“You think so?” remarked Ned Rawlings. “Now do you just get near, and have a look at his eye, and you will sing a different song. It’s not always the rough-and-ready looking chaps, like you and I, Tom, as are the best men for work!”
Our captain certainly did look more fit for a ball-room, or a naval officer in love on the stage, than for the deck of a man-of-war. He was the most polished article about his whole ship. His whiskers were curled; his cheeks were pink; the gold lace on his coat shone with undimmed lustre, not a particle of dust rested on the fine cloth of which it was made, while it fitted with perfection to his well-formed figure. Kid gloves covered his hands, and a fine cambric handkerchief appeared from his breast-pocket. He bowed to the flag, and he bowed to the officers, as he cast a scrutinising glance round the deck. Some of the older officers pulled rather long faces when they saw him. In a short time, he ordered all hands to come aft, and then, in a clear, somewhat soft voice, made a long speech. The sum total of it was, that he was determined to have a crack ship, and a crack crew, and that he did not like to use the lash, but that he did not always do what he liked; still, that he always would have done what he wanted done. The men could not quite make him out, nor could I; but I came to the conclusion, that he was not just the sort of man to whom I should like to carry such a message as Master Plumb had requested me to give.
Next day we went out to Spithead. No signs of my friend. I told Sergeant Turbot that I thought Master Richard Plumb would not come after all.
“Perhaps not,” he answered; “Mrs Brigadier does not like to part from him, or maybe they are washing and combing him, and making him fit to come aboard, which I suppose occupied the time of a certain person who should be nameless, and prevented him joining us till yesterday. Maybe, young master has thought better of the matter, and would rather go for a parson, or one of those chaps as goes to foreign courts to bamboozle the people.”
I, at all events, made up my mind that I should see no more of Master Richard. However, scarcely had I come to this conclusion, than a large wherry came alongside, and a card was sent up for the captain.
“Certainly,” he answered.
The boatswain’s mate whistled; the side boys were called away, I being one of them, and we hastened to our posts on the accommodation-ladder. There, in a boat, sat Mrs Brigadier, with the Brigadier on one side and Master Richard on the other, and the two young ladies I had before seen. Mrs Brigadier, putting her hand on the shoulder of one of the men who was holding on the bow stepped up the accommodation-ladder with a dignified air, followed humbly by the Brigadier. Then came the young ladies. Young master followed his sisters in a spick-and-span new uniform, looking especially well pleased at himself. As he came up he espied me. That there was no pride in him, he showed by an inclination to shake hands with me. But against this there were two reasons: first, I should have fallen from my perch, and then it would have been decidedly against nautical etiquette.
“Why, Jack, shall I have to do this sort of work?” he asked, as he passed me.
“I think not, sir,” I answered, for I had learned to say “sir” to a uniform. “I am a side boy, you are a midshipman.”
“Oh, ay, that makes a difference,” he observed, following up his sisters; and I do believe he gave the last a pinch in the ankles, as he pretended to keep down her petticoats, for she kicked out behind, missing his nose, though, narrowly. The whole party were soon on deck, where the captain stood to receive them, bowing with formal politeness to Mrs Brigadier and to the Brigadier, as well as to the young ladies. He cast a very different sort of glance at young master, who came up, no way disconcerted, by the side of his father.