“My dear Mr Simple,” said he, “it is of no use; I can never recover it, and I prefer dying here. I entreat you not to move me. If the enemy take possession of the brig before she sinks, I shall be buried with military honours; if they do not, I shall at least die in the dress of a gentleman. Hasten away as fast as you can, before you lose more men. Here I stay—that’s decided.”
I expostulated with him, but at that time two boats full of men appeared, pulling out of the harbour to the brig. The enemy had perceived that our boats had deserted her, and were coming to take possession. I had therefore no time to urge Mr Chucks to change his resolution, and not wishing to force a dying man, I shook his hand and left him. It was with some difficulty I escaped, for the boats had come up close to the brig; they chased me a little while, but the yawl and the cutter turning back to my assistance, they gave up the pursuit. On the whole, this was a very well arranged and well conducted expedition. The only man lost was Mr Chucks, for the wounds of the others were none of them mortal. Captain Kearney was quite satisfied with our conduct, and so was the admiral, when it was reported to him. Captain Kearney did indeed grumble a little about his jacket, and sent for me to inquire why I had not taken it off Mr Chucks, and brought it on board. As I did not choose to tell him the exact truth, I replied that I could not disturb a dying man, and that the jacket was so saturated with blood, that he never could have worn it again,—which was the case.
“At all events, you might have brought away my epaulets,” replied he; “but you youngsters think of nothing but gormandising.”
I had the first watch that night, when Swinburne, the quarter master, came up to me, and asked me all the particulars of the affair, for he was not in the boats. “Well,” said he, “that Mr Chucks appeared to be a very good boatswain in his way, if he could only have kept his rattan a little quiet. He was a smart fellow, and knew his duty. We had just such another killed in our ship, in the action off Cape St. Vincent.”
“What! were you in that action?” replied I.
“Yes, I was, and belonged to the Captain, Lord Nelson’s ship.”
“Well, then suppose you tell me all about it.”
“Why, Mr Simple, d’ye see, I’ve no objection to spin you a yarn now and then,” replied Swinburne; “but as Mr Chucks used to say, allow me to observe, in the most delicate manner in the world, that I perceive that the man who has charge of your hammock, and slings you a clean one now and then, has very often a good glass of grog for his yarns, and I do not see but that mine are as well worth a glass of grog as his.”
“So they are, Swinburne, and better too, and I promise you a good stiff one to-morrow evening.”
“That will do, sir: now then I’ll tell you all about it, and more about it too than most can, for I know how the action was brought about.”