Chapter Eighteen.
Although I have so much to say as to oblige me to pass over without notice the majority of my companions, I think I ought to dedicate one chapter to a more particular description of those with whom I was now principally in contact on board of the Calliope.
I have already spoken much of the Honourable Captain Delmar, but I must describe him more particularly. When young, he must have been a very handsome man; even now, although nearly fifty years of age, and his hair and whiskers a little mixed with grey, he was a fine-looking personage, of florid complexion, large blue eyes, nose and mouth very perfect: in height he was full six feet; and he walked so erect that he looked even taller.
There was precision, I may say dignity, in all his motions. If he turned to you, it was slowly and deliberately; there was nothing like rapidity in his movement. On the most trifling occasions, he wrapped himself up in etiquette with all the consequence of a Spanish Hidalgo; and showed in almost every action and every word that he never forgot his superiority of birth.
No one, except myself, perhaps, would ever have thought of taking a liberty with him; for although there was a pomposity about him, at the same time it was the pomposity of a high-bred gentleman, who respected himself, and expected every one to do the same.
That sometimes a little mirth was occasioned by his extreme precision is true; but it was whispered, not boldly indulged in. As to his qualities as an officer and seaman, I shall only say, that they were considered more than respectable. Long habit of command had given him a fair knowledge of the duties in the first instance, and he never condescended (indeed, it would have been contrary to his character) to let the officers or seamen know whether he did or did not know anything about the second.
As to his moral character, I can only say, that it was very difficult to ascertain it. That he would never do that which was in the slightest degree derogatory to the character of a gentleman was most certain: but he was so wrapped up in exclusiveness, that it was almost impossible to estimate his feelings. Occasionally, I may say very rarely, he might express them; but if he did, it was but for a moment, and he was again reserved as before.
That he was selfish is true; but who is not? and those in high rank are still more so than others, not so much by nature, but because their self is encouraged by those around them. You could easily offend his pride but he was above being flattered in a gross way. I really believe that the person in the ship for whom he had the least respect was the obsequious Mr Culpepper. Such was the Honourable Captain Delmar.
Mr Hippesley, the first lieutenant, was a broad-shouldered, ungainly-looking personage. He had more the appearance of a master in the service than a first lieutenant. He was a thorough seaman; and really, for a first lieutenant, a very good-natured man. All that was requisite, was to allow his momentary anger to have free escape by the safety-valve of his mouth: if you did not, an explosion was sure to be the result.
He was, as we use the term at sea, a regular ship husband—that is to say, he seldom put his foot on shore; and if he did, he always appeared anxious to get on board again. He was on good terms, but not familiar, with his messmates, and very respectful to the captain. There was no other officer in the service who would have suited Captain Delmar so well as Mr Hippesley, who, although he might occasionally grumble at not being promoted, appeared on the whole to be very indifferent about the matter.
The men were partial to him, as they always are to one who, whatever may be his peculiarities, is consistent. Nothing is more unpleasant to men than to sail under a person whom, to use their own expression, “they never knew where to find.”
The second and third lieutenants, Mr Percival and Mr Weymss, were young men of good family, and were admitted to a very slight degree of familiarity with Captain Delmar: they were of gentlemanly manners, both good seamen, and kind to their inferiors.
Mr Culpepper, the purser, was my abomination—a nasty, earwigging, flattering, bowing old rogue. The master, Mr Smith, was a very quiet man, plain and unoffending, but perfectly master of, and always attentive to, his duty.
The marine officer, Mr Tusk, was a nonentity put into a red jacket. The surgeon was a tall, and very finicking sort of gentleman as to dress; but well informed, friendly in disposition, and perfectly acquainted with his profession.
My messmates were most of them young men of good birth, with the exception of Tommy Dott, who was the son of a warrant officer, and Mr Green, whose father was a boot-maker in London. I shall not, however, waste my reader’s time upon them; they will appear when required. I shall, therefore, now proceed with my narrative.
It is usually the custom for the midshipmen to take up provisions and spirits beyond their allowance, and pay the purser an extra sum for the same; but this Mr Culpepper would not permit—indeed, he was the most stingy and disagreeable old fellow that I ever met with in the service. We never had dinner or grog enough, or even lights sufficient for our wants.
We complained to the first lieutenant, but he was not inclined to assist us: he said we had our allowance, and it was all we could demand; that too much grog was bad for us, and as for candles, they only made us sit up late when we ought to be in bed: he was, moreover, very strict about the lights being put out. This, however, was the occasion of war to the knife between the midshipmen and Mr Culpepper.
But it was of no avail; he would seldom trust his own steward or the mate of the main deck; whenever he could, he superintended the serving out of all provisions and mixing of the grog: no wonder that he was said to be a rich man. The only party to whom he was civil was Mr Hippesley, the first lieutenant, and the captain; both of whom had the power of annoying him, and reducing his profits.
