may take Father M’Grath and his holy water to boot. I sha’n’t come and see you, as perhaps you may have another stool ready for my head, and may take better aim next time.
So no more at present from your affectionate son, ‘TERENCE O’BRIEN.'”
“About three weeks afterwards I received a letter from my father, telling me that I was a real O’Brien, and that if any one dared hint to the contrary, he would break every bone in his body; that they had received the money, and thanked me for a real gentleman as I was; that I should have the best stool in the house next time I came, not for my head, but for my tail; that Father M’Grath sent me his blessing, and had given me absolution for all I had done, or should do for the next ten years to come; that my mother had cried with joy at my dutiful behaviour; and that all my brothers and sisters (bating Tim, who had died the day after I left them) wished me good luck, and plenty more prize-money to send home to them.
“This was all very pleasant; and I had nothing left on my mind but to get another ship; so I went to the port-admiral, and told him how it was that I left my last: and he said, ‘that being dead and buried was quite sufficient reason for any one leaving his ship, and that he would procure me another, now that I had come to life again.’ I was sent on board of the guard-ship, where I remained about ten days, and then was sent round to join this frigate–and so my story’s ended; and there’s eight bells striking–so the watch is ended too; jump down, Peter, and call Robinson, and tell him that I’ll trouble him to forget to go to sleep again as he did last time, and leave me here kicking my heels, contrary to the rules and regulations of the service.”
Chapter XIV
The first lieutenant has more patients–Mr Chucks the Boatswain, lets me into the secret of his gentility.
Before I proceed with my narrative, I wish to explain to the reader that my history was not written in after-life, when I had obtained a greater knowledge of the world. When I first went to sea, I promised my mother that I would keep a journal of what passed, with my reflections upon it. To this promise I rigidly adhered, and since I have been my own master, these journals have remained in my possession. In writing, therefore, the early part of my adventures, everything is stated as it was impressed on my mind at the time. Upon many points I have since had reason to form a different opinion from that which is recorded, and upon many others I have since laughed heartily at my folly and simplicity; but still, I have thought it advisable to let the ideas of the period remain, rather than correct them by those of dear-bought experience. A boy of fifteen, brought up in a secluded country town, cannot be expected to reason and judge as a young man who has seen much of life, and passed through a variety of adventures. The reader must therefore remember, that I have referred to my journal for the opinions and feelings which guided me between each distinct anniversary of my existence.
We had now been cruising for six weeks, and I found that my profession was much more agreeable than I had anticipated. My desire to please was taken for the deed; and, although I occasionally made a blunder, yet the captain and first lieutenant seemed to think that I was attentive to my duty to the best of my ability, and only smiled at my mistakes. I also discovered, that, however my natural capacity may have been estimated by my family, that it was not so depreciated here; and every day I felt more confidence in myself, and hoped, by attention and diligence, to make up for a want of natural endowment. There certainly is something in the life of a sailor which enlarges the mind. When I was at home six months before, I allowed other people to think for me, and acted wholly on the leading-strings of their suggestions; on board, to the best of my ability, I thought for myself. I became happy with my messmates–those who were harsh upon me left off, because I never resented their conduct, and those who were kind to me were even kinder than before. The time flew away quickly, I suppose, because I knew exactly what I had to do, and each day was the forerunner of the ensuing. The first lieutenant was one of the most amusing men I ever knew, yet he never relaxed from the discipline of the service, or took the least liberty with either his superiors or inferiors. His humour was principally shown in his various modes of punishment; and, however severe the punishment was to the party, the manner of inflicting it was invariably a source of amusement to the remainder of the ship’s company. I often thought, that although no individual liked being punished, yet, that all the ship’s company were quite pleased when a punishment took place. He was very particular about his decks; they were always as white as snow, and nothing displeased him so much as their being soiled. It was for that reason that he had such an objection to the use of tobacco. There were spitting-pans placed in different parts of the decks for the use of the men, that they might not dirty the planks with the tobacco-juice. Sometimes a man in his hurry forgot to use these pans, but, as the mess to which the stain might be opposite had their grog stopped if the party were not found out, they took good care not only to keep a look-out, but to inform against the offender. Now the punishment for the offence was as follows–the man’s hands were tied behind his back, and a large tin spitting-box fixed to his chest by a strap over the shoulders. All the other boxes on the lower deck were taken away, and he was obliged to walk there, ready to attend the summons of any man who might wish to empty his mouth of the tobacco-juice. The other men were so pleased at the fancy, that they spat twice as much as before, for the pleasure of making him run about. Mr Chucks, the boatswain, called it “the first lieutenant’s _perambulating_ spitting-pan.” He observed to me one day, “that really Mr Falcon was such an _epicure_ about his decks, that he was afraid to pudding an anchor on the forecastle.”
I was much amused one morning watch that I kept. We were stowing the hammocks in the quarter-deck nettings, when one of the boys came up with his hammock on his shoulder, and as he passed the first lieutenant, the latter perceived that he had a quid of tobacco in his cheek. “What have you got there, my good lad–a gum-boil?–your cheek is very much swelled.” “No, sir,” replied the boy, “there’s nothing at all the matter.” “O there must be; it is a bad tooth, then. Open your mouth, and let me see.” Very reluctantly the boy opened his mouth, and discovered a large roll of tobacco-leaf. “I see, I see,” said the first lieutenant, “your mouth wants overhauling, and your teeth cleaning. I wish we had a dentist on board; but as we have not, I will operate as well as I can. Send the armourer up here with his tongs.” When the armourer made his appearance, the boy was made to open his mouth, while the chaw of tobacco was extracted with his rough instrument. “There now,” said the first lieutenant, “I’m sure that you must feel better already; you never could have had any appetite. Now, captain of the afterguard, bring a piece of old canvas and some sand here, and clean his teeth nicely.” The captain of the afterguard came forward, and putting the boy’s head between his knees, scrubbed his teeth well with the sand and canvas for two or three minutes. “There, that will do,” said the first lieutenant. “Now, my little fellow, your mouth is nice and clean, and you’ll enjoy your breakfast. It was impossible for you to have eaten anything with your mouth in such a nasty state. When it’s dirty again, come to me, and I’ll be your dentist.”
One day I was on the forecastle with Mr Chucks, the boatswain, who was very kind to me. He had been showing me how to make the various knots and bends of rope which are used in our service. I am afraid that I was very stupid, but he showed me over and over again, until I learnt how to make them. Amongst others, he taught me a fisherman’s bend, which he pronounced to be the _king_ of all knots; “and, Mr Simple,” continued he, “there is a moral in that knot. You observe, that when the parts are drawn the right way, and together, the more you pull the faster they hold, and the more impossible to untie them; but see, by hauling them apart, how a little difference, a pull the other way, immediately disunites them, and then how easy they cast off in a moment. That points out the necessity of pulling together in this world, Mr Simple, when we wish to hold on, and that’s a piece of philosophy worth all the twenty-six thousand and odd years of my friend the carpenter, which leads to nothing but a brown study, when he ought to be attending to his duty.”
“Very true, Mr Chucks, you are the better philosopher of the two.”
“I am the better educated, Mr Simple, and I trust, more of a gentleman. I consider a gentleman to be, to a certain degree, a philosopher, for very often he is obliged, to support his character as such, to put up with what another person may very properly fly in a passion about. I think coolness is the great character-stick of a gentleman. In the service, Mr Simple, one is obliged to appear angry without indulging the sentiment. I can assure you, that I never lose my temper, even when I use my rattan.”
“Why, then, Mr Chucks, do you swear so much at the men? Surely that is not gentlemanly?”
“Most certainly not, sir. But I must defend myself by observing the very artificial state in which we live on board of a man-of-war. Necessity, my dear Mr Simple, has no law. You must observe how gently I always commence when I have to find fault. I do that to prove my gentility; but, sir, my zeal for the service obliges me to alter my language, to prove in the end that I am in earnest. Nothing would afford me more pleasure than to be able to carry on the duty as a gentleman, but that’s impossible.”
“I really cannot see why.”
“Perhaps, then, Mr Simple, you will explain to me why the captain and first lieutenant swear.”
“That I do not pretend to answer, but they only do so upon an emergency.”
“Exactly so; but, sir, their ‘mergency is my daily and hourly duty. In the continual working of the ship I am answerable for all that goes amiss. The life of a boatswain is a life of ‘mergency, and therefore I swear.”
“I still cannot allow it to be requisite, and certainly it is sinful.”
“Excuse me, my dear sir; it is absolutely requisite, and not at all sinful. There is one language for the pulpit, and another for on board ship, and, in either situation, a man must make use of those terms most likely to produce the necessary effect upon his listeners. Whether it is from long custom of the service, or from the indifference of a sailor to all common things and language (I can’t exactly explain myself, Mr Simple, but I know what I mean), perhaps constant excitement may do, and therefore he requires more ‘stimilis,’ as they call it, to make him move. Certain it is, that common parlancy won’t do with a common seaman. It is not here as in the scriptures, ‘Do this, and he doeth it’ (by the bye, that chap must have had his soldiers in tight order); but it is, ‘Do this, d–n your eyes,’ and then it is done directly. The order to _do_ just carries the weight of a cannon-shot, but it wants the perpelling power–the d–n is the gunpowder which sets it flying in the execution of its duty. Do you comprehend me, Mr Simple?”
“I perfectly understand you, Mr Chucks, and I cannot help remarking, and that without flattery, that you are very different from the rest of the warrant officers. Where did you receive your education?”
