Chapter Twenty Nine.
Ralph is shipped, hulked, and overcome—A dark hall and an ebony servitor—A tailor’s politeness, and a master’s mate, who sighs to be mated yet does not see that he is outmatched.
I found the Eos all rigged and strong in the breeze, with the not very agreeable aroma of dockyard paint. The ship’s company was not, however, on board of her. They were hulked on board of the Pegasus. A very brief introduction to the officers of the watch, and I was shown down with my sea-chest, my shore-going trunk, and quadrant, cocked-hat, etcetera, to the midshipmen’s berth in the hulk. One of the after-guard performed for me the office of gentleman-usher. It was a gloomy, foggy, chilly day, and the damp of the atmosphere was mingled with the reeking, dank, animal effluvia that came up, thick and almost tangible, from the filthy receptacle of crowded hundreds.
As I descended into darkness, and nearly felt overpowered by the compound of villainous smells, I was something more than sick at heart. My pioneer at length lifted up the corner of a piece of dirty canvas, that screened off a space of about six feet square from the rest of the ship’s company. This I was given to understand was the young gentlemen’s quarters, their dining-room and their drawing-room combined. Even I, who had not yet attained my full growth, could not stand erect in this saloon of elegance. I am stating nothing but literal facts. On an oaken table, still more greasy than the greasy decks over which I had slipped in my passage to this den, stood a flickering, spluttering, intensely yellow candle of very slender dimensions, inserted in a black quart bottle. Beside it was placed a battered bread-basket, containing some broken biscuit; and a piece of villainously-scented cheese, distinguished by the name of purser’s, lay near it, in company with an old, blood-stained, worn-out tooth-brush, and a shallow pewter wash-hand basin, filled with horridly dirty water. For seats round this table there were no other substitutes than various chests of various dimensions.
Of such sordid penury as I then witnessed I had read, but never supposed I should be compelled to witness, much less to share. Notwithstanding the closeness of this hole, it was excessively cold. There was not a soul there to welcome me, the petty officers being all away on dockyard duty. It might have been ten o’clock when I was first ushered into this region of darkness, of chill and evil odours. I remained with my surtout coat on, sitting on my chest with my hands clasped before me, stiff with cold, and melancholy almost to tears. How much then I panted for the breeze that blew over the heathy common where I had lately wantoned, leaped, and laughed!
As I there sat, I fell into a deep and dream-like reverie. I could not after a pause convince myself that all I saw around me was real. The light that the single unsnuffed candle gave, became more dim and smoky. I began to think that my spirit had most surely stepped into the vestibule of the abode of shadows; and I wished to convince myself that my body was far, far away sleeping in a pure atmosphere, and under a friendly roof. Minute after minute cropped its weight heavily, like so many pellets of lead, upon my disordered brain. I became confused—perhaps I was nearly upon the point of syncope from the sudden change to bad air. I felt that all I saw about me, if not real, would prove that I was mad; and I feared that I should become so if the scene turned out to be no illusion. At last I jumped up, as I felt my stupor and my sickness increasing, exclaiming—“This is hell—and there’s the devil!” as I observed a hideous shining black face peering at me over the top of the screen, grinning in such a manner, with a row of white teeth, that reminded me of so many miniature tombstones stretching right across a dark churchyard.
“No debbel, sar—my name, sar, Lillydew—vat you please vant, sar?—steward to young gentlemen, sar. Will young massa have a lily-white bit soft tommy, sar,—broil him a sodger, sar—bumboat alongside, get a fresh herring for relish, sar.”
“Get me a little fresh air—take me upstairs.”
“O Gemminnie! hi! hi! hi!—young gentleman, Massa Johnny Newcome. This way, sar.”
Conducted by this angel of darkness, I regained the deck and daylight, and the nausea soon left my chest and the pain my head. I then made this reflection, that whatever glory a naval officer may attain, if he went through the ordeal I was about essaying, he richly deserved it. The captain and some of the other officers now came on board. I was introduced to most of them, and the skipper made himself very merry with an account of my recent adventure with the master’s mate, who was still at the mast-head, as a convincing proof of the accuracy of the story, and was plainly distinguishable some half-mile higher up the Medway.
I soon entered into conversation with one of the young gentlemen who was destined to be, for so long, my messmate. I told him that the air below would kill me. He acknowledged that it was bad enough to kill a dog, but that a reefer could stand it. He also advised me not to have my uniforms altered by the ship’s tailors, as it would be done in a bungling manner; but to get leave to go on shore, and that he would introduce me to a very honest tradesman, who would do me justice. I expressed my hopes to him, in a dry manner, that he did not belong to the regiment of horse marines. He understood me, and said, upon his honour, no: that it was all fair and above board; and as a recommendation, which he thought would be irresistible, he added that this tailor had a very pretty daughter, with the very pretty name of Jemima.