To the captain he was all humility; every expense that he required was, with his proffered bow, cheerfully submitted to; but he gained on the whole by this apparent liberality, as the captain was rather inclined to protect him in all other points of service, except those connected with his own comforts and luxuries; and many a good job did Mr Culpepper get done for him, by humbly requesting and obsequiously bowing.
We had been at sea for about a week, and were running down towards the island of Madeira, which we expected to reach the next morning. Our destination was a secret, as our captain sailed with sealed orders, to be opened when off that island.
The weather was very fine and warm, and the wind had fallen, when at sundown high land was reported from the mast-head, at about forty miles distant. I was, as on the former cruise, signal midshipman, and did day duty—that is, I went down with the sun, and kept no night watch.
I had been cogitating how I could play some trick to Mr Culpepper: the midshipmen had often proposed that we should do so, but I had made up my mind that, whenever I did, I would make no confidant. Tommy Dott often suggested an idea, but I invariably refused, as a secret is only a secret when it is known to one person: for that reason I never consulted Bob Cross, because I knew that he would have persuaded me not to do so; but after anything was happily executed, I then used to confide in him.
I observed before that Mr Culpepper wore a flaxen wig, and I felt sure, from his penuriousness, that he was not likely to have more than one on board. I, therefore, fixed upon his wig as the object of my vengeance, and having made up my mind on the night that we made the island of Madeira, I determined to put my project in execution.
For convenience, the first lieutenant had a small ladder which went down through the skylight of the gun-room so that they could descend direct, instead of going round by the after-hatchway, and entering by the gun-room doors, where the sentry was placed.
I went to my hammock and slept till the middle watch was called; I then got up and dressed myself without being perceived.
As soon as the lieutenant of the middle watch had been called by the mate, who lighted his candle and left him to dress himself, I came up by the after-ladder, and, watching an opportunity when the sentry at the captain’s cabin door had walked forward, I softly descended by the skylight ladder into the gun-room.
The light in the cabin of the lieutenant, who was dressing, was quite sufficient, and the heat of the weather was so great, that all the officers slept with their cabin doors fastened back, for ventilation; I had, therefore, no difficulty in putting my hand on the purser’s wig, with which I escaped unperceived, and immediately turned in again to my hammock, to consider what I should do with my prize.
Should I throw it overboard; should I stuff it down the pump-well, or slip it into the ship’s coppers, that it might re-appear when the pea-soup was baled out or dinner; or should I put it into the manger forward, where the pigs were?
In the meantime, while I was considering the matter, the midshipman of the first watch came down and turned in, and all was again quiet, except an occasional nasal melody from some heavy sleeper.
At last, quite undecided, I peeped through the clews of my hammock to see what the sentry at the gun-room door was about, and found that he had sat down on a chest, and was fast asleep. I knew immediately that the man was in my power, and I did not fear him; and then it was that the idea came into my head, that I would singe the purser’s wig. I went softly to the sentry’s light, took it from the hook, and went down with it into the cockpit, as being the best place for carrying on my operations. The wig was very greasy, and every curl, as I held it in the candle, flared up, and burned beautifully to within a quarter of an inch of the caul.
It was soon done, and I replaced the sentry’s light; and finding that the gun-room door was a-jar, I went in softly, and replaced the wig where I had taken it from, repassed the sentry, who was still fast asleep, and regained my hammock, intending to undress myself in it; but I had quite forgotten one thing (I was soon reminded of it)—I heard the voice of the officer of the watch I calling out to the sentry at the cabin door—
“Sentry, what’s that smell of burning?”
“I don’t know, sir,” replied the sentry; “I was just thinking of going forward for the ship’s corporal.”
The smell, which had gradually ascended from the cockpit, now spread from deck to deck, and became stronger and stronger. The gun-room-door sentry jumped up at the voice of the lieutenant, and called out that there was a very strong smell in the cockpit. The lieutenant and mate of the watch came down, and it was immediately supposed that the spirit-room had caught fire, for the smell was really very powerful.
The first lieutenant, who had wakened up at the voices, was out in a minute; he put his head over the cockpit, and ordering the officer of the watch to call the drummer, and beat to quarters, ran up to inform the captain.
The drummer was out in a moment, and, seizing his drum, which hung up by the mainmast, ran up in his shirt and beat the tattoo.
The whole ship’s company rose up at the sound, which they knew was the signal for something important; and the beat of the drum was followed up by the shrill piping of the boatswain’s mates at each hatchway.
At that moment, some frightened man belonging to the watch cried out that the ship was on fire, and the lower decks were immediately a scene of bustle and confusion.