“Mr Simple, I am here a boatswain with a clean shirt, and, I say it myself, and no one dare gainsay it, also with a thorough knowledge of my duty. But although I do not say that I ever was better off, I can say this, that I’ve been in the best society, in the company of lords and ladies. I once dined with your grandfather.”
“That’s more than ever I did, for he never asked me, nor took the least notice of me,” replied I.
“What I state is true. I did not know that he was your grandfather until yesterday, when I was talking with Mr O’Brien; but I perfectly recollect him, although I was very young at that time. Now, Mr Simple, if you will promise me as a gentleman (and I know you are one), that you will not repeat what I tell you, then I’ll let you into the history of my life.”
“Mr Chucks, as I am a gentleman I never will divulge it until you are dead and buried, and not then if you do not wish it.”
“When I am dead and buried, you may do as you please; it may then be of service to other people, although my story is not a very long one.”
Mr Chucks then sat down upon the fore-end of the booms by the funnel, and I took my place by his side, when he commenced as follows:–
“My father was a boatswain before me–one of the old school, rough as a bear, and drunken as a Gosport fiddler. My mother was–my mother, and I shall say no more. My father was invalided for harbour duty after a life of intoxication, and died shortly afterwards. In the meantime I had been, by the kindness of the port-admiral’s wife, educated at a foundation school. I was thirteen when my father died, and my mother, not knowing what to do with me, wished to bind me apprentice to a merchant vessel; but this I refused, and, after six months’ quarrelling on the subject, I decided the point by volunteering in the _Narcissus_ frigate. I believe that my gentlemanly ideas were innate, Mr Simple; I never, as a child, could bear the idea of the merchant service. After I had been a week on board, I was appointed servant to the purser, where I gave such satisfaction by my alertness and dexterity, that the first lieutenant took me away from the purser to attend upon himself, so that in two months I was a person of such consequence as to create a disturbance in the gunroom, for the purser was very angry, and many of the officers took his part. It was whispered that I was the son of the first lieutenant, and that he was aware of it. How far that may be true I know not, but there was a likeness between us; and my mother, who was a very pretty woman, attended his ship many years before as a bumboat girl. I can’t pretend to say anything about it, but this I do say, Mr Simple–and many will blame me for it, but I can’t help my natural feelings–that I had rather be the bye-blow of a gentleman, than the ‘gitimate offspring of a boatswain and his wife. There’s no chance of good blood in your veins in the latter instance, whereas, in the former you may have stolen a drop or two. It so happened, that after I had served the first lieutenant for about a year, a young lord (I must not mention his name, Mr Simple) was sent to sea by his friends, or by his own choice, I don’t know which, but I was told that his uncle, who was ‘zeckative, and had an interest in his death, persuaded him to go. A lord at that period, some twenty-five years ago, was a rarity in the service, and they used to salute him when he came on board. The consequence was, that the young lord must have a servant to himself, although all the rest of the midshipmen had but one servant between them. The captain inquired who was the best boy in the ship, and the purser, to whom he appealed, recommended me. Accordingly, much to the annoyance of the first lieutenant (for first lieutenants in those days did not assume as they do now, not that I refer to Mr Falcon, who is a gentleman), I was immediately surrendered to his lordship. I had a very easy, comfortable life of it–I did little or nothing; if inquired for when all hands were turned up, I was cleaning his lordship’s boots, or brushing his lordship’s clothes, and there was nothing to be said when his lordship’s name was mentioned. We went to the Mediterranean (because his lordship’s mamma wished it), and we had been there about a year, when his lordship ate so many grapes that he was seized with a dysentery. He was ill for three weeks, and then he requested to be sent to Malta in a transport going to Gibraltar, or rather to the Barbary coast, for bullocks. He became worse every day, and made his will, leaving me all his effects on board, which I certainly deserved for the kindness with which I had nursed him. Off Malta we fell in with a xebeque, bound to Civita Vecchia, and the captain of the transport, anxious to proceed, advised our going on board of her, as the wind was light and contrary, and these Mediterranean vessels sailed better on a wind than the transport. My master, who was now sinking fast, consented, and we changed our ships. The next day he died, and a gale of wind came on, which prevented us from gaining the port for several days, and the body of his lordship not only became so offensive, but affected the superstition of the Catholic sailors so much, that it was hove overboard. None of the people could speak English, nor could I speak Maltese; they had no idea who we were, and I had plenty of time for cogitation. I had often thought what a fine thing it was to be a lord, and as often wished that I had been born one. The wind was still against us, when a merchant vessel ran down to us, that had left Civita Vecchia for Gibraltar. I desired the captain of the xebeque to make a signal of distress, or rather I did myself, and the vessel, which proved to be English, bore down to us.
“I manned the boat to go on board, and the idea came into my head, that, although they might refuse to take me, they would not refuse a lord. I put on the midshipman’s uniform belonging to his lordship (but then certainly belonging to me), and went alongside of the merchant vessel; I told them that I had left my ship for the benefit of my health, and wanted a passage to Gibraltar, on my way home. My title, and immediate acceptance of the terms demanded for my passage, was sufficient. My property was brought from the xebeque; and, of course, as they could not speak English, they could not contradict, even if they suspected. Here, Mr Simple, I must acknowledge a slight flaw in my early history, which I impart to you in confidence; or otherwise I should not have been able to prove that I was correct in asserting that I had dined with your grandfather. But the temptation was too strong, and I could not resist. Think yourself, Mr Simple, after having served as a ship’s boy clouted here, kicked there, damned by one, and sent to hell by another–to find myself treated with such respect and deference, and my lorded this and my lorded that, every minute of the day. During my passage to Gibraltar, I had plenty of time for arranging my plans. I hardly need say that my lord’s _kit_ was valuable; and what was better, they exactly fitted me. I also had his watches and trinkets, and many other things, besides a bag of dollars. However, they were honestly mine; the only thing that I took was his name, which he had no further occasion for, poor fellow! But it’s no use defending what was wrong–it was dishonest, and there’s an end of it.
“Now observe, Mr Simple, how one thing leads to another. I declare to you, that my first idea of making use of his lordship’s name, was to procure a passage to Gibraltar. I then was undecided how to act; but, as I had charge of his papers and letters to his mother and guardian, I think–indeed I am almost sure–that I should have laid aside my dignity and midshipman’s dress, and applied for a passage home to the commissioner of the yard. But it was fated to be otherwise; for the master of the transport went on shore to report and obtain pratique, and he told them everywhere that young Lord A—- was a passenger with him, going to England for the benefit of his health. In less than half-an-hour, off came the commissioner’s boat, and another boat from the governor, requesting the honour of my company, and that I would take a bed at their houses during my stay. What could I do? I began to be frightened; but I was more afraid to confess that I was an impostor, for I am sure the master of the transport alone would have kicked me overboard, if I had let him know that he had been so confounded polite to a ship’s boy. So I blushed half from modesty and half from guilt, and accepted the invitation of the governor; sending a polite verbal refusal to the commissioner, upon the plea of there being no paper or pens on board. I had so often accompanied my late master, that I knew very well how to conduct myself, and had borrowed a good deal of his air and appearance–indeed, I had a natural taste for gentility. I could write and read; not perhaps so well as I ought to have done, considering the education I had received, but still quite well enough for a lord, and indeed much better than my late master. I knew his signature well enough, although the very idea of being forced to use it made me tremble. However, the die was cast. I ought to observe, that in one point we were not unlike–both had curly light hair and blue eyes; in other points there was no resemblance. I was by far the better-looking chap of the two; and as we had been up the Mediterranean for two years, I had no fear of any doubt as to my identity until I arrived in England. Well, Mr Simple, I dressed myself very carefully, put on my chains and rings, and a little perfume on my handkerchief, and accompanied the aide-de-camp to the governor’s, where I was asked after my mother, Lady —-, and my uncle, my guardian, and a hundred other questions. At first I was much confused, which was attributed to bashfulness; and so it was, but not of the right sort. But before the day was over, I had become so accustomed to be called ‘my lord,’ and to my situation, that I was quite at my ease, and began to watch the motions and behaviour of the company, that I might regulate my comportment by that of good society. I remained at Gibraltar for a fortnight, and then was offered a passage in a transport ordered to Portsmouth. Being an officer, of course it was free to a certain extent. On my passage to England, I again made up my mind that I would put off my dress and title as soon as I could escape from observation; but I was prevented as before. The port-admiral sent off to request the pleasure of my company to dinner. I dared not refuse; and there I was, my lord, as before, courted and feasted by everybody. Tradesmen called to request the honour of my lordship’s custom; my table at the hotel was covered with cards of all descriptions; and, to confess the truth, I liked my situation so much, and had been so accustomed to it, that I now began to dislike the idea that one day or other I must resign it, which I determined to do as soon as I quitted the place. My bill at the hotel was very extravagant, and more than I could pay: but the master said it was not of the least consequence; that of course his lordship had not provided himself with cash, just coming from foreign parts, and offered to supply me with money if I required it. This, I will say, I was honest enough to refuse. I left my cards, P.P.C., as they do, Mr Simple, in all well-regulated society, and set off in the mail for London, where I fully resolved to drop my title, and to proceed to Scotland to his lordship’s mother, with the mournful intelligence of his death–for you see, Mr Simple, no one knew that his lordship was dead. The captain of the transport had put him into the xebeque alive, and the vessel bound to Gibraltar had received him, as they imagined. The captain of the frigate had very soon afterwards advices from Gibraltar, stating his lordship’s recovery and return to England. Well, I had not been in the coach more than five minutes, when who should get in but a gentleman whom I had met at the port-admiral’s; besides which the coachman and others knew me very well. When I arrived in London (I still wore my midshipman’s uniform), I went to an hotel recommended to me, as I afterwards found out, the most fashionable in town, my title still following me. I now determined to put off my uniform, and dress in plain clothes–my farce was over. I went to bed that night, and the next morning made my appearance in a suit of mufti, making inquiry of the waiter which was the best conveyance to Scotland.
