I don’t think I would have carried this thought into action had it not been for ‘Ally Sloper,’ our cockatoo, who just then came hopping down the garden-path from the scullery, where he had been having a rare carrying-on with the cat, the rum bird as soon as he caught sight of me flying up on the table and catching hold of the end of father’s favourite churchwarden with his claw.
“Say-rah!” he shouted out in the very tones of father’s voice, so that I could almost fancy he were there sitting alongside of me. “Blest if I don’t have a pipe!”
That settled the matter.
The next moment I had taken the pipe from ‘Ally Sloper’s’ reluctant claw; and, filling it carefully, poking down the tobacco with the end of my finger just as father used to do, I struck a match and started smoking.
I can’t say I absolutely liked it at first, the strong narcotic, bitter taste of the tobacco, combined with the smell, making me feel rather giddy; while a gulp of smoke which went the wrong way caused me to cough.
But, I stuck at it all the same, feeling that now at last I was on the highroad to being a man, just like those able-bodied seamen belonging to our ship who used to enjoy ‘blowing their cloud,’ as they called it, of an evening on board the Saint Vincent when work was done for the day.
My complacency, too, was heightened by Jenny coming out presently, and the admiration she expressed at my dignified attitude under the mulberry-tree, leaning back in father’s armchair, and smoking his very own churchwarden.
“Good gracious me, Tom!” she exclaimed; Jack the thrush calling out “Jenny! Jenny! Jenny!” at sight of her, as he always did. “Why, you’re just like daddy!”
This made me feel proud, I can tell you; though old ‘Ally Sloper’ didn’t appear to like my performance, for I was amusing myself by puffing the smoke in his face, making him put up his lemon crest and spread out his collar-like feathers, screaming for mother like mad.
I had ‘crossed the Rubicon,’ however; and, ever after this, when at home of an afternoon, sometimes with Mick, who, of course, imitated me, sometimes without him on those occasions when he did not get permission to go ashore, I used to have a whiff at father’s pipe on the sly—without his knowledge though, you bet!