Now I had seen old Growler fumbling with several bottles at the dresser, and as I passed my nose over the tumbler which his wife placed near me, a certain rank odour arose from it which I did not like. How to avoid drinking it I was puzzled, as I did not wish to show the suspicion I felt that it was drugged. Luckily the tumbler stood on a little round table by itself; so I jumped up on a sudden, as if something had stung me, and upset the table with the tumbler and its contents! Old Growler pretended to be very sorry for the accident, and insisted on mixing another. “No, thank you, master,” I answered; “I’ve been very clumsy, and must pay the penalty by the loss of the grog.” The couple looked at each other and then at me with such an evil glance, that I believe had it not been for my companions they would at that moment have turned me out into the street.
There were six seamen in the room, lately discharged from different merchantmen. The house was at the end of a dirty, narrow court, all the inhabitants of which were of the lowest description. As we were sitting smoking, a tap was heard at the door. Old Growler went to it. Several questions were asked by a person outside. He came back in a hurry, and beckoned to his wife to come and answer them. “There are some man-of-war’s men outside,” said he. “They say that they are come to look for a deserter. They’ll soon make my missus open the door, so you’ve no time to lose, my lads. Be quick, then; through the door, and stowaway in the coal-shed.” The house had a back-door, or it would not have been fit for old Growler’s purposes; and the door opened into what they called a garden, but it was a bit of dirty barren ground, strewn with broken bricks and crockery, and bits of rotten wood, with some tumble-down sheds on either side of it. In one of these he proposed we should hide. As we opened the door, however, to rush out, we found ourselves confronted by a dozen stout seamen; and before we could make the slightest resistance, we were all of us bound hand and foot. The front-door being opened, an officer and several men entered through it, and a large party of us assembled in Mrs Growler’s kitchen. The lieutenant and midshipman who commanded the press-gang took very coolly the abuse which our worthy host and hostess so liberally bestowed on them. We were allowed to go, two and two at a time, under escort, to collect our traps, and then marched down to a couple of boats waiting for us at the quay. In a short time we were put on board a cutter, with a number of other men who had been picked up in a similar way. There was a good deal of grumbling, and some of the men seemed to have been very hardly dealt with; but I cannot say that my change of lot made me particularly unhappy.
Another night’s foray on shore considerably increased our numbers; besides which several volunteers, mostly landsmen, were obtained, and the cutter then sailed to discharge her passengers into the ships most requiring men. I and several others found ourselves going up the side of His Majesty’s ship Glutton, of 50 guns, commanded by Captain Henry Trollope. As I stood on the deck looking about me, previous to being summoned aft, I saw on the other side the tall figure of a man whose back was turned towards me. My heart beat with surprise and joy, for I felt almost sure he must be Peter Poplar. He shortly turned his head. I was right. He was no other than my old friend. I sprung over to him, and warmly grasped his hand. He started when he saw me, stared at me with astonishment, and for a minute could not speak.
“Is it really you, Jack?” he at length exclaimed. “Why, lad, I thought you were dead. I was told that you had been lost overboard from the Juno.”
“So I was,” said I; “but I was found by an old friend, who in the end played me a somewhat scurvy trick.” And I told him in a few words all that had occurred to me since we had been paid off from the Syren.
“Well, I am right glad to see you, lad—that I am,” he exclaimed, again wringing my hand.
My yarn was scarcely out when I was summoned to have my name entered on the ship’s books, and to hear my rating, which was that of “able seaman.” The Glutton had been an Indiaman, measuring 1400 tons, and had been purchased into the service. She was now armed with the then newly-invented carronades, 68-pounders on the lower, and 32-pounders on the upper deck. This was a weight of metal no ship had, I believe, previously carried; and Captain Trollope was very anxious to try its effect on the ships of the enemy, rightly believing that it would not a little astonish them.
Our first cruise was off the coast of Flanders. We had not long to wait before an enemy was seen. On the 15th of July, when the days were longest and the weather fine, early in the afternoon six ships were seen from the mast-head running before the wind; and soon afterwards, further to leeward, appeared a brig and a cutter, which they were apparently bearing down to join. I was at the helm when the captain made out what they were.
“Four French frigates and two corvettes. They will just suit us!” said he, shutting up his glass with a smile of satisfaction.
“A heavy squadron for one ship to attack,” observed one of the lieutenants.