“‘Post chay and four, my lord. At what time shall I order it?’
“‘O,’ replied I, ‘I am not sure that I shall go tomorrow.’
“Just at this moment in came the master of the hotel, with the _Morning Post_ in his hand, making me a low bow, and pointing to the insertion of my arrival at his hotel among the fashionables. This annoyed me; and now that I found how difficult it was to get rid of my title, I became particularly anxious to be William Chucks, as before. Before twelve o’clock, three or four gentlemen were ushered into my sitting-room, who observing my arrival in that damn’d _Morning Post_, came to pay their respects; and before the day was over I was invited and re-invited by a dozen people. I found that I could not retreat, and I went away with the stream, as I did before at Gibraltar and Portsmouth. For three weeks I was everywhere; and if I found it agreeable at Portsmouth, how much more so in London! But I was not happy, Mr Simple, because I was a cheat, every moment expecting to be found out. But it really was a nice thing to be a lord.
“At last the play was over. I had been enticed by some young men into a gambling-house, where they intended to fleece me; but, for the first night, they allowed me to win, I think, about L300. I was quite delighted with my success, and had agreed to meet them the next evening; but when I was at breakfast, with my legs crossed, reading the _Morning Post_, who should come to see me but my guardian uncle. He knew his nephew’s features too well to be deceived; and my not recognising him proved at once that I was an impostor. You must allow me to hasten over the scene which took place–the wrath of the uncle, the confusion in the hotel, the abuse of the waiters, the police officer, and being dragged into a hackney coach to Bow-street. There I was examined and confessed all. The uncle was so glad to find that his nephew was really dead, that he felt no resentment towards me; and as, after all, I had only assumed a name, but had cheated nobody, except the landlord at Portsmouth, I was sent on board the tender off the Tower, to be drafted into a man-of-war. As for my L300, my clothes, &c., I never heard any more of them; they were seized, I presume, by the landlord of the hotel for my bill, and very handsomely he must have paid himself. I had two rings on my fingers, and a watch in my pocket, when I was sent on board the tender, and I stowed them away very carefully. I had also a few pounds in my purse. I was sent round to Plymouth, where I was drafted into a frigate. After I had been there some time, I turned the watch and rings into money, and bought myself a good kit of clothes; for I could not bear to be dirty. I was put into the mizen-top, and no one knew that I had been a lord.”
“You found some difference, I should think, in your situation?”
“Yes, I did, Mr Simple; but I was much happier. I could not forget the ladies, and the dinners, and the opera, and all the delights of London, beside the respect paid to my title, and I often sighed for them; but the police officer and Bow-street also came to my recollection, and I shuddered at the remembrance. It had, however, one good effect; I determined to be an officer if I could, and learnt my duty, and worked my way up to quarter-master, and thence to boatswain–and I know my duty, Mr Simple. But I’ve been punished for my folly ever since. I formed ideas above my station in life, and cannot help longing to be a gentleman. It’s a bad thing for a man to have ideas above his station.”
“You certainly must find some difference between the company in London and that of the warrant officers.”
“It’s many years back now, sir; but I can’t get over the feeling. I can’t ‘sociate with them at all. A man may have the feelings of a gentleman, although in a humble capacity; but how can I be intimate with such people as Mr Dispart or Mr Muddle, the carpenter? All very well in their way, Mr Simple, but what can you expect from officers who boil their ‘tators in a cabbage-net hanging in the ship’s coppers, when they know that there is one-third of a stove allowed them to cook their victuals on?”
Chapter XV
I go on service and am made prisoner by an old lady, who, not able to obtain my hand, takes part of my finger as a token–O’Brien rescues me– A lee shore and narrow escape.
Two or three days after this conversation with Mr Chucks, the captain ran the frigate in shore, and when within five miles we discovered two vessels under the land. We made all sail in chase, and cut them off from escaping round a sandy point which they attempted to weather. Finding that they could not effect their purpose, they ran on shore under a small battery of two guns, which commenced firing upon us. The first shot which whizzed between the masts had to me a most terrific sound, but the officers and men laughed at it, so of course I pretended to do the same, but in reality I could see nothing to laugh at. The captain ordered the starboard watch to be piped to quarters, and the boats to be cleared, ready for hoisting out; we then anchored within a mile of the battery, and returned the fire. In the meantime, the remainder of the ship’s company hoisted out and lowered down four boats, which were manned and armed to storm the battery. I was very anxious to go on service, and O’Brien, who had command of the first cutter, allowed me to go with him, on condition that I stowed myself away under the foresheets, that the captain might not see me before the boats had shoved off. This I did, and was not discovered. We pulled in abreast towards the battery, and in less than ten minutes the boats were run on the beach, and we jumped out. The Frenchmen fired a gun at us as we pulled close to the shore, and then ran away, so that we took possession without any fighting, which, to confess the truth, I was not sorry for, as I did not think that I was old or strong enough to cope hand to hand with a grown-up man. There were a few fishermen’s huts close to the battery, and while two of the boats went on board of the vessels, to see if they could be got off, and others were spiking the guns and destroying the carriages, I went with O’Brien to examine them: they were deserted by the people, as might have been supposed, but there was a great quantity of fish in them, apparently caught that morning. O’Brien pointed to a very large skate–“Murder in Irish!” cried he, “it’s the very ghost of my grandmother! we’ll have her if it’s only for the family likeness. Peter, put your finger into the gills, and drag her down to the boat.” I could not force my finger into the gills, and as the animal appeared quite dead, I hooked my finger into its mouth; but I made a sad mistake, for the animal was alive, and immediately closed its jaws, nipping my finger to the bone, and holding it so tight that I could not withdraw it, and the pain was too great to allow me to pull it away by main force, and tear my finger, which it held so fast. There I was, caught in a trap, and made a prisoner by a flat-fish. Fortunately, I hallooed loud enough to make O’Brien, who was close down to the boats, with a large codfish under each arm, turn round and come to my assistance. At first he could not help me, from laughing so much; but at last he forced open the jaw of the fish with his cutlass, and I got my finger out, but very badly torn indeed. I then took off my garter, tied it round the tail of the skate, and dragged it to the boat, which was all ready to shove off. The other boats had found it impossible to get the vessels off without unloading–so, in pursuance of the captain’s orders, they were set on fire, and before we lost sight of them, had burnt down to the water’s edge. My finger was very bad for three weeks, and the officers laughed at me very much, saying that I narrowly escaped being made a prisoner of by an “old maid.”
We continued our cruise along the coast, until we had run down into the Bay of Arcason, where we captured two or three vessels, and obliged many more to run on shore. And here we had an instance showing, how very important it is that a captain of a man-of-war should be a good sailor, and have his ship in such discipline as to be strictly obeyed by his ship’s company. I heard the officers unanimously assert, after the danger was over, that nothing but the presence of mind which was shown by Captain Savage could have saved the ship and her crew. We had chased a convoy of vessels to the bottom of the bay: the wind was very fresh when we hauled off, after running them on shore, and the surf on the beach even at that time was so great, that they were certain to go to pieces before they could be got afloat again. We were obliged to double-reef the topsails as soon as we hauled to the wind, and the weather looked very threatening. In an hour afterwards, the whole sky was covered with one black cloud, which sank so low as nearly to touch our mast-heads, and a tremendous sea, which appeared to have risen up almost by magic, rolled in upon us, setting the vessel on a dead lee shore. As the night closed in, it blew a dreadful gale, and the ship was nearly buried with the press of canvas which she was obliged to carry; for had we sea-room, we should have been lying-to under storm staysails; but we were forced to carry on at all risks, that we might claw off shore. The sea broke over as we lay in the trough, deluging us with water from the forecastle, aft to the binnacles; and very often as the ship descended with a plunge, it was with such force that I really thought she would divide in half with the violence of the shock. Double breechings were rove on the guns, and they were further secured with tackles, and strong cleats nailed behind the trunnions, for we heeled over so much when we lurched, that the guns were wholly supported by the breechings and tackles, and had one of them broken loose, it must have burst right through the lee side of the ship, and she must have foundered. The captain, first lieutenant, and most of the officers, remained on deck during the whole of the night; and really, what with the howling of the wind, the violence of the rain, the washing of the water about the decks, the working of the chain-pumps, and the creaking and groaning of the timbers, I thought that we must inevitably have been lost; and I said my prayers at least a dozen times during the night, for I felt it impossible to go to bed. I had often wished, out of curiosity, that I might be in a gale of wind, but I little thought it was to have been a scene of this description, or anything half so dreadful. What made it more appalling was, that we were on a lee shore, and the consultations of the captain and officers, and the eagerness with which they looked out for daylight, told us that we had other dangers to encounter besides the storm. At last the morning broke, and the look-out man upon the gangway called out, “Land on the lee beam.” I perceived the master dash his fist against the hammock-rails, as if with vexation, and walk away without saying a word, and looking very grave.
“Up, there, Mr Wilson,” said the captain, to the second lieutenant, “and see how far the land trends forward, and whether you can distinguish the point.” The second lieutenant went up the main-rigging, and pointed with his hand to about two points before the beam.
“Do you see two hillocks inland?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the second lieutenant.
