The Three Lieutenants

by William Henry Giles Kingston

The frigate and corvette sailed forward on their course across the Atlantic, with every stitch of canvas they could carry set slow and aloft. Two or three times they were totally becalmed, when the officers of the two ships paid visits to each other. Murray, with Archy Gordon, had come on board the Plantagenet.

“Well, Gordon, how do you get on aboard the corvette?” was the natural question put by Tom.

“Vary weel, but we’ve much the same sort of thing to do every day; washing and holy-stoning decks in the morning, and exercising at the guns and mail arms in the forenoon, and studying navigation and seamanship, and sic like,” answered Archy.

“Faith, that’s what we’ve to do here,” said Gerald. “I came to sea to enjoy some fun; but we’ve not had much of it yet, though, to be sure, we lead a jolly life, take it all in all.”

“The fun will come in time,” observed Tom. “We never can tell what will turn up—perhaps before long—who knows?”

Murray was with Jack and Terence in the gun-room.

“Well, and how does old Babbicome get on?” asked Jack.

“He is amusing enough, but not altogether satisfactory as a commander,” answered Murray. “He and Haultaut are continually disputing, and he never comes on deck without finding fault, at which Haultaut very naturally sets up his back, and generally finishes by going below. The commander seldom attempts to carry on duty, and that only in fine weather, without making some egregious blunder, and he always excuses himself by observing, ‘I don’t admire the new-fangled ways you young men have of doing things. We managed matters very differently on board the old Orion, I can tell you,’ or, as he walks up and down the deck examining everything not in existence when he was last at sea, he exclaims, ‘We’ll change all this presently—it doesn’t come up to my notions; never saw thingumbobs fitted in this way before.’ We have eaten most of his sheep, as it was necessary to kill them for want of provender; but if the rest live till we reach Madeira, he will, I conclude, lay in a fresh supply. His pigs are, however, his great delight. He gloats over them, and spends an hour every day in currying them as he would a horse. They do him credit, for they are as sleek and fat as poodles. Though he avows that he is fond of pork, I suspect that he will never bring himself to order one of them to be slaughtered. To his credit I must say that he does not swear at the men; he is not, however, liked by them. When a lieutenant he got the name of ‘Jib-and-Foresail Jack,’ and it sticks to him still. When he had the watch at night he would be always bothering them to alter sails, and it was, they say, ‘Up jib,’ and ‘Down jib,’ and ‘Up foresail’ and ‘Down foresail’ every minute. He carries on much in the same way at present, and seldom comes on deck without shaking his head as he looks aloft, and shouting out ‘Another pull at the lee-braces, Mr Haultaut;—we always trimmed sails properly on board the old Orion, sir,’ or some such complimentary remark to our much-enduring first. The boatswain has a dog—a favourite with the men—which goes by the no uncommon name of Shakings. The commander detests Shakings, who he unjustly declares worries his sheep. One evening poor Shakings fell overboard. The men were in despair, knowing that the commander would not dream of heaving-to to pick him up. I saw what had occurred, and was going to intercede for the dog when I heard a voice from forward sing out, ‘One of the captain’s pigs overboard—there he goes astern.’ The commander ran to the taffrail. Just then there was a splash, and as I looked over the side I saw one of his sleek pigs swimming as fast it could away from the ship. The commander soon caught sight of his favourite. The ship was hove-to, a boat lowered, and the boatswain, who jumped into her and managed to pick up the dog before he reached the other animal, avowed roundly that Shakings had jumped overboard to save the pig.”

Jack and Terence laughed heartily at Murray’s account of his commander, given as it was with all the gravity imaginable.

“Well, we bear with him as best we can,” he added, “and only hope that he may ere long return to the bosom of his family, and to the congenial pursuits which occupy his thoughts.”