It is uncertain how long I should have remained in this uncertainty, had not a brother midshipman, in the coffee-room, accosted me, and kindly helped me out with my pint of port, which I thought I showed my manliness in calling for. He did not roast me very unmercifully, but what he spared in gibes he made up in drinking. I abstained with a great deal of firmness from following his example: he warmly praised my abstinence, I suppose with much sincerity, as it certainly appeared to be a virtue which he was incapable of practising. About seven o’clock my ready-made friend began to be more minute in his inquiries. I showed him my introductory letter, and he told me directly at what hotel the captain was established, and enforced upon me the necessity of immediately waiting upon him; telling me I might think myself extremely lucky in having had to entertain only one officer, when so many thirsty and penniless ones were cruising about to sponge on the Johnny Raws. For himself, he said he was a man of honour, quite a gentleman, and insisted upon paying his share of the two bottles of port consumed, of which I certainly had not drunk more than four glasses. Secretly praising my man of honour for his disinterestedness, for I had asked him to take a glass of wine, which he had read as a couple of bottles, I ordered my bill, among the items of which stood conspicuously forth, “Two bottles of old crusted port, fourteen shillings.”
“Damned imposition!” said my hitherto anonymous friend. “Of all vices, I abominate imposition the most. I shall pay for all this wine myself. Here, wai-terre, pen and ink. Banking hours are over now; I have nothing but a fifty pound bill about me. However, you shall have my IOU. You see that I have made it out for one pound—you’ll just hand me the difference, six shillings. Your name, I think you said, was Rattlin—Ralph Rattlin. A good name, a very good purser’s name indeed. There, Mr Rattlin, you have only to present that piece of paper when you get on board to the head swab washer, and he’ll give you either cash for it, or slops.”
I gave the gentleman who so much abhorred imposition six shillings in return for his paper, which contained these words:
“I owe you twenty shillings. Josiah Cheeks, Major-General of the Horse Marines, of his Majesty’s ship, the Merry Dun, of Dover.—To Mr Ralph Rattlin.”
I carefully placed this precious document in my pocketbook, among my one-pound notes, at that time the principal currency of the country; yet could not help thinking that my friend cast an awfully hungry eye at the pieces of paper. He had already commenced a very elaborate speech prefatory to the request of a loan, when I cut him short, by telling him that I had promised my god-mamma not to lend anyone a single penny until I had been on board my ship six months, which was really the case. He commended my sense of duty; and said it was of no manner of consequence, as next morning he should be in possession of more than he should have occasion for, and then a five or a ten-pound note would be at my service. After vainly endeavouring to seduce me to the theatre, he made a virtue of my obstinacy, and taking me by the arm, showed me to the door of the hotel, where Captain Reud, of H.M.S. Eos was located.
I was announced, and immediately ushered into a room where I saw a sallow-visaged, compact, well-made little man, apparently not older than two or three-and-twenty, sitting in the middle of the room, upon a black quart bottle, the neck of which was on the floor, and the bottom forming the uneasy and unstable seat. Without paying much attention to me, every now and then he would give himself an impetus, and flinging out his arms, spin round like a turnstile. It certainly was very amusing, and, no doubt so thought his companion, a fine, manly, handsome-looking fellow, of thirty-five or thirty-eight, by his long-continued and vociferous applause. The little spinner was habited in a plain but handsome uniform, with one gold epaulet on his right shoulder, whilst the delighted approver had a coat splendid with broad white kerseymere facings.
I could observe that both parties were deeply immersed in the many-coloured delirium of much drink. I looked first at one, then at the other, undecided as to which of the two was my captain. However, I could not augur ill of one who laughed so heartily, nor of the other, who seemed so happy in making himself a teetotum. Taking advantage of a pause in this singular exhibition, I delivered my credentials to the former and more imposing-looking of the two, who immediately handed them over to Captain Reud. I was graciously received, a few questions of courtesy asked, and a glass of wine poured out for me.
My presence was soon totally disregarded, and my captain and his first-lieutenant began conversing on all manner of subjects, in a jargon to me entirely incomprehensible. The decanter flew across and across the table with wonderful rapidity, and the flow of assertion increased with the captain, and that of assentation with his lieutenant. At length, the little man with the epaulet commenced a very prurient tale. Mr Farmer cast a look full of meaning upon myself, when Captain Reud addressed me thus, in a sharp, shrill tone, that I thought impossible to a person who told such pleasant stories, and who could spin so prettily upon a quart bottle. “Do you hear, younker, you’ll ship your traps in a wherry the first thing to-morrow morning, and get on board early enough to be victualled that day. Tell the commanding officer to order the ship’s tailor to clap the curse of God upon you—(I started with horror at the impiety)—to unship those poodles from your jacket, and rig you out with the foul anchor.”
“Yes, sir,” said I; “but I hope the tailor won’t be so wicked, because I am sure I wish the gentleman no harm.”
“Piously brought up,” said the captain.