“Then it is so,” observed the captain to the master, “and if we weather it, we shall have more sea-room. Keep her full, and let her go through the water; do you hear, quarter-master?”
“Ay, ay, sir.”
“Thus, and no nearer, my man. Ease her with a spoke or two when she sends; but be careful, or she’ll take the wheel out of your hands.”
It really was a very awful sight. When the ship was in the trough of the sea, you could distinguish nothing but a waste of tumultuous water; but when she was borne up on the summit of the enormous waves, you then looked down, as it were, upon a low, sandy coast, close to you, and covered with foam and breakers. “She behaves nobly,” observed the captain, stepping aft to the binnacle, and looking at the compass; “if the wind does not baffle us, we shall weather.” The captain had scarcely time to make the observation, when the sails shivered and flapped like thunder. “Up with the helm; what are you about, quarter-master?”
“The wind has headed us, sir,” replied the quarter-master, coolly.
The captain and master remained at the binnacle watching the compass, and when the sails were again full, she had broken off two points, and the point of land was only a little on the lee bow.
“We must wear her round, Mr Falcon. Hands, wear ship–ready, oh, ready.”
“She has come up again,” cried the master, who was at the binnacle.
“Hold fast there a minute. How’s her head now?”
“N.N.E., as she was before she broke off, sir.”
“Pipe belay,” said the captain. “Falcon,” continued he, “if she breaks off again we may have no room to wear; indeed there is so little room now, that I must run the risk. Which cable was ranged last night–the best bower?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Jump down, then, and see it double-bitted and stoppered at thirty fathoms. See it well done–our lives may depend upon it.”
The ship continued to hold her course good; and we were within half a mile of the point, and fully expected to weather it, when again the wet and heavy sails flapped in the wind, and the ship broke off two points as before. The officers and seamen were aghast, for the ship’s head was right on to the breakers. “Luff now, all you can, quarter-master,” cried the captain. “Send the men aft directly. My lads, there is no time for words–I am going to _club-haul_ the ship, for there is no room to wear. The only chance you have of safety is to be cool, watch my eye, and execute my orders with precision. Away to your stations for tacking ship. Hands by the best bower anchor. Mr Wilson, attend below with the carpenter and his mates, ready to cut away the cable at the moment that I give the order. Silence, there, fore and aft. Quarter-master, keep her full again for stays. Mind you ease the helm down when I tell you.” About a minute passed before the captain gave any further orders. The ship had closed–to within a quarter of a mile of the beach, and the waves curled and topped around us, bearing us down upon the shore, which presented one continued surface of foam, extending to within half a cable’s length of our position. The captain waved his hand in silence to the quarter-master at the wheel, and the helm was put down. The ship turned slowly to the wind, pitching and chopping as the sails were spilling. When she had lost her way, the captain gave the order, “Let go the anchor. We will haul all at once, Mr Falcon,” said the captain. Not a word was spoken, the men went to the fore brace, which had not been manned; most of them knew, although I did not, that if the ship’s head did not go round the other way, we should be on shore, and among the breakers in half a minute. I thought at the time that the captain had said that he would haul all the yards at once, there appeared to be doubt or dissent on the countenance of Mr Falcon; and I was afterwards told that he had not agreed with the captain, but he was too good an officer, and knew that there was no time for discussion, to make any remark; and the event proved that the captain was right. At last the ship was head to wind, and the captain gave the signal. The yards flew round with such a creaking noise, that I thought the masts had gone over the side, and the next moment the wind had caught the sails, and the ship, which for a moment or two had been on an even keel, careened over to her gunnel with its force. The captain, who stood upon the weather-hammock rails, holding by the main-rigging, ordered the helm amidships, looked full at the sails, and then at the cable, which grew broad upon the weather bow, and held the ship from nearing the shore. At last he cried, “Cut away the cable!” A few strokes of the axes were heard, and then the cable flew out of the hawsehole in a blaze of fire, from the violence of the friction, and disappeared under a huge wave, which struck us on the chess-tree, and deluged us with water fore and aft. But we were now on the other tack, and the ship regained her way and we had evidently increased our distance from the land. “My lads,” said the captain to the ship’s company, “you have behaved well, and I thank you; but I must tell you honestly that we have more difficulties to get through. We have to weather a point of the bay on this tack. Mr Falcon, splice the main-brace, and call the watch. How’s her head, quarter-master?”
“S.W. by S. Southerly, sir.”
“Very well; let her go through the water;” and the captain, beckoning to the master to follow him, went down into the cabin. As our immediate danger was over, I went down into the berth to see if I could get anything for breakfast, where I found O’Brien and two or three more.
“By the powers, it was as nate a thing as ever I saw done,” observed O’Brien: “the slightest mistake as to time or management, and at this moment the flatfish would have been dubbing at our ugly carcases. Peter, you’re not fond of flatfish, are you, my boy? We may thank Heaven and the captain, I can tell you that, my lads; but now, where’s the chart, Robinson? Hand me down the parallel rules and compasses, Peter; they are in the corner of the shelf. Here we are now, a devilish sight too near this infernal point. Who knows how her head is?”
“I do, O’Brien: I heard the quarter-master tell the captain S.W. by S. Southerly.”
“Let me see,” continued O’Brien, “variation 2 1/4 lee way–rather too large an allowance of that, I’m afraid; but, however, we’ll give her 2 1/2 points; the _Diomede_ would blush to make any more, under any circumstances. Here–the compass–now we’ll see;” and O’Brien advanced the parallel rule from the compass to the spot where the ship was placed on the chart. “Bother! you see it’s as much as she’ll do to weather the other point now, on this tack, and that’s what the captain meant, when he told us we had more difficulty. I could have taken my Bible oath that we were clear of everything, if the wind held.”
“See what the distance is, O’Brien,” said Robinson. It was measured, and proved to be thirteen miles. “Only thirteen miles; and if we do weather, we shall do very well, for the bay is deep beyond. It’s a rocky point, you see, just by way of variety. Well, my lads, I’ve a piece of comfort for you, anyhow. It’s not long that you’ll be kept in suspense, for by one o’clock this day, you’ll either be congratulating each other upon your good luck, or you’ll be past praying for. Come, put up the chart, for I hate to look at melancholy prospects; and, steward, see what you can find in the way of comfort.” Some bread and cheese, with the remains of yesterday’s boiled pork, were put on the table, with a bottle of rum, procured at the time they “spliced the mainbrace;” but we were all too anxious to eat much, and one by one returned on deck to see how the weather was, and if the wind at all favoured us. On deck the superior officers were in conversation with the captain, who had expressed the same fear that O’Brien had in our berth. The men, who knew what they had to expect–for this sort of intelligence is soon communicated through a ship–were assembled in knots, looking very grave, but at the same time not wanting in confidence. They knew that they could trust to the captain, as far as skill or courage could avail them, and sailors are too sanguine to despair, even at the last moment. As for myself, I felt such admiration for the captain, after what I had witnessed that morning, that, whenever the idea came over me, that in all probability I should be lost in a few hours, I could not help acknowledging how much more serious it was that such a man should be lost to his country. I do not intend to say that it consoled me; but it certainly made me still more regret the chances with which we were threatened.
Before twelve o’clock, the rocky point which we so much dreaded was in sight, broad on the lee-bow; and if the low sandy coast appeared terrible, how much more did this, even at a distance: the black masses of rock, covered with foam, which each minute dashed up in the air, higher than our lower mast-heads. The captain eyed it for some minutes in silence, as if in calculation.
“Mr Falcon,” said he at last, “we must put the mainsail on her.”
“She never can bear it, sir.”
“She _must_ bear it,” was the reply. “Send the men aft to the mainsheet. See that careful men attend the buntlines.”
The mainsail was set, and the effect of it upon the ship was tremendous. She careened over so that her lee channels were under the water, and when pressed by a sea, the lee-side of the quarter-deck and gangway were afloat. She now reminded me of a goaded and fiery horse, mad with the stimulus applied; not rising as before, but forcing herself through whole seas, and dividing the waves, which poured in one continual torrent from the forecastle down upon the decks below. Four men were secured to the wheel–the sailors were obliged to cling, to prevent being washed away–the ropes were thrown in confusion to leeward, the shot rolled out of the lockers, and every eye was fixed aloft, watching the masts, which were expected every moment to go over the side. A heavy sea struck us on the broadside, and it was some moments before the ship appeared to recover herself; she reeled, trembled, and stopped her way, as if it had stupefied her. The first lieutenant looked at the captain, as if to say, “This will not do.” “It is our only chance,” answered the captain to the appeal. That the ship went faster through the water, and held a better wind, was certain; but just before we arrived at the point the gale increased in force. “If anything starts, we are lost, sir,” observed the first lieutenant again.
“I am perfectly aware of it,” replied the captain, in a calm tone; “but, as I said before, and you must now be aware, it is our only chance. The consequence of any carelessness or neglect in the fitting and securing of the rigging, will be felt now; and this danger, if we escape it, ought to remind us how much we have to answer for if we neglect our duty. The lives of a whole ship’s company may be sacrificed by the neglect or incompetence of an officer when in harbour. I will pay you the compliment, Falcon, to say, that I feel convinced that the masts of the ship are as secure as knowledge and attention can make them.”
The first lieutenant thanked the captain for his good opinion, and hoped it would not be the last compliment which he paid him.
“I hope not too; but a few minutes will decide the point.”
The ship was now within two cables’ lengths of the rocky point; some few of the men I observed to clasp their hands, but most of them were silently taking off their jackets, and kicking off their shoes, that they might not lose a chance of escape provided the ship struck.
