As it was impossible to get the gun-boat afloat, we tarred her sails and set fire to her. We should have blown her up had not her powder been under water. She mounted a long eighteen-pounder on a traverse, and six long six-pounders on her quarter-deck. She was of great length and a formidable vessel, and we much regretted our not being able to get her afloat, as she would have answered for the Service. She had also four brass swivels mounted on her gunwales, which we took in the boats. After waiting until she had nearly burnt down to the water’s edge, we returned to our ships, taking with us the wounded Spanish dragoon. Soon after we were on our oars the martello tower began blazing away at us. It had hitherto been silent, but we supposed that when the run-away dragoons perceived we were withdrawing, they returned and mounted the tower to give us a parting salute. They might have spared themselves the trouble, as it had only one gun, and that badly served. We were on board our own ships before they fired the fourth shot. “Well,” said the captain, on my reaching the quarter-deck, “you were not [pg 163]able to get the vessel off.” “No,” I replied; “she was scuttled, and sank before we boarded her.” “Were her guns brass or iron?” “Iron,” said I, “and not worth bringing on board; there were four brass one-pound swivels, but those were taken by the lieutenant of the commodore’s boat, and he ungenerously claimed the red flag I had hauled down, but I refused to give it up.” Whilst this conversation was going on, a boat from the Alarm came alongside with a midshipman and a written order from the commodore for me to give up, no longer the flag of defiance but that of dispute. “I think,” said the captain, “you had better comply with the order.” On seeing my disinclination to do so, he said, “It is not worth contending about.” “I believe, sir,” I replied, “you are right. It is of too childish a nature to contend about, although I cannot help considering it arbitrary, and I am surprised that a man like Captain D. could ever give such an unjust order.” “There are many men of various minds,” said he. There the disagreeable conversation ended. The mid received the piece of red bunting, and I walked the deck as surly as a bear with the Caledonian rash. The captain, who was going to dine with Captain A., told me he would explain to him anything I wished respecting what had occurred. This I declined, but I mentioned the swivels, and told him that they were very handy to mount in the boats when going on service. “I will ask him for two of them,” said he; “by doing this I probably may get one. You know,” [pg 164]continued he, laughing, “he is from the Land of Cakes and bannocks, where the device is ‘To hold fast and not let go.’”
In the evening the captain returned on board, bringing in the boat one of the swivels. “I have laid a point to windward of the Highlander,” said he to me; “but I was obliged to make use of all my best logic, for he chose to be distressingly deaf on the subject of giving. But when I mentioned that I had a canister of real Scotch which was of no use to me, as I had left off taking snuff, his ears became instantly opened. ‘You said something about two swivels, I think,’ said he; ‘I cannot spare you two, but I will give you one. Will you take it in your boat with you, or I will send it in our jolly boat, and as I am nearly out of snuff, you can spare me the canister you mentioned that you do not need.’” “This puts me in mind,” said I, “of an Irish pilot who asked the purser of a ship I formerly belonged to, to spare him an empty barrel to make his pig a hencoop, and he would give him a sack of praters for nothing at all, at all.” “The case is nearly in point,” replied the captain; “I am afraid I have not gained so much on his weather-beam as I first imagined.” The signal was now made to weigh, and we were soon under sail. Next morning we parted company with the frigates, swept the Bay of Mexico, ran through the Turks’ Island passage, and cruised between Capes Maize and François for three weeks; took a small French schooner with tobacco, and burnt a small [pg 165]sloop in ballast. Again our anchor found the bottom of Port Royal, and the crew their copper and jet-coloured ladies.
One afternoon, taking a glass of sangaree at the tavern, I was accosted by one of our late mids who had come on shore with some others to what he called wet his commission. “Will you do me the favour to join us for a quarter of an hour. We have a room upstairs,” said he to me. I told him I would in about five minutes. On entering, I found a gallon bowl filled with strong punch, with his commission soaking in it, and eight jolly mids sitting at the table in full glee. They all rose as I approached, and one of them offered me a chair. “Come, sir,” said the donor of the entertainment, offering me a bumper from the contents of the bowl, “tell me if it will suit your taste.” “Not quite,” replied I, “you have spoilt it by putting your commission into it instead of your pocket, and it smacks too much of ink and parchment.” “I told you how it would be,” said he, addressing a sly, roguish-looking youngster, who had persuaded him to put it in. “I vote that he shall drink it himself, and we will have another.” “Not on any account,” said I, “without you will allow me to pay for it.” “That will never do,” cried all of them. Another of a smaller size was ordered, out of which I drank his success. I remained nearly half an hour, during which time the large bowl was drained to the last dregs in spite of its parchment flavour, and the [pg 166]parchment was, what the mids called, returned high and dry to the owner of it, with the writing on it nearly effaced. I remarked they ought certainly to have a patent for wetting commissions, and wished them a pleasant evening.
