“What tho’
No chiefs were they; their hands were strong in fight:
They were our rock in danger; in triumph,
The mountain whence we spread our eagle wing!”
Let those who are fond of dramatizing their ideas, picture to themselves the scene opening, and displaying the wardroom of the Erina; its centre occupied by a long breakfast-table, at which a number of the officers are already ranged.
Our hero enters, and takes his seat among them for the first time, having joined but the night before, just as the ship was getting under way.
Thus situated, he feels a very natural curiosity to observe what his new messmates are like. He looks around him accordingly; and every face being equally strange to him, he begins to amuse himself, by wondering at the manifold and ingenious contrivances of nature, to make such variety out of the old materials, of eyes, nose, and mouth.
One gentleman sat eating an egg with great solemnity; his elongated countenance, resembling one seen on the back of a table-spoon, held up the long way; while his next neighbour smiled on a roll, with a face that seemed reflected from the same part of the same utensil, turned the cross way. The next, a portly gentleman, looked as though he had stowed away, preparatory to the long voyage, good sea-store of claret in his cheeks, nose, and double chin. The next to him, as spare as Don Quixote, had a countenance the colour of a blanket; while the hollow of his cheeks, which he had ingeniously endeavoured to fill, by encouraging the growth of his whiskers, resembled excavations in a disused quarry, where tangled brambles had long been permitted to flourish undisturbed. One of the good-looking sat next; and the eye that was going the circle of the table, found agreeable rest, for a moment, on his oval countenance, adorned by a healthful complexion, fine eyes, and chesnut-brown hair. Next to him appeared a bluff-looking fellow; his face deeply pitted with the small-pox, and of a dark-red colour, relieved only by the sooty black of beard, hair, eye-brows, eye-lashes, eyes and whiskers. His neighbour had a merry face, of a lighter and brighter red, with the exception of the forehead, which was high, open, and brilliantly white, skirted by a thick forest of red hair; while a vigorous growth of whiskers, of the same colour, stood on each plump cheek, like underwood on the side of a hill.
Nearest him, sat a tall gentleman, whom our hero, on a further acquaintance, considered handsome; for he had a fine fresh skin and colour, a well-set mouth, good teeth, a high nose, and large blue eyes; but the rise on the nose was placed so much too high up, that it gave a ludicrous air of mock pomp to the whole countenance; while the eyes, peculiarly round, opened with that species of stare, which looks as though the cravat were tied too tight; and the cheeks, that seemed to have been plumped by practising the trumpet, wanting, alas! the sheltering grace of whiskers, but too much resembled, save in their hue, very large apple dumplings.
After thus scanning the faces of so many good fellows, brave and jovial, though not, at first sight, perfect beauties; our hero’s wandering eye arrived, at length, at a vacant seat, before which was placed a plate, carefully covered. At this seat and plate, he observed many of the party looking, from time to time, with various knowing winks and smiles, accompanied by glances directed towards a door, leading from one of the cabins. The said door opening shortly, admitted a perfect personification of Sir John Falstaff.
“Mr. Barns, our chaplain,” whispered Edmund’s neighbour. Our hero felt uneasy: he saw, at a glance, that Barns was the butt of the mess; and it was not accordant with his habits, to make a jest of the sacred office, be it held by whom it might.
Mr. Barns rolled towards his seat; placed himself upon it, and as he settled in it, seemed to spread with his own weight. He made a sort of grunt, intended for the morning salutation; then, stretching forward his arms, a certain protuberance of chest and abdomen, not permitting a nearer approach of the rest of the person to the table, he touched lightly, with the fore-finger and thumb of both hands, the cover; when, finding that he was in no danger of burning himself, he raised it. His countenance had begun to fall a little on finding the cover cold; but now, aghast, his under jaw hung on his double chin; while the tongue, spread and slighted protruded, rested on the under-lip; for, lo!—the plate contained but atmospheric air, and Mr. Barns was not used to feed on the camelion.