“‘Twill be touch and go indeed, Falcon,” observed the captain (for I had clung to the belaying-pins, close to them, for the last half-hour that the mainsail had been set). “Come aft, you and I must take the helm. We shall want _nerve_ there, and only there, now.”
The captain and first lieutenant went aft, and took the forespokes of the wheel, and O’Brien, at a sign made by the captain, laid hold of the spokes behind him. An old quarter-master kept his station at the fourth. The roaring of the seas on the rocks, with the howling of the wind, were dreadful; but the sight was more dreadful than the noise. For a few moments I shut my eyes, but anxiety forced me to open them again. As near as I could judge, we were not twenty yards from the rocks, at the time that the ship passed abreast of them. We were in the midst of the foam, which boiled around us; and as the ship was driven nearer to them, and careened with the wave, I thought that our main-yard-arm would have touched the rock; and at this moment a gust of wind came on, which laid the ship on her beam-ends, and checked her progress through the water, while the accumulated noise was deafening. A few moments more the ship dragged on, another wave dashed over her and spent itself upon the rocks, while the spray was dashed back from them, and returned upon the decks. The main rock was within ten yards of her counter, when another gust of wind laid us on our beam-ends, the foresail and mainsail split, and were blown clean out of the bolt-ropes–the ship righted, trembling fore and aft. I looked astern: the rocks were to windward on our quarter, and we were safe. I thought at the time, that the ship, relieved of her courses, and again lifting over the waves, was not a bad similitude of the relief felt by us all at that moment; and, like her, we trembled as we panted with the sudden reaction, and felt the removal of the intense anxiety which oppressed our breasts.
The captain resigned the helm, and walked aft to look at the point, which was now broad on the weather quarter. In a minute or two, he desired Mr Falcon to get new sails up and bend them, and then went below to his cabin. I am sure it was to thank God for our deliverance: I did most fervently, not only then, but when I went to my hammock at night. We were now comparatively safe–in a few hours completely so; for strange to say, immediately after we had weathered the rocks, the gale abated, and before morning we had a reef out of the topsails. It was my afternoon watch, and perceiving Mr Chucks on the forecastle, I went forward to him, and asked him what he thought of it.
“Thought of it, sir!” replied he; “why, I always think bad of it when the elements won’t allow my whistle to be heard; and I consider it hardly fair play. I never care if we are left to our own exertions; but how is it possible for a ship’s company to do their best, when they cannot hear the boatswain’s pipe? However, God be thanked, nevertheless, and make better Christians of us all! As for that carpenter, he is mad. Just before we weathered the point, he told me that it was just the same 27,600 and odd years ago. I do believe that on his death-bed (and he was not far from a very hard one yesterday), he will tell us how he died so many thousand years ago, of the same complaint. And that gunner of ours is a fool. Would you believe it, Mr Simple, he went crying about the decks, ‘O my poor guns, what will become of them if they break loose?’ He appeared to consider it of no consequence if the ship and ship’s company were all lost, provided that his guns were safely landed on the beach.
“‘Mr Dispart,’ said I, at last, ‘allow me to observe, in the most delicate way in the world, that you’re a d—-d old fool.’ You see, Mr Simple, it’s the duty of an officer to generalise, and be attentive to parts, only in consideration of the safety of the whole. I look after my anchors and cables, as I do after the rigging; not that I care for any of them in particular, but because the safety of a ship depends upon her being well found. I might just as well cry because we sacrificed an anchor and cable yesterday morning, to save the ship from going on shore.”
“Very true, Mr Chucks,” replied I.
“Private feelings,” continued he, “must always be sacrificed for the public service. As you know, the lower deck was full of water, and all our cabins and chests were afloat; but I did not think then about my shirts, and look at them now, all blowing out in the forerigging, without a particle of starch left in the collars or the frills. I shall not be able to appear as an officer ought to do for the whole of the cruise.”
As he said this, the cooper, going forward, passed by him, and jostled him in passing. “Beg pardon, sir,” said the man, “but the ship lurched.”
“The ship lurched, did it?” replied the boatswain, who, I am afraid, was not in the best of humours about his wardrobe. “And pray, Mr Cooper, why has heaven granted you two legs, with joints at the knees, except to enable you to counteract the horizontal deviation? Do you suppose they were meant for nothing but to work round a cask with? Hark, sir, did you take me for a post to scrub your pig’s hide against? Allow me just to observe, Mr Cooper–just to insinuate, that when you pass an officer, it is your duty to keep at a respectable distance, and not to soil his clothes with your rusty iron jacket. Do you comprehend me, sir; or will this make you recollect in future?” The rattan was raised, and descended in a shower of blows, until the cooper made his escape into the head. “There, take that, you contaminating, stave-dubbing, gimlet-carrying, quintessence of a bung-hole! I beg your pardon, Mr Simple, for interrupting the conversation, but when duty calls, we must obey.”
“Very true, Mr Chucks. It’s now striking seven bells, and I must call the master–so good-by.”
Chapter XVI
News from home–A _fatigue_ party employed at Gibraltar–More particulars in the life of Mr Chucks–A brush with the enemy–A court-martial and a lasting impression.
A few days afterwards, a cutter joined us from Plymouth, with orders for the frigate to proceed forthwith to Gibraltar, where we should learn our destination. We were all very glad of this: for we had had quite enough of cruising in the Bay of Biscay; and, as we understood that we were to be stationed in the Mediterranean, we hoped to exchange gales of wind and severe weather, for fine breezes and a bright sky. The cutter brought out our letters and newspapers. I never felt more happy than I did when I found one put into my hands. It is necessary to be far from home and friends, to feel the real delight of receiving a letter. I went down into the most solitary place in the steerage, that I might enjoy it without interruption. I cried with pleasure before I opened it, but I cried a great deal more with grief, after I had read the contents–for my eldest brother Tom was dead of a typhus fever. Poor Tom! when I called to mind what tricks he used to play me–how he used to borrow my money and never pay me–and how he used to thrash me and make me obey him, because he was my eldest brother–I shed a torrent of tears at his loss; and then I reflected how miserable my poor mother must be, and I cried still more.
“What’s the matter, spooney?” said O’Brien, coming up to me. “Who has been licking you now?”
“O, nobody,” replied I; “but my eldest brother Tom is dead, and I have no other.”
“Well, Peter, I dare say that your brother was a very good brother; but I’ll tell you a secret. When you’ve lived long enough to have a beard to scrape at, you’ll know better than to make a fuss about an elder brother. But you’re a good, innocent boy just now, so I won’t thrash you for it. Come, dry your eyes, Peter, and never mind it. We’ll drink his health and long life to him, after supper, and then never think any more about it.”
I was very melancholy for a few days; but it was so delightful running down the Portuguese and Spanish coasts, the weather was so warm, and the sea so smooth, that I am afraid I forgot my brother’s death sooner than I ought to have done; but my spirits were cheered up, and the novelty of the scene prevented me from thinking. Every one, too, was so gay and happy, that I could not well be otherwise. In a fortnight, we anchored in Gibraltar Bay, and the ship was stripped to refit. There was so much duty to be done, that I did not like to go on shore. Indeed, Mr Falcon had refused some of my messmates, and I thought it better not to ask, although I was very anxious to see a place which was considered so extraordinary. One afternoon, I was looking over the gangway as the people were at supper, and Mr Falcon came up to me and said, “Well, Mr Simple, what are you thinking of?” I replied, touching my hat, that I was wondering how they had cut out the solid rock into galleries, and that they must be very curious.
“That is to say, that you are very curious to see them. Well, then, since you have been very attentive to your duty, and have not asked to go on shore, I will give you leave to go to-morrow morning and stay till gun-fire.”
I was very much pleased at this, as the officers had a general invitation to dine with the mess, and all who could obtain leave being requested to come, I was enabled to join the party. The first lieutenant had excused himself on the plea of there being so much to attend to on board; but most of the gun-room officers and some of the midshipmen obtained leave. We walked about the town and fortifications until dinner-time, and then we proceeded to the barracks. The dinner was very good, and we were all very merry; but after the dessert had been brought in, I slipped away with a young ensign, who took me all over the galleries, and explained everything to me, which was a much better way of employing my time than doing as the others did, which the reader will acknowledge. I was at the sally-port before gun-fire–the boat was there, but no officers made their appearance. The gun fired, the drawbridge was hauled up, and I was afraid that I should be blamed; but the boat was not ordered to shove off, as it was waiting for commissioned officers. About an hour afterwards, when it was quite dark, the sentry pointed his arms and challenged a person advancing with, “Who comes there?”–“Naval officer, drunk on a wheelbarrow,” was the reply, in a loud singing voice. Upon which, the sentry recovered his arms, singing in return, “Pass naval officer, drunk on a wheelbarrow–and all’s well!” and then appeared a soldier in his fatigue dress, wheeling down the third lieutenant in a wheelbarrow, so tipsy that he could not stand or speak. Then the sentry challenged again, and the answer was, “Another naval officer, drunk on a wheelbarrow;” upon which the sentry replied as before, “Pass, another naval officer, drunk on a wheelbarrow –and all’s well.” This was my friend O’Brien, almost as bad as the third lieutenant; and so they continued for ten minutes, challenging and passing, until they wheeled down the remainder of the party, with the exception of the second lieutenant, who walked arm and arm with the officer who brought down the order for lowering the drawbridge. I was much shocked, for I considered it very disgraceful; but I afterwards was told, which certainly admitted of some excuse, that the mess were notorious for never permitting any of their guests to leave the table sober. They were all safely put into the boat, and I am glad to say, the first lieutenant was in bed and did not see them; but I could not help acknowledging the truth of an observation made by one of the men as the officers were handed into the boat, “I say, Bill, if _them_ were _we_, what a precious twisting we should get to-morrow at six bells!”
