Poor Billy had been brushing the hat at a port with too great vehemence, and sent it flying overboard. He might possibly have seen something dark floating towards Hurst, and his shipmates, who were always practising on his credulity, probably persuaded him that it was the captain’s hat. Many captains, in those days, would have given him a couple of dozen, or put him on nine-water grog for a month. Captain Collyer very soon forgot all about the matter, except when he told the story as a good joke. On the present occasion he had to borrow a cocked hat; and it was not till we had been in action, and one of the officers was killed, that he could get fitted with one of his own.
The captain had a goat, which was a source of much amusement to us youngsters, and of annoyance to Mr Lukyn, the first-lieutenant; for, as if aware that she did belong to the captain, she made no scruple of invading the quarter-deck, and soiling its purity. One day, my first acquaintance on board—the tall, gaunt midshipman with red hair, who, by the bye, went by the name of Miss Susan—with two or three other youngsters and me, was standing on our side of the deck, when Nancy, the goat, released from her pen, came prancing up to us. We, as usual, made grabs at her horns and tail, and somewhat excited her temper. Now, she began to butt at us, and made us fly, right and left. Miss Susan was capsized, and sent sprawling on the deck; and Nancy, highly delighted at her victory, frisked off to the starboard side, where Mr Lukyn, with all the dignity of a first-lieutenant, was walking the deck with his glass under his arm. Nancy, either mistaking his long legs for the stems of the trees and shrubs of her native hills, or wishing to repeat the experiment which had succeeded so well with regard to Miss Susan, made a furious butt at his calves while he was walking aft, unconscious of her approach. The effect must have been beyond Nancy’s utmost expectations, as it was beyond ours. Our gallant first never appeared very firm on his pins, and, the blow doubling his knees, down he came, stern first, on the deck with his heels in the air, while the goat, highly delighted at her performance, and totally unconscious of her gross infraction of naval discipline, frolicked off forward in search of fresh adventures.
Just at that moment up came Billy Wise with a message from the captain.
Now Mr Lukyn rarely gave way to anger, but this was an occasion to try his temper. Picking himself up from his undignified posture, “Hang the goat,” he exclaimed in a loud tone; “who let the creature loose?” Billy did not know, but having delivered his message, away he went forward; while we endeavoured to conceal, as far as we could, the fits of laughter in which we were indulging. Miss Susan’s real name was Jacob Spellman. Some short time after this, I was going along the main-deck with him, when we found the captain’s steward very busy splicing an eye in a rope, close to the cattle-pen, where Nancy had her abode. We walked on a little way, and then turned round to watch him. Having formed a running noose, he put it round the goat’s neck, and dragged her out of the pen. He then got a tub and made her stand upon it while he passed the rope over a hook in the beam above. Hauling away as hard as he could, he gave the tub a kick, and there hung poor Nancy, in a most uncomfortable position, very nearly with her neck dislocated; but as he had not calculated on her power of standing on her hind legs, the result he expected was unaccomplished, and she was not altogether deprived of life. She struggled, however, so violently that she would very soon have been strangled had not old Perigal, who was mate of the main-deck, come up and seen what was going forward. “Why, man, what are you about?” he exclaimed. “Please, sir, I be hanging the goat,” was Billy’s reply.
“Hanging the goat! who told you to do that?” inquired Perigal.
“It was the first-lieutenant, sir. She knocked him over right flat on the deck, and so he told me to go and hang her.”
“Well, you are a precious—,” exclaimed the old mate. “Let free the beast, and thank your stars that you didn’t hang her. The captain is a wonderfully good-natured man, there can be no doubt of it; but even he wouldn’t have stood having his goat hung.”
Of course I do not dress the language of my shipmates with the expletives in which many of them were apt to indulge, when the use of strange oaths and swearing of all descriptions was more common than even at present, when the practice would be more honoured in the breach than in the observance. One thing I must say, I never heard our gallant captain utter an oath or abuse a man during the whole time I had the happiness of serving under him, and a braver, more spirited, or more sensible man never trod the deck of a man-of-war as her chief. His memory is dear, not only to all those who served with him, but to all of high or low degree who knew him during his long and glorious naval career. His manners were mild and gentle—though he had an abundance of humour and spirit. He could, however, when he thought it necessary, speak with the gravest severity to a delinquent. I never saw any man more cool and calm and thoughtful in action. It may truly be said of him that in battle he was as brave as a lion, and in peace as gentle as a lamb. I could not resist uttering this panegyric on our well-loved captain.
To return to Billy Wise and the goat. The poor animal’s life was saved, though she had a strange way of stretching out her neck for some weeks afterwards, and always gave Billy a wide berth when she encountered him in her rambles about the decks.
When the captain heard the account, instead of being angry, he laughed heartily, and added the story to his batch of anecdotes.