“There was all the wind I could make,” blurted out the lieutenant, who had now got sober, and was as much ashamed of himself as it was in his nature to be. “However, Captain Collyer, you know my zeal for the service, and there isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for its good.”
“Even to make use of your breeches as a sail, and compelling your mouth to do duty as Molus,” said the captain, gravely. “However, Mr Fitzgerald, though I never like making mountains of molehills, don’t let your zeal, or your love of a joke, carry you so far again. Discipline would quickly vanish if the officers were to forget their dignity, as you did just now. No officer should ever appear in public without his breeches.”
“I’ll make a note of that, Captain Collyer, and take care that it never again occurs,” answered Mr Fitzgerald, with inimitable gravity, but with an expression on his comical features which made our good-natured skipper almost burst into a fit of laughter.
Two or three nights after this, while it was Mr Fitzgerald’s watch, in which I was placed, it being very dark, the frigate, without any warning, was struck by a heavy squall, which threw her in an instant on her beam ends. I thought that she was going down. There was a loud crash—the fore-topmast had gone over the side. Lightning flashed from the sky; the thunder roared. A loud clap was heard overhead—the main-topsail had split, and, rent in fragments, was carried out of the bolt-ropes, lashing itself in fury round the yard. All seemed confusion. Everybody on the first crash had rushed on deck, mostly in very scanty costume. The captain had slipped on his coat, which, with his shirt and slippers, formed his costume. There he stood, his shirt tails fluttering in the breeze, while with his deep-toned voice he was bringing order out of seeming chaos. When the main-topsail went the frigate righted. We had work enough to do to clear the wreck of the fore-topmast and all its hamper, and it was broad daylight before the captain could leave the deck. When the ship was put a little to rights, and those officers who had appeared in limited costume had gone below to don the usual amount of dress, Mr Fitzgerald walked up to Mr Bryan, the first-lieutenant, and said—
“I wish, Bryan, that you would ascertain what are and what are not the regulations of this ship. Two days ago the captain told me that it was against his express orders that any officers should appear on the quarter-deck without their breeches, and now he appears himself without his, and so do Haisleden and the master, and some other fellows besides.”
“There are some occasions when it does not do to stick at trifles,” answered Mr Bryan, who found it very necessary to humour his eccentric brother officer.
“Well, at all events, the captain cannot find fault with me after that,” said the second lieutenant; “I am always saying the same—I never stick at trifles.”
“No, indeed you do not; but sometimes it is just as well to look at them, and ascertain if they are trifles,” observed Mr Bryan.
It was found that the frigate had received so much damage that it was necessary to put back to Port Royal. It was a matter of very little consequence to us midshipmen. We were chiefly interested because we knew that we should get a supply of fresh meat and vegetables, which we preferred to the salt pork and weevilly biscuits served out to the navy in those days, and for very many days later; indeed, where is the naval officer, under the rank of a commander, or I may say a lieutenant, who does not tap every bit of biscuit on the table before he puts it into his mouth? He taps mechanically now, but he learned the habit when it was necessary to knock out the weevils.
We soon had the ship as much to rights as circumstances would allow. In the evening Grey and I went below, and found the boatswain seated on a stool in his cabin, with his legs stretched out at full length before him.