CHAPTER VII.
Being appointed captain's coxswain and valet suited Thompson to a nicety, and it was amusing to see how he adapted himself to his new position, as from a merry wag he suddenly quieted down into a solemn-looking fellow. We hardly need say this was all assumption on his part, but "quiet dignity tinged with a slight shade of melancholy" he considered the correct sort of thing for the role, and no one who saw him recognized the gay and festive youth of old times.
"Promotion's ruined Thompson," said the boatswain to Price. "He ain't hisself. I shouldn't wonder if he goes into a consumption."
"I wish he would," feelingly replied the boatswain's mate, "provided the captain would give me a chance to ketch the complaint arter him."
Commander Puffeigh had shipped as his steward a young and aspiring cockney, who entered the service with the full determination of becoming an admiral, but finding his chances in that particular direction rather few, gave up the idea, and devoted his attention to the acquirement of grand words. The doctor was his great fountain-head; and when that gentleman dined with the captain, Mr. Boyldwyte would be on the alert, and listen to every word which fell from the medico's lips.
The appointment of Jerry in a double capacity annoyed the steward. He did not mind the sailor attending to his master when on board ship, but to be taken on shore, and regularly installed as captain's valet, was rather too much of a good thing. Whenever, therefore, the grave face of Mr. Thompson appeared at his pantry door, the steward forthwith would stand on the offensive. The sailor knew this, and aggravated his opponent accordingly.
The ship had been anchored in Simon's Bay about twenty-four hours, and Puffeigh was comfortably quartered on shore, before the coxswain made his appearance on board again. After delivering letters and messages to the first lieutenant, he proceeded to the steward's pantry, where he found Mr. Boyldwyte deep in the mystery of plate cleaning, and evidently not in the very best temper.
"Good morning, Mister Biled-up," whispered the sailor.
The steward took up a spoon and leathered away as if quite unconscious of the coxswain's presence.
"Mr. Biled right! I begs your pardon," insinuated the mischievous Jerry. "I'm come from the captain with orders, Mr. B."