News from home not very agreeable, although the reader may laugh—We arrive at Portsmouth, where I fall in with my old acquaintance, Mrs Trotter—We sail with a convoy for the Baltic.
I had written to my sister Ellen, giving her an account of all that had passed, and mentioning the character of the captain, and his apparent intimacy with my uncle. I received an answer from her, telling me that she had discovered, from a very communicative old maiden lady, that Captain Hawkins was an illegitimate son of my uncle, by a lady with whom he had been acquainted, about the time that he was in the army. I immediately conceived the truth, that my uncle had pointed me out to him as an object of his vengeance, and that Captain Hawkins was too dutiful, and too dependent a son, not to obey him. The state of my father was more distressing than ever, but there was something very ludicrous in his fancies. He had fancied himself a jackass, and had brayed for a week, kicking the old nurse in the stomach, so as to double her up like a hedgehog. He had taken it into his head that he was a pump; and with one arm held out as a spout, he had obliged the poor old nurse to work the other up and down for hours together. In fact, there was a string of strange conceptions of this kind that had accumulated, so as to drive my poor sister almost mad: and sometimes his ideas would be attended with a very heavy expense, as he would send for architects, make contracts, etcetera, for building, supposing himself to have come to the title and property of his brother. This, being the basis of his disease, occurred frequently. I wrote to poor Ellen, giving her my best advice; and by this time the brig was again ready for sea, and we expected to sail immediately. I did not forget to write to O’Brien, but the distance between us was so great, that I knew I could not obtain his answer, probably, for a year, and I felt a melancholy foreboding, how much I required his advice.
Our orders were to proceed to Portsmouth, and join a convoy collected there, bound up the Baltic, under the charge of the Acasta frigate, and two other vessels. We did not sail with any pleasure, or hopes of gaining much in the way of prize-money. Our captain was enough to make any ship a hell; and our ship’s company were composed of a mutinous and incorrigible set of scoundrels, with, of course, a few exceptions. How different did the officers find the brig after losing such a captain as O’Brien, and so fine a ship’s company! But there was no help for it, and all we had to do was to make the best of it, and hope for better times. The cat was at work nearly every day, and I must acknowledge that, generally speaking, it was deserved; although sometimes a report from the sergeant of marines of any good man favoured by me, was certain to be attended to. This system of receiving reports direct from an inferior officer, instead of through me, as first lieutenant, became so annoying, that I resolved, at all risk to expostulate. I soon had an opportunity, for one morning the captain said to me, “Mr Simple, I understand that you had a fire in the galley last night after hours.”
“It’s very true, sir, that I did order a stove to be lighted; but may I inquire whether the first lieutenant has not a discretionary power in that point? and further, how is it that I am reported to you by other people? The discipline of this ship is carried on by me, under your directions, and all reports ought to come through me; and I cannot understand upon what grounds you permit them through any other channel.”
“I command my own ship, sir, and shall do as I please in that respect. When I have officers I can confide in, I shall, in all probability, allow them to report to me.”
“If there is anything in my conduct which has proved to you that I am incapable, or not trustworthy, I would feel obliged to you, sir, if you would, in the first place, point it out;—and, in the next, bring me to a court-martial if I do not correct it.”
“I am no court-martial man, sir,” replied he, “but I am not to be dictated to by an inferior officer, so you’ll oblige me by holding your tongue. The sergeant of marines, as master-at-arms, is bound to report to me any deviation from the regulations I have laid down for the discipline of the ship.”
“Granted, sir; but that report, according to the custom of the service, should come through the first lieutenant.”
“I prefer it coming direct, sir;—it stands less chance of being garbled.”
“Thank you, Captain Hawkins, for the compliment.”