The Loss of the Royal George

by William Henry Giles Kingston

This, I am sure, was good advice.

“But, father, I cannot say this to Fanny; she would think me hard-hearted and that I did not really love her,” said Harry.

“If she trusts you, and is a sensible girl, she will see that you are acting rightly,” I answered. “Do what is right, and trust that all will come well in the end. That is a sound maxim, depend on it.”

Harry at last replied that he would think over what I had said.

The next day he told me that he had spoken to Miss Fanny, who, though it made her very unhappy, had at last acknowledged that I was right, and consented to do as I had advised; assuring him, however, that she would never change. I was thankful to hear this, as it saved me from speaking to the captain, which I should have otherwise felt bound to do.

A few days after this I received orders to join the Vestal frigate; and though neither I nor they expected it, Reginald and Harry were appointed as master’s mates to the same ship. I had to go on board at once, and they joined a few days afterwards. We were ordered to fit out with all despatch, and were quickly ready for sea.

I felt sorry at having to leave without again hearing from Jerry, for of course I could not tell what might happen to me; and there was nothing I more desired, for Harry’s sake, than to find out who his parents had been. When I thought what a fine, handsome, gallant young fellow he was, I could not help hoping that he would have no reason to be ashamed of them. At all events, he would not be worse off than he was; and supposing that, after all, his birth was not such as he could boast of, he might still win a name for himself, as many another officer had done, who had, as the saying is, “gone in through the hawse-hole,” just as the renowned Captain Cook and several of our bravest captains and admirals had done.

We had gone out to Spithead, and “Blue Peter” was flying from the fore, when who should come alongside in a boat from Ryde but Susan herself. I had bidden her good-bye, and did not expect to see her again.

“I have brought a letter,” she said; “and as it is from Jerry, I did not like to trust it to anyone else.”

She had just given it to me, when I received the order to “Pipe up anchor”; so all I could do was to shove it into my pocket, while Susan hurried down the side without knowing its contents. This was very trying to her, and I wished that she had looked at it before bringing it off.