"Ces Anglais! ça n'a pas d'expérience!—nous verrons tout à l'heure!" he added, rubbing his hands with delight.
The influence of dress is wonderful. A certain costume seems to impart to the wearer, ideas pertaining to the class of society which he then personates. A lawyer's wig and gown make a man fancy that he could plead, and he regrets that he was not brought up to the bar. A civilian, who attends a fancy ball in a splendid uniform, is inspired with courageous ideas, which a free potation of refreshment fans into a martial ardour. Now the Cannons did truly consider themselves sailors. The young men walked up and down the deck boldly, endeavouring to show how they could tread a plank or a seam on "sea legs" without staggering, although there was no more motion than under Kew-bridge; and then they would cast a knowing eye at the compass as they passed the binnacle, to ascertain if the helmsman steered judiciously, although the compass was as little known to them as the Koran. Then they would suddenly stop, and look at the sky; then suck their fingers, and hold them up, to see which way the wind blew; and, when their cigars were out they would whistle or hum "Rule Britannia!" or, "You gentlemen of England, who live at home at ease," while they were lighting other havannahs.
Old Cannon was equally busy; but he was seated amongst the ladies, encouraging them against sea-sickness, which he said was all nonsense, and, if they were very sick, recommended them most particularly to turn their faces to the wind, and to keep their veils before them not to see the sea. Then to the French gentlemen he endeavoured to describe the battles of the Nile and of Trafalgar; and the Frenchmen of course concluded from his age, language, and appearance, that he was at least an admiral.
A "cat's-paw," as the sailors call it, had now ruffled the surface of the water, and the vessel commenced heaving; ere long, most of the passengers assisted the packet in conjugating the verb "heave;" when, strange to say, the powers of the pea-jacket and the anchor-buttons were exhausted, and all the Cannons were drawn out,—a broadside of unutterable misery. Old Cannon roared out "he was a-dying," and begged they would send for a doctor; and while he was rolling, and twisting, and twining upon the deck in agony, the cabin-boy was cleansing him with a wet swab. As to the Miss Cannons, they were assisted below,—not by their brothers, who, with dismay in their countenances, were "holding on" at every thing and every one they could catch, until a sudden regurgitation made them rush in desperation to the bulwark, with closed eyes and extended arms. Strange to say, the French gentlemen were not sick! possibly their red riband was more effectual than blue jackets; but they indulged their mirth at the expense of old Cannon, exclaiming,
"Mais, voyez donc, ce pauvre Monsieur de Trafalgar!"
It now was blowing fresh, and, to add to their misery, the paddles, by some mismanagement of the engineer, got obstructed, and the vessel was completely water-logged.
The French passengers got frightened, and began shaking old Cannon, roaring out,
"Monsieur de Trafalgar, à la manœuvre! à la manœuvre!"
"Oh Lord! oh Lord!" exclaimed the old man in a piteous tone, "are we arrived?"
"No, sare! we sall all arriver down to de bottom. Mon Dieu! mon Dieu!"