“D’Arcy, I have taken a fancy to you, and I want to give you some good advice,” remarked my companion, after some time. “Just remember what I say, and it will be useful to you in elbowing your way, as you must, through this crowded world. First, then, keep that potato-trap of yours shut, except when you want to catch potatoes in it; and your eyes and ears open on all occasions. There is little harm in knowing a thing, but there is a very great deal in repeating it; and much harm often in letting others be aware that you do know it. Then, my boy, always remember to look before you leap, and not to let go one rope before you have a firm gripe of another. You pretty boys from green Erin’s Isle are too apt to do things in a hurry—to knock a fellow down, and then to ask his pardon, on finding that he wasn’t the man you intended to floor; like the Irish soldier officer who declared that anchovies grew on the walls of Gibraltar, and when he had shot his friend for doubting his statement, recollected that it was capers he meant.”
I laughed at Hanks’ old story, though it was a hit against my countrymen; for I have always found it far better to laugh off anything said against one’s self, than to put on the dignities and to look grand. Laughter and good humour are like polished shields, which make the shafts of satire glance off on either side; but sulkiness and dignity are sure to bring them thick around them.
Our conversation was interrupted by the cry of “A sail on the weather bow!” The wind was about south-east, and the cutter’s head was up Channel. I went to report her to the Commander, who immediately came on deck, and, looking at her attentively through his glass, ordered a boat to be lowered. He then returned below, and brought up a package.
“Mr D’Arcy,” said he—and I felt very grand to be so called,—“take this parcel on board yonder ship. I think I know her. If she is bound to —, leave it with the master, to be delivered immediately on his arrival; if not, bring it back.” I forget now the name of the place he mentioned.
“Ay, ay, sir,” I answered; and jumping into the boat, shoved off. Jack Stretcher, who, in consequence of his behaviour with the smugglers, had gained the estimation of all on board, was with me in the boat. Away we pulled towards the ship with rapid strokes, for we knew that the faster we pulled the less distance we should have to go. We were about half-way between the cutter and the ship, when a bank of mist came rolling slowly along from the southern horizon, the opposite extremities seeming to close in, till a circle was formed around us, still, however, having the cutter and the ship within its confines. On we rowed, the circle growing smaller and smaller, till, by the time we reached the ship, our own vessel was completely shrouded from view. As I knew exactly where she was, that did not trouble me. The ship proved to be the one I was sent to board—the Ajax, I think, was her name.
I delivered my despatches. The master asked me down into the cabin to take a glass of wine, which it would have been against the principles of a midshipman to refuse. I took two or three, and ate some cold chicken and ham into the bargain. There were, I remember, a number of passengers, who were very civil, and some gave me letters to take on shore; indeed it is just possible that one of the reasons why I was so hospitably entertained was that time might be obtained to finish and close the said letters. At last the package of farewells, last words, and before-forgotten directions, being ready, I tumbled with it into the boat, and shoved off to return to the cutter.
I calculated that she bore about north-north-west from the ship; and not having a compass, the last thing I did was to take a careful glance at the one on board. I then pulled away, thinking that I should not lose sight of the merchantman before we got hold of our own craft. In about ten minutes I found that I was not a little mistaken. I had told Stretcher, who was pulling stroke-oar, to keep his eye on the ship, while I, meantime, was looking out for the cutter. Every moment I expected to see her; but, as we advanced, the fog appeared to rise up with redoubled thickness around us; and my difficulty was still further increased when Jack Stretcher exclaimed—
“I can’t see the ship nowhere, sir! She was there not a moment ago, and just as I passed my hand over my brow, she was gone.”
“Well, we must pull on,” I exclaimed. “If we keep the breeze on the starboard quarter, we cannot be far wrong.”
However, not many minutes afterwards, the wind, true to its proverbial character of fickleness, died away, and we were left without any guide by which to steer our course across the trackless deep. Still we pulled on, I fancied, in the direction of the coast. We should have been wise had we laid on our oars, and gone to sleep. As I could not see ahead, I steered by the wake astern, and was under the impression that I was keeping a wonderfully straight line. How long we had gone on I can scarcely tell, when we heard the sound of a gun booming along the water; but, instead of coming from the direction in which we were steering, it seemed to be astern of us. Still we thought it must be the cutter firing. The men even declared that they knew the sound of the gun. The probability was, certainly, that it was her gun, as she would be sure to fire to show her whereabouts to us; and it was not likely that any other vessel near us would be firing for a similar purpose. Although I was very confident, from the straight wake I fancied I had kept, that Jack was mistaken, and that the sound of the gun had come from some other vessel, yet I yielded to his opinion, and pulled in the direction whence we thought it proceeded. We had not made good a quarter of a mile when we again heard the sound; but still, to our surprise and vexation, it was indubitably right astern.