A common-place person would have stopped short there; but this judicious officer was of a different stamp—and I have often lamented, since those days, that he did not live to receive the grateful acknowledgments experience has taught me were his due, for this and many other lessons which at that time I could not justly appreciate.
It was his practice every evening, just before going to bed, to give to the mate of the watch a written order of what he wished executed in the course of the night, or early in the morning; and many an injunction, it may be supposed, his little neatly-bound order-book contained against the particular kind of delinquency above noticed. On the present occasion, however, the night orders consisted of these words only:—
“Mr. Hall is the only gentleman who attends to his duty on the poop.”
It was needless to point more distinctly, even to the youngest squeaker amongst us, how adroitly the scales of justice and good sense were balanced in this case. On my side, it was quite clear I had no business wantonly to cast away another man’s property, merely because that property was not in its right place; and accordingly I was compelled to make full restitution. This, of itself, was a considerable censure. But as the fault really arose from disinterested zeal, in furthering the objects of the service, the first lieutenant, by one of those well-timed notes of approbation, which bind inferiors to their duty far more strongly than punishments ever deter them from neglecting it, took care to improve the lesson to my advantage, by putting his official sense of that zeal upon record. Small as the incident was, there are few things which have since happened, that have given me more permanent satisfaction than this slight, passing notice. From the strong manner, also, in which it disposed me to esteem the person who thus distinguished me, I can understand the secret by which great commanders rivet the affections and secure the best services of the people about them. The opposite course, it should not be forgotten, holds still more true. While half a dozen words, such as these, written at the proper time, may fix the gratitude of a whole life, a single careless word, spoken at the wrong season, or in the wrong tone of voice, though perhaps void of hurtful intention, will often rankle for years, and permanently estrange men from one another, who might otherwise be truly attached.
The excellent officer above alluded to, I am grieved to say, was lost to the service a few years afterwards. When lieutenant of the Conqueror in 1808, on her passage to Lisbon, he, and about half the ship’s company, were seized with ophthalmia. He never fully recovered his sight, and, though eventually promoted to the rank of commander, he was not able to serve long, and finally became stone-blind. He still, however, expected his post promotion with so much anxiety, that when he found the Admiralty passed him over, the disappointment preyed so deeply on his mind, once so vigorous, that it broke to pieces! His intellects were literally destroyed, by the mere denial of an honour which must have been purely nominal, as he never could have gone afloat. Had he but retained his sight, however, he would, in all probability, have now been one of the most valuable officers in his majesty’s service. But his fate was different, and he died blind, insane, and broken-hearted!
I have already mentioned, I think, that I was very little for my age, and somewhat impatient in disposition, and, further, that I spoke the hideous patois of Edinburgh, with the delectable accompaniment of the burr of Berwick. These circumstances, which ought, perhaps, to have excited pity, acted and reacted upon one another somewhat to my disadvantage, and in no very agreeable style.
In addition to other sources of annoyance, I was more than usually subject to sea-sickness whenever there was the least breeze of wind, and about once a-week was pestered with the toothache. In the midst of these mortifications, I reckoned with confidence on the support of my own countrymen, of whom there were several amongst the elder mids—an error into which I was led by having often heard of the way in which Scotchmen hang together in foreign parts. But these wicked fellows, though very truly my friends, were not always disposed to aid and assist me in the precise way I wished; and young folks, as well as their seniors, do not like to be obliged except on their own terms. I had also unluckily taken it into my head that I spoke English with remarkable purity—a sad mistake! Upon one occasion I missed some money; and a brother-mid seeing me in distress, asked what was the matter.
“Oh,” said I, “I have tint a half-guinea.”
“Tint!” cried the other, “what’s that?”
At this moment one of my quizzing countrymen happening to pass, and hearing the question, burst into a laugh, and explained, that ‘tint,’ being interpreted, meant ‘lost;’ adding, “none but Sawney from the north” would have used such a barbarous word, unknown in England.