Perhaps there is nothing more awful than the alarm of fire at sea; the feeling that there is no escape—the only choice being by which element, fire or water, you choose to perish. But if it is awful in daylight, how much more so is it to be summoned up to await such peril when you have been sleeping in fancied bounty.
The captain had hurried on his clothes, and stood on the quarter-deck. He was apparently calm and collected; but, as usual, the first lieutenant carried on the duty, and well he did it.
“Where’s the gunner? Mr Hutt, bring up the keys from my cabin, and have all ready for clearing the magazines if required. Firemen, get your buckets to bear; carpenters, rig the pumps. Silence there, fore and aft.”
But the confusion became very great, and there evidently was a panic. The captain then interposed, calling out to the boatswain and his mates to send every man aft on the quarter-deck.
This order was obeyed; the men came thronging like a flock of sheep, huddling together and breathless.
“Silence there, my men,” cried Captain Delmar—“silence. I say; is this the conduct of men-of-war’s-men? Every man of you sit down on deck—pass the word there for every man to sit down.”
The order was mechanically obeyed, and as soon as the ship’s company were all seated, the captain said—
“I tell you what, my lads, I’m ashamed of you: the way to put out a fire is to be cool and calm, obeying orders and keeping silence. Now collect yourselves, all of you, for until you are all quiet and cool, you will sit where you are.”
After a pause of a few seconds—
“Now, my men, are you more steady? Recollect, be cool, and keep silence. Carpenter, are the pumps rigged?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the carpenter.
“Now, firemen, go for your buckets; let nobody else move. Silence—not a word: three foremast guns main-deck, to your quarters. Silence and quiet, if you please. Now, are you all steady?—then, to your quarters, my men, and wait for orders.”
It was astonishing how collected the ship’s company became by the judicious conduct of the captain, who now continued to command. When the men had gone down to their stations, he directed the two junior lieutenants to go and examine where the fire was, and to be careful not to lift the hatches if they discovered that it was in the spirit-room.
I had been on the quarter-deck some time, and, being aware of the cause, of course was not at all alarmed: and I had exerted myself very assiduously in keeping the men cool and quiet, shoving the men down who were unwilling to sit down on the deck, and even using them very roughly; showing a great deal more sang froid than any other of the officers, which of course was not to be wondered at.
Mr Culpepper, who was most terribly alarmed, had come up on deck, and stood trembling close to the side of the captain and first lieutenant; he had pulled on his wig without discovering that it had been burnt, and as I passed him, the burnt smell was very strong indeed; so thought the captain and the first lieutenant, who were waiting the return of the officers.
“I smell the fire very strong just now,” said the captain to the first lieutenant.
“Yes, sir, every now and then it is very strong,” replied the first lieutenant.
The purser’s wig was just between them,—no wonder that they smelt it. After two or three minutes the officers came up, and reported that they could discover no fire, and that there was very little smell of fire down below.
“And yet I smell it now,” said Captain Delmar.
“So do I, sir,” said the second lieutenant; “and it really smells stronger on deck than it does down below.”
“It’s very odd; let them continue the search.”
The search was continued; the first lieutenant now going down, and after a time they said that the strongest smell was from the purser’s cabin.
“Mr Culpepper, they say the smell is in your cabin,” said Captain Delmar; “go down, if you please; they may want to open your lockers.”
Mr Culpepper, who still trembled like an aspen, went down the ladder, and I followed him; but in descending the second ladder his foot slipped, and he fell down the hatchway to the lower deck.
I hastened down after him; he was stunned, and I thought this a good opportunity to pull off his wig, which I did very dexterously, and concealed it. He was taken into the gun-room, and the surgeon called, while I walked up on deck, and quietly dropped the wig overboard at the gangway.
My reason for doing this was, that having no idea that my trick would have created so much confusion, and have turned up the officers and men as it did, I thought that the purser’s wig would, the next morning, account for the smell of fire, and an investigation take place, which, although it might not lead to discovery, would certainly lead to suspicion; so the wig was now floating away, and with the wig went away all evidence.
After a search of nearly half an hour, nothing was discovered; the drummer was ordered to beat the retreat, and all was quiet again.
I went to bed quite satisfied with the events of the night, and slept the sleep of innocence—at least I slept just as soundly.
This mysterious affair ever remained a mystery: the only loss was the purser’s wig, but that was nothing, as Mr Culpepper acknowledged that he did not know himself what he was about, and, for all he knew to the contrary, he might have thrown it overboard.
My conduct on this occasion again gained me great credit. It had been remarked by the captain and officers, and I rose in estimation. How I might have behaved had I really supposed that the ship was on fire, is quite another affair—I presume not quite so fearlessly. As it was, I was resolved to take all the credit given to me and for that reason it was not till a long while afterwards, that I hinted the secret even to Bob Cross.