Our hero was well enough to assume the command of the Urania by the time she was ready for sea. Oliver, as his first lieutenant, had been busily engaged in obtaining hands, and had secured many of the Lily’s former crew. The commander had some time before sent for Jack Peek, and urged him to prepare himself for obtaining a boatswain’s warrant.
“Thank you, sir,” said Jack; “but, you see, to get it I must read and write, and that’s what I never could tackle. I have tried pothooks and hangers, but my fingers get all cramped up, and the pen splits open, and I have to let it drop, and make a great big splash of ink on the paper; and as for reading, I’ve tried that too. I know all the letters when I see them, but I can’t manage to put them together in the right fashion, and never could get beyond a, b, ab, b, o, bo. I might in time, if I was to stick to it, I know, and I’ll try when we are at sea if I can get a messmate to teach me. But while you’re afloat I’d rather be your coxswain, if you’ll give me that rating; then I can always be with you, and, mayhap, render you some service, which is just the thing I should be proud of doing. Now, sir, there’s Tom Fletcher; he’s got plenty of learning, and he ought to be a good seaman by this time. If you were to recommend him to be either a gunner or a boatswain, he’d pass fast enough.”
Rayner shook his head. “I should be happy to serve Tom Fletcher for old acquaintance’ sake, but I fear that although he may have the learning, as you say, he has not got the moral qualities necessary to make a good warrant officer. However, send him to me, and I’ll have a talk with him on the subject.”
Jack promised to look after Tom, whom he had not seen since the Lily was paid off. He returned in a few days, saying that he had long searched for him in vain, until at length he had found him in a low house in the lowest of the Plymouth slums, his prize-money, to the amount of nearly a hundred pounds, all gone, and he himself so drunk that he could not understand the message Jack brought him.
“I am truly sorry to hear it,” said Rayner. “But you must watch him and try to get him on board. If he is cast adrift he must inevitably be lost, but we will try what we can do to reform him.”
“I will gladly do my best, sir,” answered Jack. When the Urania was nearly ready for sea, Jack did contrive to get Tom aboard of her, but the commander’s good intentions were frustrated, for before the ship sailed he deserted with could not again be discovered.
Of this Rayner was thankful, as he must of necessity have done what would have gone greatly against his feelings—ordered Tom a flogging.
Honest Brown, however, who had gone to school as soon as the Lily was paid off; received what he well deserved, his warrant as boatswain of the corvette he had helped to win. He had shortly to go to sea in a dashing frigate, and from that he was transferred to a seventy-four, in which he was engaged in several of England’s greatest battles.
Some years passed, when after paying off the Urania, as Rayner was passing along a street in Exeter, he heard a stentorian voice singing a verse of a sea ditty. The singer, dressed as a seaman, carried on his head the model of a full-rigged ship, which he rocked to and fro, keeping time to the tune. He had two wooden legs in the shape of mopsticks, and was supporting himself with a crutch, while with the hand at liberty he held out a battered hat to receive the contributions of his audience. Occasionally, when numbers gathered round to listen to him, he exchanged his song for a yarn. As Rayner approached he was saying, “This is the way our government treats our brave seamen. Here was I fighting nobly for my king and country, when a Frenchman’s shot spoilt both my legs, and I was left to stump off as best I could on these here timber toes without a shiner in my pocket, robbed of all my hard-earned prize-money. But you good people will, I know, be kind to poor Jack, and fill this here hat of his with coppers to give him a crust of bread and a sup to comfort his old heart.
“‘Come all ye jolly sailors bold,
Whose hearts are cast in honour’s mould,
While England’s glory I unfold,
Huzza to the Arethusa!’”