The medico smelt the tumbler, which stood on the table full of grog, and then felt the youngster’s pulse and looked at his tongue.
“You may take half a glass—it’s quite enough for you, and then we’ll have you wrapped up in blankets, and carried on board,” he answered.
“Oh, thank’ee, Doctor, I’m very comfortable where I am, and my clothes ain’t dried yet; so if you’ll let me stay here, I think it would be the better for me,” said the midshipman.
The Doctor’s objections, if he had any, were soon overruled; and, telling the midshipman to return on board the frigate as soon as his clothes were dry, he quitted the cutter.
“What’s your name, mate?” asked my new friend, as he was sipping his glass of grog.
I told him.
“Mine’s Richard Sharpe; but I’m mostly called Dicky Sharpe,” he answered. “Some of my messmates give me all sorts of names; but I don’t mind them. As long as they don’t cob me, it’s all very well. I’m a happy fellow, and ready for all the ups and downs of life. I’m pretty well wide awake, and know my duty, so I don’t often get mast-headed. If I happen to get a fall, I generally manage to pitch on my feet; and as I’m some day or other to come into a fortune, I’m not troubled about the future. If the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty give me my promotion, it will be all very well; if not, why they’ll have to dispense with my valuable services, and the country will be the loser.”
I was highly edified by Master Dicky’s philosophy, and I at once conceived a great regard and respect for him.
“Now, D’Arcy, my boy,” he continued, in his free and easy tone, “it’s stupid work lying here between the blankets; so if you’ll just give me the loan of some of your toggery till mine are dry, I’ll sit up at table and crack a bottle of wine with you.”
I had to remind him of the early hour, and to confess that wine our mess did not possess, but that he should have some breakfast and hot tea, which would be better for him, and that he should be welcome to my clothes.