“No, that I venture you did not, and it requires all the impudence of a midshipman to make such a one; but the fact is, Mr O’Donahue, I am a mate with 40 pounds a year, and upon that I have continued to assist my poor old mother up to the present. She now requires 10 pounds in consequence of illness, and I have not a farthing. I will repay it if I live, that is certain; but I have little hopes of obtaining it, and nothing but my affection for the old lady would induce me to risk the mortification of a refusal. It’s true enough that ‘he who goes a-borrowing goes a-sorrowing.’”
“I fear it is; but I will so far assist you as to let you know what your only chance is. State your case to Mr Small as you have to me to-day, and then stand close to him while he answers; if he puts his knuckles into your ribs to enforce his arguments, don’t shrink, and then wait the result without interrupting him.”
“Well, I’d do more than that for the old lady,” replied the poor midshipman, as Mr Small made his appearance.
The midshipman told his story in very few words, and Mr Small heard him without interruption. When he had finished, Mr Small commenced, “You see my man, you ask me to do what no navy-agent ever did before—to lend upon a promise to pay, and that promise to pay from a midshipman. In the first place, I have only the promise without the security; that’s one point, do you observe? (A punch with the knuckles.) And then the promise to pay depends whether you are in the country or not. Again, if you have the money, you may not have the inclination to pay; that’s another point. (Then came another sharp impression into the ribs of the middy.) Then, again, it is not even personal security, as you may be drowned, shot, blown up, or taken out of the world before any pay is due to you; and by your death you would be unable to pay, if so inclined; there’s a third point. (And there was a third dig, which the middy stood boldly up against.) Insure your life you cannot, for you have no money; you therefore require me to lend my money upon no security whatever; for even allowing that you would pay if you could, yet your death might prevent it; there’s another point, (and the knuckles again penetrated into the midshipman’s side who felt the torture increasing as hope was departing.) But,” continued Mr Small, who was evidently much pleased with his own ratiocination, “there is another point not yet touched upon, which is, that as good Christians, we must sometimes lend money upon no security, or even give it away, for so are we commanded; and therefore, Mr O’Donahue, you will tell Mr Sleek to let him have the money; there’s the last and best point of all, eh?” wound up Mr Small, with a thumping blow upon the ribs of the middy, that almost took away his breath. We give this as a specimen of Mr Small’s style of practical and theoretical logic combined.
“The admiral, sir, is coming down the street,” said Sleek, entering, “and I think he is coming here.”
Mr Small, who did not venture to chop logic with admirals, but was excessively polite to such great people, went out to receive the admiral, hat in hand.
“Now, Mr Small,” said the admiral, “the counting-house for business, if you please. I have very unexpected orders to leave Portsmouth. I must save the next tide, if possible. The ships will be ready, for you know what our navy can do when required: but as you know, I have not one atom of stock on board. The flood-tide has made almost an hour, and we must sail at the first of the ebb, as twelve hours’ delay may be most serious. Now, tell me—here is the list of what is required; boats will be ready and men in plenty to get it on board;—can you get it ready by that time?”
“By that time, Sir William?” replied Small, looking over the tremendous catalogue.
“It is now eleven o’clock; can it all be down by four o’clock—that is the latest I can give you?”
“Impossible, Sir William.”