The ship remained in Gibraltar Bay about three weeks, during which time we had refitted the rigging fore and aft, restowed and cleaned the hold, and painted outside. She never looked more beautiful than she did when, in obedience to our orders, we made sail to join the admiral. We passed Europa Point with a fair wind, and at sunset we were sixty miles from the Rock, yet it was distinctly to be seen, like a blue cloud, but the outline perfectly correct. I mention this, as perhaps my reader would not have believed that it was possible to see land at such a distance. We steered for Cape de Gatte, and we were next day close in shore. I was very much delighted with the Spanish coast, mountain upon mountain, hill upon hill, covered with vines nearly to their summits. We might have gone on shore at some places, for at that time we were friendly with the Spaniards, but the captain was in too great a hurry to join the admiral. We had very light winds, and a day or two afterwards we were off Valencia, nearly becalmed. I was on the gangway, looking through a telescope at the houses and gardens round the city, when Mr Chucks, the boatswain, came up to me. “Mr Simple, oblige me with that glass a moment; I wish to see if a building remains there, which I have some reason to remember.”
“What, were you ever on shore there?”
“Yes I was, Mr Simple, and nearly _stranded_, but I got off again without much damage.”
“How do you mean–were you wrecked, then?”
“Not my ship, Mr Simple, but my peace of mind was for some time; but it’s many years ago, when I was first made boatswain of a corvette (during this conversation he was looking through the telescope); yes, there it is,” said he; “I have it in the field. Look, Mr Simple, do you see a small church, with a spire of glazed tiles, shining like a needle?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Well, then, just above it, a little to the right, there is a long white house, with four small windows–below the grove of orange-trees.”
“I see it,” replied I; “but what about that house, Mr Chucks?”
“Why, thereby hangs a tale,” replied he, giving a sigh, which raised and then lowered the frill of his shirt at least six inches.
“Why, what is the mystery, Mr Chucks?”
“I’ll tell you, Mr Simple. With one who lived in that house, I was for the first, and for the last time, in love.”
“Indeed! I should like very much to hear the story.”
“So you shall, Mr Simple, but I must beg that you will not mention it, as young gentlemen are apt to quiz; and I think that being quizzed hurts my authority with the men. It is now about sixteen years back–we were then on good terms with the Spaniards, as we are now. I was then little more than thirty years old, and had just received my warrant as boatswain. I was considered a well-looking young man at that time, although lately I have, to a certain degree, got the better of that.”
“Well, I consider you a remarkably good-looking man now, Mr Chucks.”
“Thank you, Mr Simple, but nothing improves by age, that I know of, except rum. I used to dress very smart, and ‘cut the boatswain’ when I was on shore: and perhaps I had not lost so much of the polish I had picked up in good society. One evening, I was walking in the Plaza, when I saw a female ahead, who appeared to be the prettiest moulded little vessel that I ever cast my eyes on. I followed in her wake, and examined her: such a clean run I never beheld–so neat, too, in all her rigging– everything so nicely stowed under hatches. And then, she sailed along in such a style, at one moment lifting so lightly, just like a frigate, with her topsails on the caps, that can’t help going along. At another time, as she turned a corner sharp up in the wind–wake as straight as an arrow–no leeway–I made all sail to sheer alongside of her, and, when under quarter, examined her close. Never saw such a fine swell in the counter, and all so trim–no ropes towing overboard. Well, Mr Simple, I said to myself, ‘D–n it, if her figurehead and bows be finished off by the same builder, she’s perfect.’ So I shot ahead, and yawed a little–caught a peep at her through her veil, and saw two black eyes–as bright as beads, and as large as damsons. I saw quite enough, and not wishing to frighten her, I dropped astern. Shortly afterwards she altered her course, steering for that white house. Just as she was abreast of it, and I playing about her weather quarter, the priests came by in procession, taking the _host_ to somebody who was dying. My little frigate lowered her top-gallant sails out of respect, as other nations used to do, and ought now, and be d—-d to them, whenever they pass the flag of old England–”
“How do you mean?” inquired I.
“I mean that she spread her white handkerchief, which fluttered in her hand as she went along, and knelt down upon it on one knee. I did the same, because I was obliged to heave-to to keep my station, and I thought, that if she saw me, it would please her. When she got up, I was on my legs also; but in my hurry I had not chosen a very clean place, and I found out, when I got up again, that my white jean trousers were in a shocking mess. The young lady turned round, and seeing my misfortune, laughed, and then went into the white house, while I stood there like a fool, first looking at the door of the house, and then at my trousers. However, I thought that I might make it the means of being acquainted with her, so I went to the door and knocked. An old gentleman in a large cloak, who was her father, came out; I pointed to my trousers, and requested him in Spanish to allow me a little water to clean them. The daughter then came from within, and told her father how the accident had happened. The old gentleman was surprised that an English officer was so good a Christian, and appeared to be pleased. He asked me very politely to come in, and sent an old woman for some water. I observed that he was smoking a bit of paper, and having very fortunately about a couple of dozen of real Havannahs in my pocket (for I never smoke anything else, Mr Simple, it being my opinion that no gentleman can), I took them out, and begged his acceptance of them. His eyes glistened at the sight of them, but he refused to take more than one; however, I insisted upon his taking the whole bundle, telling him that I had plenty more on board, reserving one for myself, that I might smoke it with him. He then requested me to sit down, and the old woman brought some sour wine, which I declared was very good, although it made me quite ill afterwards. He inquired of me whether I was a good Christian. I replied that I was. I knew that he meant a Catholic, for they call us heretics, Mr Simple. The daughter then came in without her veil, and she was perfection; but I did not look at her, or pay her any attention after the first salutation, I was so afraid of making the old gentleman suspicious. He then asked what I was–what sort of officer– was I captain? I replied that I was not. Was I ‘tenente? which means lieutenant; I answered that I was not, again, but with an air of contempt, as if I was something better. What was I, then? I did not know the Spanish for boatswain, and, to tell the truth, I was ashamed of my condition. I knew that there was an officer in Spain called corregidor, which means a corrector in English, or one who punishes. Now I thought that quite near enough for my purpose, and I replied that I was the corregidor. Now, Mr Simple, a corregidor in Spain is a person of rank and consequence, so they imagined that I must be the same, and they appeared to be pleased. The young lady then inquired if I was of good family–whether I was a gentleman or not. I replied that I hoped so. I remained with them for half-an-hour more, when my segar was finished; I then rose, and thanking the old gentleman for his civility, begged that I might be allowed to bring him a few more segars, and took my leave. The daughter opened the street door, and I could not refrain from taking her hand and kissing it–”
“Where’s Mr Chucks? call the boatswain there forward,” hallooed out the lieutenant.
“Here I am, sir,” replied Mr Chucks, hastening aft, and leaving me and his story.
“The captain of the maintop reports the breast backstay much chafed in the serving. Go up and examine it,” said the first lieutenant.
“Yes, sir,” replied the boatswain, who immediately went up the rigging.
“And, Mr Simple, attend to the men scraping the spots off the quarter-deck.”
“Yes, sir,” replied I; and thus our conversation was broken up.
