A Voyage round the World / A book for boys

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“I wish you would,” I answered. “It’s a great shame, and I don’t like it.”

“But I dare not,” he replied, putting on a pretended serious face, though he could not hide the twinkle of his laughing eyes; “they are such precious fierce fellows. But don’t you think that you might buy yourself off? I’ll see if I can arrange the matter with them.”

I saw that there would be no use contending against my tormentor, and I was more hurt than I choose to acknowledge; so I wisely agreed to pay any moderate sum to be released. The arrangement was soon made; and Yool and Cockle, having unlashed my limbs, begged my pardon, and complimented me on the daring and agility I had displayed on this my first climb aloft.

This adventure, as I took the treatment I received good humouredly, made me capital friends with all the seamen, and I found that there were not kinder-hearted or better men on board than Yool and Cockle. I observed that Jerry took the opportunity when his father was below to play off the tricks imagined by his fertile brain, though he was sometimes discovered and reprimanded; but he put on so penitent an expression, and had such comical excuses to offer, that Captain Frankland saw that it would be worse than useless to punish him. Indeed, punishment would scarcely have corrected such faults as he had. Gerard, from being small, and having delicate features, though they were full of rich humour, looked younger than I did; but he was in reality older, and had much more experience of the world. His constitution was considered delicate, which was the reason his father took him to sea at first; but now he liked the life so much, he told me, that he had resolved to follow it as a profession. We both of us slept in a cabin which we had to ourselves, near the captain’s. Gerard was learning navigation; and Captain Frankland told me that I must study hard to catch him up, so that we might work together. He superintended our studies; but Silas Brand was our chief master, and somehow or other, in his quiet way, he managed to impart a considerable amount of information in a pleasant and rapid manner. It appeared to me that he always said the right thing at the right time, so as to impress it on the memory. Our first officer, John Renshaw, was a very worthy man, but totally unlike my Cousin Silas. He was tall and thin, and had a long weather-beaten, rather melancholy-looking face. Not that he was melancholy; the form of his features made him look so. It is better, however, to look melancholy than to have facetious features, which always appear to be on a broad grin. A strong contrast to both of them was found in our third officer, Samuel Melgrove. He was a man with strongly-marked, rather coarse features, with red hair and complexion. One might have expected to hear only the roughest tones come out of such a mouth as he possessed; but, instead, he spoke in a soft, somewhat mincing manner, and prided himself on his gentlemanly style and volubility. He could, however, speak loud and rough enough in case of necessity. If called on suddenly to shorten sail, no one could make himself better heard. The mates on board a merchantman have the same sort of duty as the lieutenants of a man-of-war, with the addition of having to attend to the stowing of the cargo and stores. We had also a surgeon, who was a good naturalist and a very scientific man—Mr David McRitchie. He evidently at first looked with very grave suspicion on Gerard and me, as if we were only waiting our opportunity to play him some trick; and when he left his cabin he always locked the door, lest we should get in and do some mischief; but such an idea was, I must say, very far from my thoughts, and even Gerard respected him too much to wish to annoy him. How to convince him of this seemed a difficulty. Gerard undertook to assure him.

“Mr McRitchie,” said he one day abruptly to him, “I daresay that you think me a young jackanapes, whose only thought is how he can do most harm in the world. Now, sir, you are mistaken; all I want is that you will impart some of your knowledge to Harry and me; but, understand, whether you do that or not, Harry and I will make it a point of honour not to do you any injury by word, look, or deed.”

“Oh, I never— Well, well, you are good boys, and I perfectly trust you,” stuttered out the doctor, completely taken by surprise. “I shall be glad, too, to give you all the information in my power; and I hope, in the course of the voyage, we may have many interesting subjects to see and talk about.” I was sure that Mr McRitchie would faithfully keep his word.

We had three other somewhat important personages on board who were characters in their way—Richard Fleming the boatswain, James Pincott the carpenter, and Thomas Veal the captain’s steward. They each had their peculiarities; but I will not stop now to describe them. We had twenty men forward, all picked hands; for, with the long voyage we contemplated, and the service we were on, it was necessary to be strongly manned. I must not omit a description of the Triton herself. She had a raised poop, beneath which were situated the chief cabins, and a forecastle, under which the crew lived in two compartments, one on either side of it. There was also a caboose, or galley, with a great cooking-range, and, indeed, every convenience the men could desire. We carried eight guns—9-pounders—for we were going into seas where it would be necessary to be well-armed, and constantly on our guard against treachery; and we were also amply supplied with boats, which, I may remark, were always kept in good order, and ready for instant use. I was surprised one day during a calm, before we had been long at sea, to hear the order given to lower boats when there was no ship in sight, and apparently no reason for it. So were those of the crew who had not before sailed with Captain Frankland. They, however, flew to obey the order, and, in a short time, three boats were manned and in the water. They were then hoisted in again, and stowed.

“Very well,” said the captain, holding his watch in his hand. “Smartly done, my lads; but another time, I think, we may do it still quicker.”

Some of the men, of course, grumbled, as I have found out that some people will grumble when any new system is introduced, the object of which they do not understand. The loudest grumbler at anything new introduced on board was old Fleming the boatswain. He called himself a Conservative, or, rather, a Tory, and strongly opposed all change.

“None of your newfangled notions for me,” he used to observe; “I like things as they were. Do you think our fathers would have all along been satisfied with them if they hadn’t been good? I look upon it as disrespectful to their memory to wish to have them changed, as if we thought ourselves so much wiser and better than they were.”