“I really must say, Mr Phillott,” replied Captain Kearney, “that I do not perceive anything in what Mr O’Brien said, but what is correct. I command here; and if an officer so nearly equal in rank to yourself has committed himself, you are not to take the law into your own hands. The fact is, Mr Phillott, your language is not quite so correct as I could wish it. I overheard every word that passed, and I consider that you have treated your superior officer with disrespect—that is me. I gave permission that the shark should be caught, and with that permission, I consequently allowed those little deviations from the discipline of the service, which must inevitably take place. Yet you have thought proper to interfere with my permission, which is tantamount to an order, and have made use of harsh language, and punished the young gentlemen for obeying my injunctions. You will oblige me, sir, by calling them all down, and in restraining your petulance for the future. I will always support your authority when you are correct; but I regret that, in this instance, you have necessitated me to weaken it.”
This was a most severe check to Mr Phillott, who immediately went below, after hailing the mast-heads, and calling down the midshipmen. As soon as he was gone, we were all on the hammocks again; the shark was hauled forward, hoisted on board, and every frying-pan in the ship was in requisition. We were all much pleased with Captain Kearney’s conduct on this occasion; and, as O’Brien observed to me, “He really is a good fellow and clever officer. What a thousand pities it is that he is such a confounded liar!” I must do Mr Phillott the justice to say that he bore no malice on this occasion, but treated us as before, which is saying a great deal in his favour, when it is considered what power a first lieutenant has of annoying and punishing his inferiors.
Chapter Thirty Three.
Another set-to between the captain and first lieutenant—Cutting-out expedition—Mr Chucks mistaken—He dies like a gentleman—Swinburne begins his account of the battle of St. Vincent.
We had not been more than a week under the Danish island of St. Thomas, when we discovered a brig close in-shore. We made all sail in chase, and soon came within a mile and a half of the shore, when she anchored under a battery, which opened its fire upon us. Their elevation was too great, and several shots passed over us and between our masts.
“I once met with a very remarkable circumstance,” observed Captain Kearney. “Three guns were fired at a frigate I was on board of, from a battery, all at the same time. The three shots cut away the three topsail ties, and down came all our topsail-yards upon the cap at the same time. That the Frenchmen might not suppose that they had taken such good aim, we turned up our hands to reef topsails; and by the time that the men were off the yards, the ties were spliced, and the topsails run up again.”
Mr Phillott could not stand this most enormous fib, and he replied, “Very odd, indeed, Captain Kearney: but I have known a stranger circumstance. We had put in the powder to the four guns on the main deck, when we were fighting the Danish gun-boats, in a frigate I was in; and as the men withdrew the rammer, a shot from the enemy entered the muzzle and completed the loading of each gun. We fired their own shot back upon them, and this occurred three times running.”
“Upon my word,” replied Captain Kearney, who had his glass upon the battery, “I think you must have dreamt that circumstance, Mr Phillott.”