“Rather! Why, he would do anything for them, regardless of his own comfort, and they in return would follow him anywhere, night or day, in the face of a thousand batteries. He was, indeed, like a father to them,” continued the paymaster, who was fond of yarning about his old experiences with the admiral. “I recollect after the bombardment of Bomarsund and the capture of a lot of prizes up the Baltic, we put into Kiel again, and the men wanted to draw advances to have a spree ashore, but the admiral told the purser to refuse them, and when they grumbled about it he gave them a ‘dressing-down’ from the poop, having them all piped aft by the bosun for the purpose. ‘Lads,’ says he, ‘I’ll let you have ten shillings apiece, but not a farthing more to spend, now! I want you to save all your prize-money for your wives and sweethearts when you return to England, for I don’t wish to have my eyes scratched out on Common Hard when I come out of the dockyard on landing, as I should, if I were fool enough to allow you to spend all your money out here instead of making you keep it, as I intend, till you get home!’ He was a rare good old sort was the admiral, young Vernon!”
“So I should think,” I replied, “from all I have heard.”
But there our chat ended, the Cape people just beginning to come off to “cut their capers,” as Master Larkyns remarked to me, making me a target as usual for one of his fearful puns.
Our dance was as great a success, I think, as the garrison ball, judging by the approving comments of our guests, who kept it up till the middle watch had well-nigh come to a close.
Mr Jellaby, I noticed, inconstant fellow that he was, payed attentions of the most marked character on this occasion, all the time the festivities lasted to a Cape damsel of the most slender figure, contrasting strongly with the stout lady who was his former flame and who had come off especially, so the wardroom officers said in their chaff, to renew her attack on the heart of the lieutenant.
Mr Jellaby, proved a recreant knight and the Dutch lady had to content herself with the cavalier-ship of the youngest and most diminutive cadet on board, my chum, little Tommy Mills!
But Tommy’s gallant championship of the deserted fair one and the lieutenant’s fresh flirtation had to terminate, like everything else in this world; and hardly had the last of our visitors quitted the ship than the hands were turned up to weigh anchor, the old Candahar sailing soon after daybreak and shaping a course southwards to pick up the westerly trade winds of the “Roaring Forties.”
With studding sails, upper and lower, on each side, we bowled along gaily, the wind right astern all the way some two thousand miles odd or so, until we fetched the meridian of the Island of Saint Paul in the middle of the great southern ocean; when, we hauled up to the north-east and steered for the Straits of Sunda, leading into the China Sea—finally joining the admiral in command of the station at Singapore, where we cast anchor again in the outer roads one broiling morning in March, just four months from the date of our leaving home.