Adam’s hands had been busy under the table with his handkerchief; now, suddenly leaning forward, he grasped Dicky by the crop of the neck, and before he had time to expostulate, he had him in such a position that he could apply with the greatest effect the instrument of torture he had manufactured. As all the oldsters sided with Adam, the youngsters dared not interfere; and poor Dicky was held in that undignified position while other handkerchiefs were knotted, and before he was cast loose he received a cobbing which made him treat ever afterwards all the oldsters with abundant respect. But Dicky, if he did not forget, did what was as wise, he forgave; and I do not think he nourished the slightest ill-will against his cobbers.
Of Captain Poynder I have spoken. He was a worthy man and a good officer; and if he had a fault, it was not being sufficiently strict.
Then comes Johnny Du Pre, our gallant First. I have still an affectionate regard for Johnny, though many an hour have I spent at our masthead at his instigation; while Dicky, promoted by the like authority, was taking sights at me from another. We were sent there not without cause, I own, and still the amount of moral turpitude which gained us that elevated distinction was not such as to make me blush as I think of it, or to make me anxious to conceal it from the public. Neither as a first-lieutenant nor as a man was Lieutenant Du Pre perfect; but who is there with whom one cannot find a fault. He was kind-hearted, a fair seaman, and anxious to do his duty.
But our second lieutenant, Basil Vernon, was still more worthy of notice. Refined and elegant both in person and manners, he appeared, at first sight, to be what is called a fine gentleman; but kind-hearted, brave, and generous almost to a fault, a first-rate seaman and officer, a better fellow never stepped, nor one more beloved by all classes afloat, as well as by all who knew him on shore. I soon became very much attached to him, and would have gone round the world to do him a service. Many times did he save me from punishment when I specially deserved it. He was indeed very far from being one of those fine fellows whom no ordinary mortals can approach; for he had a heart tender as a woman’s, and he would as readily sympathise with the grief of the smallest middy, as with the sorrow or suffering of the roughest tar on board. He was a sincere Christian too, and, what was more, was not ashamed of his Christianity. He exhibited his principles in his practice—in the daily duties of life,—till he taught the most profane and profligate to respect him, if not to adopt them. I wish there were more Basil Vernons in the service. Thank Heaven! there are some shining lights to lighten us in our darkness—leaven, which gradually, though slowly, may, by God’s providence, leaven the whole mass.
Our third lieutenant, Hugh Summers, wrote poetry, talked sentiment, and dreamed dreams, and required a flapper to remind him when to put the ship about at times; but when once aroused into action, he was as energetic as any one, and had plenty of resources on an emergency.
The master, surgeon, and purser, were also very good fellows in their way, and if not shining ornaments, were no disgrace to His Majesty’s service.
At last the pay-clerks came on board, and paid the ship’s company. A fine bright morning saw the signal flying from the admiral’s ship for the fleet to weigh and work out to Saint Helen’s. There was a nice working breeze, a blue sky, and the water just rippled enough to reflect with more dazzling splendour the rays of the glorious sun, as he shed them almost along the path we were to pursue. It was, in truth, a beautiful sight; and considering the number of ships—some eighteen sail or more, all beating out together within so narrow a channel,—it was surprising that much damage was not done, especially when it is remembered that the crews of half the ships had never been to sea before, and that the ropes were stiff and new, and did not work well. One ship, I believe, carried away her flying jib-boom against the stern of another; and with that slight loss, and a small expenditure of abuse from the respective crews, who thought each other to blame, we reached Saint Helen’s. The next day we were fairly off to sea; the fleet formed in two lines, the White and the Blue Squadrons, which Sir Peppery manoeuvred with much skill, to the no small trouble of the signal midshipmen. The second day, Ned Lenny, the young gentleman on board the Harold who held that office, vowed he must leave the service and go into the Dragoons, if it was to be carried on in that way; though the following morning he thought better of it. He gained, however, the sobriquet of the Heavy, which, as he was a cocksparrow of a fellow, he retained ever afterwards. Captain Poynder was not inclined to save either officers or crew till we got into good order, which we accordingly did our best to accomplish.
After cruising for six weeks, we were ordered to Spithead to complete our provisions, water, and stores; and then, having taken some passengers on board, made all sail for our station in Mediterranean.
We had not been long at sea when Dicky and I, wearying of the daily routine of duty, began to play pranks which were calculated to bring us into trouble. The boatswain, who rejoiced in the name of Timotheus Trundle, was one of the most extraordinary of his class, though not a bad boatswain for all that. His appearance in foul weather was that of a short lump of big coats and trousers, with a small red pumpkin growing out of them. On a nearer approach, one discovered in the said pumpkin a pair of red, ferrety eyes, an excrescence for a nose, and a hole into which his whistle fitted for a mouth, and on either side of it, on a Sunday morning, two very high shirt-collars, they towards the end of the week gaining a darker hue and an outward curve. On the top of the pumpkin was a round Spanish hat, the fluff of the catskin which composed it being long enough to make a dozen beavers. He wore, with considerable pride, round his neck a handsome silver call and chain. But with all his oddities, his enemies—and he had a few—were obliged to confess that he knew and did his duty as well as any man in the ship. Among his other qualifications, he was a bit of a sea-lawyer; not of the cantankerous sort, however, for it might be more justly said that he preferred sitting on the judicial bench, and he was ever ready to settle all disputes either by arbitration or the rope’s-end; indeed, in most cases he had recourse to the latter, as being the most summary mode of proceeding. When his duty did not require his presence on his own territory, the forecastle, he was fond of taking a walk on the main-deck, alongside the carpenter’s bench, for he was of a social disposition, and delighted in what he called ‘rasheral’ conversation.
Now, Ichabod Chissel, our carpenter, was another of those heroes of the tongue, who pretend to know everything, and never fail in a story for want of a little invention. By his own crew, who looked up to him and esteemed him for his sterling qualities, he was considered a first-rate politician. The two officers were tolerably good friends in general; but a very slight thing would make them fall out, though they as speedily patched up their quarrels again.