Marmaduke Merry: A Tale of Naval Adventures in Bygone Days

by William Henry Giles Kingston

I was ushered with due form into the midshipmen’s berth of the Daring. A large party were assembled, discussing an ample supply of food prepared for breakfast. They seemed a very free and easy set, and it was no fault of theirs if I did not find myself at home; but I was far too anxious to do justice to the good things placed before me, nor could I keep my mind from dwelling on the sad work I believed then going forward. I soon found that the object of the captain’s visit to the shore was no secret. He had been boasting the evening before of what he had done in the duelling way, and congratulating himself on at length being able to reap the revenge he had so long sought, swearing at the time that he would shoot Captain Ceaton through the head, as he would any man who dared to impugn his veracity. Was, then, his remark, that he would only wing him, the result of some momentary compunction of conscience, to be banished by the counsels of that Mephistopheles-like major? I feared so. The midshipmen did not know that Captain Ceaton was my relative, and though some seemed to feel for my anxiety, others only laughed, and told me that I might as well begin to pipe my eye, for by that time my cousin would have a hole drilled through him, I might depend on it. They seemed, indeed, to be proud of their captain’s performances in that way, and anxious to imitate him. Two or three of them boasted of having fought duels with midshipmen of other ships, though, as they used not over sharp cutlasses, there had been no fatal results. I was very glad that I did not belong to the ship, for a more boastful, quarrelsome set of fellows I never fell among. The sort of things Mr Johnson said in joke, they uttered in grave earnest, and they were excessively angry if they were not believed. However, I managed to keep my temper, and at last to eat some breakfast, in spite of my anxiety about my cousin. As soon as I could, I returned on deck, where I was joined by my former acquaintance. He begged that I would not mind what had been said.

“You see,” he observed, “the captain sets the fashion and the greater number follow it. If we had had a different captain, these same fellows would have had very different ideas.”

I have often since then had occasion to make the remark, that, as a rule, drinking, swearing, profligate captains turn out officers of the same character. A brave, virtuous, and good commander cannot make all those under him like himself; but his example will induce imitation among some, and act as a curb to vice among others. Great, indeed, is the responsibility of a captain of a man-of-war; indeed, of any ship where there are officers and men looking up to him. We had not been on deck long when the admiral came off in his barge from the shore, and three or four captains arrived in their gigs, as well as some military men in shore boats. The first-lieutenant made Captain Staghorn’s apologies, saying that affairs of importance had taken him early on shore, but that he would be off immediately.

The admiral walked up and down the deck rather impatiently, and looked annoyed, as if Captain Staghorn was not treating him with proper respect. He was also very hungry probably, and he kept continually pulling out his watch and replacing it hurriedly in his fob. The captains and other officers, aware, probably, of Captain Staghorn’s eccentricities, were less annoyed; but even they at times gave signs of impatience. At length the signal midshipman announced that the captain’s gig was coming off down the harbour. My heart beat quick. I never felt so anxious. Some midshipmen were in the main chains. I joined them, eager to ascertain if my cousin’s boat was also coming down the harbour. I borrowed a glass. After a time I thought that I could distinguish my cousin’s boat coming down. Had he escaped; or had the duel been prevented? I made out two officers seated in the stern, but the boat passed at a distance from the Daring, and I was uncertain who they were. I had been so eagerly watching the Pearl’s gig, that I had not observed the Daring’s, which now approached. A murmur ran through the ship—there was something solemn in the sound. I looked down with an indefinite feeling of dread. Still, I expected to see Captain Staghorn sitting upright, with his disagreeable companion by his side. The major was there, but a human form lay in the stern-sheets, with a boat’s flag thrown over the face, to keep off the buzzing flies which were clustering above it. The murmur increased into unmistakable accents; the captain was dead—shot through the heart. I hurried to the gangway, round which the admiral and officers and men were assembling. The captain had returned at the hour he promised; but how differently! The flag fell from his face as the corpse was being lifted on deck. The eyes were open and staring horribly; the teeth were clenched, and the mouth wore that same bad, disagreeable expression it had worn two short hours before, when, full of life and strength, and confiding in the firmness of his nerve and his correct eye, he had stepped carelessly down the companion-ladder, determined grievously to wound or to take the life of a fellow-creature. The doctor went through the form of examining him to ascertain that he was dead. He lifted up a hand; it fell heavily on the deck.

“There’s no doubt about it,” observed the major, coolly. “You never saw a man alive with a hole drilled through him like that;” and he scientifically pointed out the course the bullet had taken.

The admiral and other officers collected round, and he continued, “I never saw anything more unexpected. He walked to the ground with the air of a man going to a ball, laughing and joking the whole way. Not a muscle shook as he took the pistol and placed himself in position directly I had measured off the ground. I must say that Commander Ceaton behaved with courage and as a gentleman; but it was evident that neither he nor his second had the slightest notion of how to conduct affairs of the sort. Commander Ceaton placed himself with his full front facing his antagonist; and when I remonstrated with his second, as he was not thus giving himself a fair chance, he said that his captain chose to stand in that way, and that he would not change his position. I then returned to my principal. I naturally asked where he intended to hit his opponent. ‘In the head,’ he replied; ‘his very look annoys me.’ I retired to give the signal. Which pistol went off first I do not know; but instead of seeing Commander Ceaton drop, as I expected, I saw my principal leap into the air and fall flat to the ground; while Commander Ceaton stood unmoved. I never saw a man so cut up about a thing. I should have supposed that he had killed a friend, instead of a deadly enemy. We had positively to send the doctor to him to prevent his fainting. And poor Staghorn here, he never expected such an ending.”

“But never was one more richly deserved,” muttered the admiral, turning away with a look of thorough disgust at the major’s cold-blooded indifference to his friend’s awful death.

However, the admiral and other officers retired into the cabin to discuss the breakfast prepared for them, though their host was not present, with what appetite I cannot say. As I could not get an answer to the note I had brought, I returned to the Doris to report what had occurred.

“He has met his deserts; and yet how awful,” said Captain Collyer half aloud, as I told him of Captain Staghorn’s death.

All in our berth were eager to hear what I had to tell them about the duel, and I could not help observing how different the remarks of my messmates were from those which had been uttered in the Daring’s berth. Hearty satisfaction was also expressed that my cousin had escaped. I was eager to go on board the Pearl to congratulate him and to take him back Bertha’s package, as I now knew why he had given it to me. I could not, however, go till the evening, when Mr Bryan gave me leave to take the dinghy. I sent down my name, and was told to go into the cabin. I found Captain Ceaton seated at a table, with a book before him. He lifted up his head from his hand, on which it had been resting, when I entered. I had never seen so great a change in any person in so short a time. His countenance was pale and haggard, his eyes sunk, and his whole look would have made me suppose that he had undergone a year of the most severe mental suffering, or some painful illness of still longer duration. I was going to congratulate him on having come off the victor, but I could not bring out the words I had intended to use. I merely murmured out, “I am so very glad you are alive. I have brought back the package for Bertha. I know now why you gave it to me.”