The reader may perhaps inquire how it was that Captain Delmar—as he had promised to pay my expenses—had not made any offer of the kind, or communicated with me on the subject? But the fact was, that he knew I had three years’ pay due, besides the prize-money for the Dutch frigate, which, however, I had not yet received, although it was payable. In pecuniary matters I was certainly well off, as my mother desired that I would draw for any money that I required, feeling convinced that, being aware of her circumstances, I should not distress her by any extravagancies in that she did me justice.
I was now eighteen years old, and just starting again on my career. As I grew up, my likeness to Captain Delmar became more remarkable every day. My mother could not help observing it even to me. “I almost wish that it was not so, my dear mother. I fear it will be the cause of annoyance to Captain Delmar; but it cannot be helped. At all events, it must satisfy him, allowing that he has any doubt (which I am sure he has not), that I am his own child.”
“That I believe to be quite unnecessary,” replied my mother with a deep sigh.
“I should think so too, my dear mother,” replied I, caressing her kindly. “At all events, I will prove, whether I ever obtain it or not, that I am not unworthy of the name of Delmar: but I must wait no longer—the coach is about to start. Adieu, and may God bless you.”
On my arrival at Plymouth—or Plymouth Dock, as Devonport was then called—I inquired at which hotel Captain Delmar had taken up his quarters. It was the one to which I had intended to have gone myself; but I immediately had my luggage taken to another, for I really believe that Delmar would have considered it a great liberty for any one of his officers to presume, to lie down in the same caravanserai as himself. The next morning I sent up my name and was admitted.
“Good morning, Mr Keene,” said the captain. “I presume that you have come down to request to join my ship, and I therefore consent before you make the request. I trust you will always show the same zeal and deference to your officers that you did in the Calliope. You have grown very much, and are now a young man. I shall give you the rating of mate, and I trust you will not do discredit to my patronage.”
“I trust not, Captain Delmar,” replied I. “I have but one wish in the world, which is to please you, who have so befriended me from my boyhood. I should be very ungrateful if I did not do my duty with zeal and fidelity; I am indebted to you for everything, and I am aware I must look to you for every future prospect. I have to thank you, sir, for your great kindness in publishing my name in the public Gazette.”
“You deserved it, Mr Keene, and it certainly will be of great advantage to you when you have served your time. Has your time gone on since the Calliope was paid off?”
“Yes, sir; I am still on the books of the Salvadore?”
“How much time have you served?”