“Is it your habit to exaggerate, or do you only indulge in it occasionally, young ’un?” quietly inquired Percival, the master’s-mate, looking up from a book he was devouring with his breakfast.
“Exaggerate? How do you mean?” returned Summers, flushing up very red in the face. “I thought it would be understood that I was only joking.”
“And I have no doubt it was so understood,” remarked Percival, “but if you are not above taking a bit of friendly advice, let me recommend you not to deviate a single hair’s-breadth from the truth, even in joke; it is a dangerous practice, and as easy an introduction to deliberate, systematic lying as any with which I am acquainted. Now don’t look so hurt, my boy, of course you meant no harm—you had no intention to deceive us, it was merely a thoughtless speech, but be advised by me and avoid that particular species of thoughtlessness as you would the plague, nothing is much easier to acquire than a reputation for untruthfulness, and certainly nothing is more difficult to get rid of.”
Poor little Summers hung down his head for a few moments, dreadfully abashed at this unexpected rebuke, then looking up, with the flush still on his face, he said, “Thank you, Mr Percival. You hit me rather hard, but I believe you are right, I am afraid I have yielded rather too much to the bad habit of which you speak, but I don’t think I shall be likely to do it again. And now, to change the subject, does anybody know exactly where we are bound?”
“There was a vague rumour floating about Portsmouth, a few days ago, that Lord Hood—by the way, I wonder if he is in any way related to our skipper?—is to take a fleet to Toulon, though for what purpose nobody seemed to know; I hope we shall not be ordered to join,” said Smellie.
“I hope not!” remarked Percival. “I also heard the rumour to which you refer, and I fancy there must be some truth in it, for it went so far even as to specify by name several ships as having been selected to form part of the fleet, and I know that there has been a pretty general overhaul and refit going on with many of them. There is a large French fleet at this moment lying in Toulon harbour, and I am of opinion that the expedition—if such there is to be—is for the purpose of getting hold of a few of them. It is said that there are no less than thirty-four ships, many of them of large size, lying there ready for sea, while they have one seventy-four, and two forties—all very fine vessels—on the stocks and about ready for launching. If Lord Hood can take the pick of such a fleet as that, we should be able to lay up in ordinary the old ‘Juno’ and a few more like her. But I do not think we need distress ourselves much respecting the Toulon fleet. If Lord Hood wants any frigates, he will take them out with him. Our mission, I expect, will be to cruise up and down the Mediterranean, doing the best we can for ourselves; our skipper has, no doubt, influence enough to ensure that he shall not be hampered by being attached to blockading fleets, or anything of that kind, where you get a great deal of work and very little prize-money.”
Percival’s assumption turned out to be correct. We called at Gibraltar, and remained a couple of days, giving some of us, of whom I happened to be one—an opportunity of exploring this extraordinary fortress, from whence we went on to Malta, remained there a week, and were then ordered out to cruise. We were told that the French had seventeen ships-of-war cruising in the Mediterranean, but we seemed to be altogether out of luck’s way, for we never had the good fortune even to sight one, and, beyond picking up some half-a-dozen insignificant French traders, we did positively nothing for six entire months.
At length, about the middle of December, the ship requiring a slight refit, we bore up for Malta, arriving there on the 23rd of the month—just in time for the Christmas festivities. We of the cockpit contrived to get our full share of leave, and enjoyed ourselves immensely, but as nothing occurred particularly worthy of note, I shall not enter into details as to the pranks we played, and our several modes of seeking enjoyment.
On the 4th of January, 1794, we received orders to take on board 150 supernumeraries for the garrison at Toulon, the rumour of the proposed fleet under Lord Hood having in the meantime become an accomplished fact, and that gallant officer having accepted the surrender of the port from the Toulonese, in trust for Louis XVII. We received these supernumeraries on board early next morning, and sailed immediately after the completion of the embarkation.
It took us a week to make the passage, the wind being fair but light, and the weather beautiful during the whole time. On the fourth day out, poor old Rawlings, the master, complained of severe shooting pains in the head, accompanied by giddiness and nausea, and the next day found him confined to his berth in a high fever.