As the latter information was very satisfactory evidence as to the skill and honesty of the tradesman, I could not be guilty of such a non sequitur as not to promise to employ him. I then told him to make haste and come on shore with me. I now was made painfully sensible that, before I could enjoy my wishes, a little ceremony was needful; in fact, that my powers of locomotion were no longer under my own control, excepting for about one hundred and twenty feet in one direction, and about thirty-five in another. As I was passing over the starboard side of the quarter-deck, to ask leave to go on shore, the captain accosted me, and did me the honour to request my company to dinner at his table. Finding him in so bland a humour, I preferred my request to live on shore till the ship sailed. He smiled at the enormity of my demand, and asked what induced it. I frankly told him the filth and bad smell of my accommodations; and also my wish not to be seen on board until my uniforms were complete.
“He’s an original,” said the captain to the first-lieutenant, “but there is some sense in his request. I suppose you have no objection, Mr Farmer? Young gentleman,” he continued, turning to me, “you must always ask the first-lieutenant, in future, for leave. Mind, don’t be later than four o’clock.”
My messmate, with all manner of humility, now made his request, which being granted, we went down together to my chest, and making a bundle of all the clothes that required alteration, we placed that and ourselves in a shore-boat, and made our way to the tailor’s. I was there introduced to the lovely Jemima. She looked like a very pretty doll, modelled with crumbs of white bread; she was so soft, so fair, and so unmeaning. After the order was given, my maker of the outward man hazarded a few inquiries, in a manner so kind and so obliging, that quite made me lose sight of their impertinence. When he found that I had leave to remain on shore, and that my pocket-book was far from being ill-furnished, he expatiated very feelingly upon the exactions of living at inns, offered me a bed for nothing, provided only that I would pay for my breakfast, and appoint him my tailor in ordinary; and declared that he would leave no point unturned to make me comfortable and happy. As this conversation took place in the little parlour at the back of the shop, Jemima—Miss Jemima—was present, and, as I seemed to hesitate, the innocent-looking dear slily came up beside me, and, taking my hand, pressed it amorously, stealing at me a look with eyes swimming with a strange expression. This by-play decided the business. The agreement was made, the terms being left entirely to Mr Tapes. Covering my inappropriate dress with my blue surtout, I was about leaving with my messmate, when the young lady said to her father, “Perhaps Mr Rattlin would like to see his room before he goes out?”
“Not particularly.”
“Oh, but you must. You may come in, and I and the servant may be out. This way—you must not come up, Mr Pridhomme, your boots are so abominably dirty. There, isn’t it a nice room?—you pretty, pretty boy,” said she, jumping up, and giving me a long kiss, that almost took my breath away. “Don’t tell old leather-chops, will you, and I shall love you so.”
“Who is old leather-chops—your father?”
“Dear me, no; never mind him. I mean your messmate, Mr Pridhomme.”
“I’m stepping into life,” thought I, as I went downstairs, “and with no measured strides either.”
“What do you think of Jemima?” said Mr Pridhomme, as we walked arm-in-arm towards the ramparts.
“Pretty.”
“Pretty!—why she’s an angel! If there was ever an angel on earth, it is Jemima Tapes. But what is mere beauty? Nothing compared to sincerity and innocence—she is all innocence and sincerity.”
“I am glad that you believe so.”
“Believe so—why, look at her! She is all innocence. She won’t let her father kiss her.”
“Why?”
“She says it is so indelicate.”
“How does she know what is, or what is not, indelicate?”
“Damn it, younker, you’d provoke a saint. She assures me when she is forced to shake hands with a grown-up man, that it actually gives her a cold shudder all over. I don’t think that she ever kissed anybody but her mother, and that was years ago.”
“Perhaps she does not know how.”
“I’m sure she don’t. If I had a fortune, I’d marry her tomorrow, only I’m afraid she’s too modest.”
“Your fear is very commendable. Are the ladies at Chatham so remarkable for modesty?”
“No; and that’s what makes Jemima so singular.”
I like to make people happy, if they are not so; and if they are, even though that happiness may be the creation of a delusion, I like to leave them so. I, therefore, encouraged Mr Pridhomme to pour all his raptures into, what he thought, an approving ear, and Jemima was the theme, until he left me at the door of the hotel at which I was to dine with Captain Reud. Whatever the reader may think of Jemima, I was, at this period, perfectly innocent myself, though not wholly ignorant. I should have deemed Miss Jemima’s osculatory art as the mere effect of high spirits and hoyden playfulness, had it not been for the hypocrisy that she was displaying towards my messmate. I had translated Gil Blas at school, and I therefore set her down for an intrepid coquette, if not une franche aventurière. However, though I pitied my messmate, that was no reason why I should not enjoy my dinner.
That day I liked my little saffron-coloured captain much better. He played the host very agreeably. He made as many inquiries as he dared, without too much displaying his own ignorance, as to the extent of my acquirements; and, when he found them so far beyond his expectations, he seemed to be struck with a sudden respect for me. The tone of his conversation was more decorous than that of the preceding evening; he gave me a great deal of nautical advice, recommended me to the protection particularly of the first and second lieutenants, who were also his guests, approved of my plan of sleeping at the tailor’s, and dismissed me very early, no doubt with a feeling of pleasure at having removed a restraint; for, as I left the room, I just caught the words—“Make a damned sea-lawyer, by-and-by.”