Story 8—Chapter 2.
Three years passed by. I had been seized with an ardent desire to go to sea, and as my parents had never been in the habit of thwarting my wishes, they could not refuse me this somewhat unreason able one in a young gentleman heir to some fifteen thousand a year. What they might have done had I been an only son I do not know, but as I had several brothers and sisters, they considered, I conclude, that should I be expended in fighting my country’s battles, my place as heir might readily be supplied by my next brother, who highly applauded my determination. To do him justice, however, I am very certain that he had no selfish motives in so doing; indeed, his great wish was to be allowed to go also, and share my fortunes.
The matter settled, while my father wrote to our county member to beg that he would look out for a good ship for me, I wrote to my tailor, directing him to make me a uniform without delay, and to arrange my outfit. Young gentlemen with large expectations are as fond of fine clothes as are sometimes poor ones; and on the day my uniform arrived, and during three months or so afterwards, I took every opportunity of wearing it in public. Young as I was, I was made a good deal of in the neighbourhood, and it thus became pretty widely known that I was about to go to sea; or, as I told people, with no small amount of vanity, to become an officer in the navy.
I believe that very few young gentlemen ever went to sea with a better kit than I had when I at length was directed to join the Ianthe frigate, of forty guns, commanded by Captain Hansome. I found that I was not thought nearly so much of on board as I had been in our county, at those houses where five or six flaxen-haired young ladies formed part of the family. I remember that Jack wrote me word, however, that they had begun to make fully as much of him on one occasion when it was supposed that war would break out, and on another when it was reported that the frigate had been sent to the West Indies; but that might have been only his fancy.
My father was unwell, so the steward took me to Portsmouth, and he, not liking the look of the somewhat foam-covered Solent Sea, sent me off under the charge of a waterman in a shore boat to the ship, which lay at Spithead. We had a dead beat, and I was very sick before we got half-way across. The first lieutenant was on deck as I crawled up the side.
“You have not been to sea before,” he observed, glancing at my woe-begone countenance, and then at the numberless articles handed up after me. “A pity your friends hadn’t any one to tell them that a frigate has no lumber-room for the stowage of empty boxes. Boy! send Mr Owen here.”
The lieutenant did not wait for an answer, and I stood expecting some other remark to be made to me, but he did not deign to address me again. While looking about and wondering at the strange appearance of the frigate’s deck, of which I had no previous conception, I saw a broad-shouldered man, with large whiskers and a sunburnt countenance, in the uniform of a master’s mate, appear from below, and approach. He touched his cap to the lieutenant, without looking at me, and asked for what he wanted him.
“To take charge of this youngster, Mr Owen,” answered the lieutenant. “You must dispose of his traps as you best can. The superfluous ones will, I doubt not, be soon expended. Introduce him to the mess, and see that he gets into no mischief.”