The weather changed that night, and we had a succession of rain and baffling winds for six or seven days, during which I had no opportunity of hearing the remainder of the boatswain’s history. We joined the fleet off Toulon, closed the admiral’s ship, and the captain went on board to pay his respects. When he returned, we found out, through the first lieutenant, that we were to remain with the fleet until the arrival of another frigate, expected in about a fortnight, and then the admiral had promised that we should have a cruise. The second day after we had joined, we were ordered to form part of the in-shore squadron, consisting of two line-of-battle ships and four frigates. The French fleet used to come out and manoeuvre within range of their batteries, or, if they proceeded further from the shore, they took good care that they had a leading wind to return again into port. We had been in-shore about a week, every day running close in, and counting the French fleet in the harbour, to see that they were all safe, and reporting it to the admiral by signal, when one fine morning, the whole of the French vessels were perceived to hoist their topsails, and in less than an hour they were under weigh, and came out of the harbour. We were always prepared for action, night and day, and, indeed, often exchanged a shot or two with the batteries when we reconnoitred; the in-shore squadron could not, of course, cope with the whole French fleet, and our own was about twelve miles in the offing, but the captain of the line-of-battle ship who commanded us, hove-to, as if in defiance, hoping to entice them further out. This was not very easy to do, as the French knew that a shift of wind might put it out of their power to refuse an action, which was what they would avoid, and what we were so anxious to bring about. I say we, speaking of the English, not of myself, for to tell the truth, I was not so very anxious. I was not exactly afraid, but I had an unpleasant sensation at the noise of a cannon-ball, which I had not as yet got over. However, four of the French frigates made sail towards us, and hove-to, when within four miles, three or four line-of-battle ships following them as if to support them. Our captain made signal for permission to close the enemy, which was granted, with our pennants, and those of another frigate. We immediately made all sail, beat to quarters, put out the fires, and opened the magazines. The French line-of-battle ships perceiving that only two of our frigates were sent against their four, hove-to at about the same distance from their frigates, as our line-of-battle ships and other frigates were from us. In the meantime our main fleet continued to work in shore under a press of sail, and the French main fleet also gradually approached the detached ships. The whole scene reminded me of the tournaments I had read of; it was a challenge in the lists, only that the enemy were two to one; a fair acknowledgment on their parts of our superiority. In about an hour we closed so near, that the French frigates made sail and commenced firing. We reserved our fire until within a quarter of a mile, when we poured our broadside into the headmost frigate, exchanging with her on opposite tacks. The _Sea-horse_, who followed, also gave her a broadside. In this way we exchanged broadsides with the whole four, and we had the best of it, for they could not load so fast as we could. We were both ready again for the frigates as they passed us, but they were not ready with their broadside for the _Sea-horse_, who followed us very closely, so that they had two broadsides each, and we had only four in the _Diomede_, the _Sea-horse_ not having one. Our rigging was cut up a great deal, and we had six or seven men wounded, but none killed. The French frigates suffered more, and their admiral perceiving that they were cut up a good deal, made a signal of recall. In the meantime we had both tacked, and were ranging up on the weather quarter of the sternmost frigate: the line-of-battle ships perceiving this, ran down with the wind, two points free, to support their frigates, and our in-shore squadron made all sail to support us, nearly laying up for where we were. But the wind was what is called at sea a soldier’s wind, that is, blowing so that the ships could lie either way, so as to run out or into the harbour, and the French frigates, in obedience to their orders, made sail for their fleet in-shore, the line-of-battle ships coming out to support them. But our captain would not give it up, although we all continued to near the French line-of-battle ships every minute–we ran in with the frigates, exchanging broadsides with them as fast as we could. One of them lost her foretopmast, and dropped astern, and we hoped to cut her off, but the others shortened sail to support her. This continued for about twenty minutes, when the French line-of-battle ships were not more than a mile from us, and our own commodore had made the signal of our recall, for he thought that we should be overpowered and taken. But the _Sea-horse_, who saw the recall up, did not repeat it, and our captain was determined not to see it, and ordered the signal-man not to look that way. The action continued, two of the French frigates were cut to pieces, and complete wrecks, when the French line-of-battle ships commenced firing. It was then high time to be off. We each of us poured in another broadside, and then wore round for our own squadron, which was about four miles off, and rather to leeward, standing in to our assistance. As we wore round, our main-topmast, which had been badly wounded, fell over the side, and the French perceiving this, made all sail, with the hope of capturing us; but the _Sea-horse_ remained with us, and we threw up in the wind, and raked them until they were within two cables’ lengths of us. Then we stood on for our own ships; at last one of the line-of-battle ships, which sailed as well as the frigates, came abreast of us, and poured in a broadside, which brought everything about our ears, and I thought we must be taken; but on the contrary, although we lost several men, the captain said to the first lieutenant, “Now, if they only wait a little longer, they are nabbed, as sure as fate.” Just at this moment, our own line-of-battle ships opened their fire, and then the tables were turned. The French tacked, and stood in as fast as they could, followed by the in-shore squadron, with the exception of our ship, which was too much crippled to chase them. One of their frigates had taken in tow the other, who had lost her top-mast, and our squadron came up with her very fast. The English fleet were also within three miles, standing in, and the French fleet standing out, to the assistance of the other ships which had been engaged. I thought, and so did everybody, that there would be a general action, but we were disappointed; the frigate which towed the other, finding that she could not escape, cast her off, and left her to her fate, which was to haul down her colours to the commodore of the in-shore squadron. The chase was continued until the whole of the French vessels were close under their batteries, and then our fleet returned to its station with the prize, which proved to be the _Narcisse_, of thirty-six guns, Captain Le Pelleteon. Our captain obtained a great deal of credit for his gallant behaviour. We had three men killed, and Robinson, the midshipman, and ten men wounded, some of them severely. I think this action cured me of my fear of a cannon-ball, for during the few days we remained with the fleet, we often were fired at when we reconnoitred, but I did not care anything for them. About the time she was expected, the frigate joined, and we had permission to part company. But before I proceed with the history of our cruise, I shall mention the circumstances attending a court-martial, which took place during the time that we were with the fleet, our captain having been recalled from the in-shore squadron to sit as one of the members. I was the midshipman appointed to the captain’s gig, and remained on board of the admiral’s ship during the whole of the time that the court was sitting. Two seamen, one an Englishman, and the other a Frenchman, were tried for desertion from one of our frigates. They had left their ship about three months, when the frigate captured a French privateer, and found them on board as part of her crew. For the Englishman, of course, there was no defence; he merited the punishment of death, to which he was immediately sentenced. There may be some excuse for desertion, when we consider that the seamen are taken into the service by force, but there could be none for fighting against his country. But the case of the Frenchman was different. He was born and bred in France, had been one of the crew of the French gunboats at Cadiz, where he had been made a prisoner by the Spaniards, and expecting his throat to be cut every day, had contrived to escape on board of the frigate lying in the harbour, and entered into our service, I really believe to save his life. He was nearly two years in the frigate before he could find an opportunity of deserting from her, and returning to France, when he joined the French privateer. During the time that he was in the frigate, he bore an excellent character. The greatest point against him was, that on his arrival at Gibraltar he had been offered, and had received the bounty. When the Englishman was asked what he had to say in his defence, he replied that he had been pressed out of an American ship, that he was an American born, and that he had never taken the bounty. But this was not true. The defence of the Frenchman was considered so very good for a person in his station of life, that I obtained a copy of it, which ran as follows:–
“Mr President, and Officers of the Honourable Court;–It is with the greatest humility that I venture to address you. I shall be very brief, nor shall I attempt to disprove the charges which have been made against me, but confine myself to a few facts, the consideration of which will, I trust, operate upon your feelings in mitigation of the punishment to which I may be sentenced for my fault–a fault which proceeded, not from any evil motive, but from an ardent love for my country. I am by birth a Frenchman; my life has been spent in the service of France until a few months after the revolution in Spain, when I, together with those who composed the French squadron at Cadiz, was made a prisoner. The hardships and cruel usage which I endured became insupportable. I effected my escape, and after wandering about the town for two or three days, in hourly expectation of being assassinated, the fate of too many of my unfortunate countrymen; desperate from famine, and perceiving no other chance of escaping from the town, I was reduced to the necessity of offering myself as a volunteer on board of an English frigate. I dared not, as I ought to have done, acknowledge myself to have been a prisoner, from the dread of being delivered up to the Spaniards. During the period that I served on board of your frigate, I confidently rely upon the captain and the officers for my character.
“The love of our country, although dormant for a time, will ultimately be roused, and peculiar circumstances occurred which rendered the feeling irresistible. I returned to my duty, and for having so done, am I to be debarred from again returning to that country so dear to me– from again beholding my aged parents, who bless me in my absence–from again embracing my brothers and sisters–to end my days upon a scaffold; not for the crime which I did commit in entering into your service, but for an act of duty and repentance–that of returning to my own? Allow me to observe, that the charge against me is not for entering your service, but for having deserted from it. For the former, not even my misery can be brought forward but in extenuation; for the latter I have a proud consciousness, which will, I trust, be my support in my extremity.
“Gentlemen, I earnestly entreat you to consider my situation, and I am sure that your generous hearts will pity me. Let that love of your country, which now animates your breasts, and induces you to risk your lives and your all, now plead for me. Already has British humanity saved thousands of my countrymen from the rage of the Spaniards; let that same humanity be extended now, and induce my judges to add one more to the list of those who, although our nations are at war, if they are endowed with feeling, can have but one sentiment towards their generous enemy–a sentiment overpowering all other, that of a deep-felt gratitude.”[1]
Whatever may have been the effect of the address upon the court individually, it appeared at the time to have none upon them as a body. Both the men were condemned to death, and the day after the morrow was fixed for their execution. I watched the two prisoners as they went down the side, to be conducted on board of their own ship. The Englishman threw himself down in the stern sheets of the boat, every minor consideration apparently swallowed up in the thought of his approaching end; but the Frenchman, before he sat down, observing that the seat was a little dirty, took out his silk handkerchief, and spread it on the seat, that he might not soil his nankeen trowsers.
I was ordered to attend the punishment on the day appointed. The sun shone so brightly, and the sky was so clear, the wind so gentle and mild, that it appeared hardly possible that it was to be a day of such awe and misery to the two poor men, or of such melancholy to the fleet in general. I pulled up my boat with the others belonging to the ships of the fleet, in obedience to the orders of the officer superintending, close to the fore-chains of the ship. In about half-an-hour afterwards, the prisoners made their appearance on the scaffold, the caps were pulled over their eyes, and the gun fired underneath them. When the smoke rolled away, the Englishman was swinging at the yard-arm, but the Frenchman was not; he had made a spring when the gun fired, hoping to break his neck at once, and put an end to his misery; but he fell on the edge of the scaffold, where he lay. We thought that his rope had given way, and it appeared that he did the same, for he made an enquiry, but they returned him no answer. He was kept on the scaffold during the whole hour that the Englishman remained suspended; his cap had been removed, and he looked occasionally at his fellow-sufferer. When the body was lowered down, he considered that his time was come, and attempted to leap overboard. He was restrained and led aft, where his reprieve was read to him and his arms were unbound. But the effect of the shock was too much for his mind; he fell down in a swoon, and when he recovered, his senses had left him, and I heard that he never recovered them, but was sent home to be confined as a maniac. I thought, and the result proved, that it was carried too far. It is not the custom, when a man is reprieved, to tell him so, until after he is on the scaffold, with the intention that his awful situation at the time may make a lasting impression upon him during the remainder of his life; but, as a foreigner, he was not aware of our customs, and the hour of intense feeling which he underwent was too much for his reason. I must say, that this circumstance was always a source of deep regret in the whole fleet, and that his being a Frenchman, instead of an Englishman, increased the feeling of commiseration.
[Footnote 1: This is fact.–AUTHOR.]