On returning on board I found a note for me from the captain, to acquaint me that we were to sail in a few days for Black River, in order to collect a homeward-bound convoy, as we were ordered to England. I withdrew my heart from the different little snug rooms I had left it in, and placed it on the right hook. I was so much elated that my dinner went from table untouched. I kept conjuring up Paradises, Elysian fields, and a number of other places never heard of, inhabited by women more beautiful than Eastern imagery can possibly describe—so fair, so chaste, so lovely, and so domestic. “Oh!” said I aloud, to the astonishment of my messmates, who were much occupied with their knives and forks, “give me but one of those fair ones, and I will not eat my dinner for a month.” “Hulloa!” said the surgeon, “what’s the matter with you?” “Nothing,” replied I; “the illusion is vanished, and I will take a glass of wine with you. I cannot eat, my mind is too full of England, and my heart crowded with its delightful fair ones. What unfeeling sea monsters you are all of you,” continued I, “to be eating with such voracious appetites when you know we are going to glorious England—the land of freedom and genuine hospitality.” “Not so fast,” said he, interrupting me; [pg 167]“how long is it since you were there?” “Nearly eight years,” said I. “I fear,” resumed he, “you will not have your dreams—for dreams they are—verified. I was there eighteen months ago, and found freedom in the mouths of the lower classes, who evidently did not understand the meaning of it, and when they did they only used it as a cloak to do mischief, for demagoguing—if you will allow the term—was the order of the day at that time, and as for hospitality that has, as you may express yourself, made sail and gone to cruise into some other climate. I had letters to two families from their relations in India; they asked me to dinner in a stiff, formal manner, and thought, I suppose, they had performed wonders. There our acquaintance ended. I am an Irishman,” continued he, “and I assert without partiality that there is more real hospitality in my land of praters than in all Europe. Freedom we will not talk about; but as for the women, dear creatures, they are a mixture of roses and lilies, and such busts, like dairy maids, sure,” said he; “don’t say anything more about them, or I shall be what has never happened to an Irishman yet—out of spirits.” “Now,” said I, “doctor, we have found you out. You lost your heart when in England, and were not requited by the cruel fair one.” “Fair or foul,” answered he, “I would not give one Munster girl for a dozen English. To be sure,” added he to a young Irish midshipman, whose turn it was to dine in the gun-room, “they are rather thick about the trotters, and their heels are to be [pg 168]compared to their red potatoes, but the upper part of their figures—say no more. Come, messmate, let’s drink a speedy passage and soon, as a worthy alderman did at a Guildhall dinner.” “You mistake, doctor,” said the second lieutenant, “he gave for a toast, a speedy peace and soon.” “Never mind,” said the doctor, “it will be all the same a hundred years hence; an Irishman is always allowed to speak twice.” Our parting with our washerwomen and other friends was pathetic in the extreme; their precious tears were sufficient to fill several (but as I did not measure them I cannot say how many) monkeys.
“Oh, Gramercy, my lob!” said my lady to me, “I neber shall see you no more; but I hope dat you member dat Julia lob you more den he can tell. No,” said she, turning aside, “nobody can lob like poor me one, Julia.” She appeared overwhelmed with grief, and I felt my situation awkward and pathetically silly, as she had followed me down to the boat, and the eyes of several boats’ crews with their young, laughing wicked mids, were on us. I shook hands for the last time and jumped into the boat with a tear rolling down my cheek from my starboard eye. Reader, I beg you will not pity me, for I was not in love. I was what an old maiden cousin would have called imprudent.
CHAPTER XIII.
HOME AGAIN.
Ordered to the Black River—Meet the magistrate there, and “bow to his bishop”—Sail with a convoy of thirty ships—Arrive at Deal—A cruise on horseback on a baker’s nag, which conscientiously goes the bread round—The Author’s brother comes on board, but he fails to recognise him—Paid off at Deptford.