The captain, as was his custom, went on shore, and took up his quarters at a friend’s house; that is to say, the house of an acquaintance, or any polite gentleman who would ask him to take a dinner and a bed. This was quite sufficient for Captain Kearney, who would fill his portmanteau, and take up his quarters without thinking of leaving them until the ship sailed, or some more advantageous invitation was given. This conduct in England would have very much trespassed upon our ideas of hospitality; but in our foreign settlements and colonies, where the society is confined and novelty is desirable, a person who could amuse like Captain Kearney was generally welcome, let him stay as long as he pleased. All sailors agree in asserting that Halifax is one of the most delightful ports in which a ship can anchor. Everybody is hospitable, cheerful, and willing to amuse and be amused. It is, therefore, a very bad place to send a ship to if you wish her to refit in a hurry, unless indeed the admiral is there to watch over your daily progress, and a sharp commissioner to expedite your motions in the dock-yard. The admiral was there when we arrived, and we should not have lain there long, had not the health of Captain Kearney, by the time that we were ready for sea, been so seriously affected, that the doctor was of opinion that he could not sail. Another frigate was sent to our intended cruising ground, and we lay idle in port. But we consoled ourselves: if we did not make prize-money, at all events, we were very happy, and the major part of the officers very much in love.
We had remained in Halifax harbour about three weeks, when a very great change for the worse took place in Captain Kearney’s disease. Disease, indeed, it could hardly be called. He had been long suffering from the insidious attacks of a hot climate, and though repeatedly advised to invalid, he never would consent. His constitution appeared now to be breaking up. In a few days he was so ill, that, at the request of the naval surgeons, he consented to be removed to the hospital, where he could command more comforts than in any private house. He had not been in the hospital more than two days, when he sent for me, and stated his wish that I should remain with him. “You know, Peter, that you are a cousin of mine, and one likes to have one’s relations near one when we are sick, so bring your traps on shore. The doctor has promised me a nice little room for yourself, and you shall come and sit with me all day.” I certainly had no objection to remain with him, because I considered it my duty so to do, and I must say that there was no occasion for me to make any efforts to entertain him, as he always entertained me; but I could not help seriously reflecting, and feeling much shocked, at a man, lying in so dangerous a state—for the doctors had pronounced his recovery to be impossible—still continuing a system of falsehood during the whole day, without intermission. But it really appeared to him to be innate; and, as Swinburne said, “if he told truth, it was entirely by mistake.”
“Peter,” said he, one day, “there’s a great draught. Shut the door and put on some more coals.”
“The fire does not draw well, sir,” replied I, “without the door is open.”
“It’s astonishing how little people understand the nature of these things. When I built my house called Welcot Abbey, there was not a chimney would draw; I sent for the architect and abused him, but he could not manage it; I was obliged to do it myself.”
“Did you manage it, sir?”
“Manage it—I think I did. The first time I lighted the fire, I opened the door, and the draught was so great, that my little boy William, who was standing in the current of air, would have gone right up the chimney, if I had not caught him by the petticoats; as it was, his frock was on fire.”
“Why, sir, it must have been as bad as a hurricane!”
“No, no, not quite so bad—but it showed what a little knowledge of philosophical arrangement could effect. We have no hurricanes in England, Peter; but I have seen a very pretty whirlwind when I was at Welcot Abbey.”
“Indeed, sir.”