Chapter XVII
Mr Chucks’s opinion on proper names–He finishes his Spanish tale–March of intellect among the Warrant Officers.
We were all delighted when our signal was hoisted to “part company,” as we anticipated plenty of prize-money under such an enterprising captain. We steered for the French coast, near to its junction with Spain, the captain having orders to intercept any convoys sent to supply the French army with stores and provisions.
The day after we parted company with the fleet, Mr Chucks finished his story.
“Where was I, Mr Simple, when I left off?” said he, as we took a seat upon the long eighteen.
“You had just left the house after having told them that you were a corregidor, and had kissed the lady’s hand.”
“Very true. Well, Mr Simple, I did not call there for two or three days afterwards; I did not like to go too soon, especially as I saw the young lady every day in the Plaza. She would not speak to me, but, to make use of their expression, ‘she gave me her eyes,’ and sometimes a sweet smile. I recollect I was so busy looking at her one day, that I tripped over my sword, and nearly fell on my nose, at which she burst out a laughing.”
“Your sword, Mr Chucks? I thought boatswains never wore swords.”
“Mr Simple, a boatswain is an officer, and is entitled to a sword as well as the captain, although we have been laughed out of it by a set of midshipman monkeys. I always wore my sword at that time; but now-a-days, a boatswain is counted as nobody, unless there is hard work to do, and then it’s Mr Chucks this, and Mr Chucks that. But I’ll explain to you how it is, Mr Simple, that we boatswains have lost so much of consequence and dignity. The first lieutenants are made to do the boatswain’s duty now-a-days, and if they could only wind the call, they might scratch the boatswain’s name off half the ships’ books in his Majesty’s service. But to go on with my yarn. On the fourth day, I called with my handkerchief full of segars for the father, but he was at siesta, as they called it. The old serving-woman would not let me in at first; but I shoved a dollar between her skinny old fingers, and that altered her note. She put her old head out, and looked round to see if there was anybody in the street to watch us, and then she let me in and shut the door. I walked into the room, and found myself alone with Seraphina.”
“Seraphina!–what a fine name!”
“No name can be too fine for a pretty girl, or a good frigate, Mr Simple; for my part, I’m very fond of these hard names. Your Bess, and Poll, and Sue, do very well for the Point, or Castle Rag; but in my opinion, they degrade a lady. Don’t you observe, Mr Simple, that all our gun-brigs, a sort of vessel that will certainly d—-n the inventor to all eternity, have nothing but low common names, such as Pincher, Thrasher, Boxer, Badger, and all that sort, which are quite good enough for them; whereas all our dashing saucy frigates have names as long as the main-top bowling, and hard enough to break your jaw–such as Melpomeny, Terpsichory, Arethusy, Bacchanty–fine flourishers, as long as their pennants which dip alongside in a calm.”
“Very true,” replied I; “but do you think, then, it is the same with family names?”
“Most certainly, Mr Simple. When I was in good society, I rarely fell in with such names as Potts or Bell, or Smith or Hodges; it was always Mr Fortescue, or Mr Fitzgerald, or Mr Fitzherbert–seldom bowed, sir, to anything under _three_ syllables.”
“Then I presume, Mr Chucks, you are not fond of your own name?”
“There you touch me, Mr Simple; but it is quite good enough for a boatswain,” replied Mr Chucks, with a sigh. “I certainly did very wrong to impose upon people as I did, but I’ve been severely punished for it– it has made me discontented and unhappy ever since. Dearly have I paid for my spree; for there is nothing so miserable as to have ideas above your station in life, Mr Simple. But I must make sail again. I was three hours with Seraphina before her father came home, and during that time I never was quietly at an anchor for above a minute. I was on my knees, vowing and swearing, kissing her feet and kissing her hand, till at last I got to her lips, working my way up as regularly as one who gets in at the hawsehole and crawls aft to the cabin windows. She was very kind, and she smiled, and sighed, and pushed me off, and squeezed my hand, and was angry–frowning till I was in despair, and then making me happy again with her melting dark eyes beaming kindly, till at last she said that she would try to love me, and asked me whether I would marry her and live in Spain. I replied that I would; and, indeed, I felt as if I could, only at the time the thought occurred to me where the rhino was to come from, for I could not live, as her father did, upon a paper segar and a piece of melon per day. At all events, as far as words went, it was a settled thing. When her father came home, the old servant told him that I had just at that moment arrived, and that, his daughter was in her own room; so she was, for she ran away as soon as she heard her father knock. I made my bow to the old gentleman, and gave him the segars. He was serious at first, but the sight of them put him into good humour, and in a few minutes Donna Seraphina (they call a lady a Donna in Spain) came in, saluting me ceremoniously, as if we had not been kissing for the hour together. I did not remain long, as it was getting late, so I took a glass of the old gentleman’s sour wine, and walked off, with a request from him to call again, the young lady paying me little or no attention during the time that I remained, or at my departure.”
“Well, Mr Chucks,” observed I, “it appears to me that she was a very deceitful young person.”
“So she was, Mr Simple; but a man in love can’t see, and I’ll tell you why. If he wins the lady, he is as much in love with himself as with her, because he is so proud of his conquest. That was my case. If I had had my eyes, I might have seen that she who could cheat her old father for a mere stranger, would certainly deceive him in his turn. But if love makes a man blind, vanity, Mr Simple, makes him blinder. In short, I was an ass.”
“Never mind, Mr Chucks, there was a good excuse for it.”
“Well, Mr Simple, I met her again and again, until I was madly in love, and the father appeared to be aware of what was going on, and to have no objection. However, he sent for a priest to talk with me, and I again said that I was a good Catholic. I told him that I was in love with the young lady, and would marry her. The father made no objection on my promising to remain in Spain, for he would not part with his only daughter. And there again I was guilty of deceit, first, in making a promise I did not intend to keep, and then in pretending that I was a Catholic. Honesty is the best policy, Mr Simple, in the long run, you may depend upon it.”
“So my father has always told me, and I have believed him,” replied I.
“Well, sir, I am ashamed to say that I did worse; for the priest, after the thing was settled, asked me whether I had confessed lately. I knew what he meant, and answered that I had not. He motioned me down on my knees; but, as I could not speak Spanish enough for that, I mumbled-jumbled something or another, half Spanish and half English, and ended with putting four dollars in his hand for _carita_, which means charity. He was satisfied at the end of my confession, whatever he might have been at the beginning, and gave me absolution, although he could not have understood what my crimes were; but four dollars, Mr Simple, will pay for a deal of crime in that country. And now, sir, comes the winding up of this business. Seraphina told me that she was going to the opera with some of her relations, and asked me if I would be there; that the captain of the frigate, and all the other officers were going, and that she wished me to go with her. You see, Mr Simple, although Seraphina’s father was so poor, that a mouse would have starved in his house, still he was of good family, and connected with those who were much better off. He was a Don himself, and had fourteen or fifteen long names, which I forget now. I refused to go with her, as I knew that the service would not permit a boatswain to sit in an opera-box, when the captain and first lieutenant were there. I told her that I had promised to go on board and look after the men while the captain went on shore; thus, as you’ll see, Mr Simple, making myself a man of consequence, only to be more mortified in the end. After she had gone to the opera, I was very uncomfortable: I was afraid that the captain would see her, and take a fancy to her. I walked up and down, outside, until I was so full of love and jealousy that I determined to go into the pit and see what she was about. I soon discovered her in a box, with some other ladies, and with them were my captain and first lieutenant. The captain, who spoke the language well, was leaning over her, talking and laughing, and she was smiling at what he said. I resolved to leave immediately, lest she should see me and discover that I had told her a falsehood; but they appeared so intimate that I became so jealous I could not quit the theatre. At last she perceived me, and beckoned her hand; I looked very angry, and left the theatre cursing like a madman. It appeared that she pointed me out to the captain, and asked him who I was; he told her my real situation on board, and spoke of me with contempt. She asked whether I was not a man of family; at this the captain and first lieutenant both burst out laughing, and said that I was a common sailor who had been promoted to a higher rank for good behaviour–not exactly an officer, and anything but a gentleman. In short, Mr Simple, I was _blown upon_, and, although the captain said more than was correct, as I learnt afterwards through the officers, still I deserved it. Determined to know the worst, I remained outside till the opera was over, when I saw her come out, the captain and first lieutenant walking with the party–so that I could not speak with her. I walked to a posada (that’s an inn), and drank seven bottles of rosolio to keep myself quiet; then I went on board, and the second lieutenant, who was commanding officer, put me under arrest for being intoxicated. It was a week before I was released; and you can’t imagine what I suffered, Mr Simple. At last, I obtained leave to go on shore, and I went to the house to decide my fate. The old woman opened the door, and then calling me a thief, slammed it in my face; as I retreated, Donna Seraphina came to the window, and, waving her hand with a contemptuous look, said, ‘Go, and God be with you, Mr Gentleman.’ I returned on board in such a rage, that if I could have persuaded the gunner to have given me a ball cartridge, I should have shot myself through the head. What made the matter worse, I was laughed at by everybody in the ship, for the captain and first lieutenant had made the story public.”
“Well, Mr Chucks,” replied I, “I cannot help being sorry for you, although you certainly deserved to be punished for your dishonesty. Was that the end of the affair?”
“As far as I was concerned it was, Mr Simple; but not as respected others. The captain took my place, but without the knowledge of the father. After all, they neither had great reason to rejoice at the exchange.”
“How so, Mr Chucks–what do you mean?”
“Why, Mr Simple, the captain did not make an honest woman of her, as I