The Three Midshipmen

by William Henry Giles Kingston

The eager faces of several midshipmen were seen at the gangway, looking out to ascertain the fact by ocular demonstration.

“It’s quite true, Paddy Adair is found, Paddy Adair is found,” exclaimed a dozen voices in joyful tones. The words were taken up, and echoed along the deck, “Paddy Adair is found; hurrah for Paddy Adair!” Especially vociferous were his own messmates, who were delighted to get him back again, and happy at the same time to have an excuse for using their lungs. The boats were hoisted up, and Paddy, having changed his wet Turkish costume for a dry midshipman’s uniform, was sent for into the cabin to give an account of his adventures to Captain Lascelles. He, however, reserved a still more detailed account to give to his messmates in full conclave assembled in the midshipmen’s berth. The only person on board who had not heard of Adair’s arrival was Pigeon. He had laid down after breakfast on a sofa in the first lieutenant’s cabin, and gone fast asleep. About luncheon-time he awoke, and rubbing his eyes sat up, and feeling hungry after all the excitement and fright he had gone through, arose and went into the gun-room. Finding no one there, he bethought him that he would go and honour the midshipmen with a visit, and talk of what he would have done if the ship had gone into action, and his services had actually been required. He was, somewhat to his surprise, welcomed with a cordiality to which he was not much accustomed. In a short time the conversation turned to the loss of the Onyx, and to the character of Paddy Adair. One said one thing of him, and one or two hazarded slightly disparaging observations. The bait took.

“Oh, he was, I remember, always a foolish dunder-headed Irishman,” observed Pigeon; “I could thrash a dozen such fellows as he was. No one thought anything of him at school, I remember.”

“Oh, bully Pigeon, oh, bully Pigeon, that you know right well wasn’t the case,” exclaimed Paddy, popping his head in at the door of the berth.

Pigeon looked up at hearing the voice, and turning very pale, while his countenance exhibited a look of intense horror, fell back in a fainting fit, which afforded an excellent excuse to several of the youngsters for throwing half a dozen tumblers of water over him. Some of the water was cold, and some was rather hot, but the effect was the same. He got a thorough ducking, and after spluttering not a little, and coughing as the water dashed into his mouth, he quickly recovered his senses. It was some little time, however, before he could be convinced that Paddy Adair in propria persona sat before him. Harmony was soon restored, and Paddy assured him that he did not intend to frighten him so much, and that he hoped he would forgive him. Never was a happier party assembled in the berth at dinner than on that occasion. Paddy’s health was drunk, and he was warmly congratulated on his escape and return on board, even by the seniors of the mess.

“And now, Adair, let us hear all about it,” said Hemming, when the cloth had been removed and the young gentlemen were discussing their walnuts and wine.

“Why, it is not a very long story,” observed Paddy, “for do you see most of the events took place in a somewhat rapid way, my last skylark especially. However, you shall hear. We had just got on board the Onyx, and the commander had ordered the boats to be hoisted up, when, as the men were engaged in the operation, the squall struck her, and over she went in a moment—not a rope parted, nor a sail, I believe—just like a nine-pin knocked over by a ball. I was still in the captain’s gig on the weather side. Feeling her going, or rather gone, I believe it was more from fright or instinct than from any exercise of my reasoning powers, I seized a couple of oars under my arms, slid overboard down her bottom, and struck out with all my might away from the sinking hull. I never struck out so hard in my life, for I felt that I was swimming for my life. I believe that I gave myself a shove off with the oars, which helped me rapidly to increase my distance from the brig. Suddenly I felt myself drawn back, and I thought that I was going to be sucked under water—so I was for a short time; but I held a tight grasp of the oars, and once more quickly rose to the surface. When I looked round there was not a sign of a brig. I shouted, no one answered. I could see no one floating alive on the spot where the trim craft had lately glided in all her pride and beauty. I was alone on the dark troubled sea. The foam dashed in my face, and the waves tumbled me about terribly, and I thought more than once that I should have to let go and sink with the rest. I felt very miserable and very sorry that so many fine fellows had lost their lives, for I was too certain that I alone had escaped, and then I began to think how grateful I ought to be that I had been so mercifully preserved. I can’t talk about that; but I wish you fellows to know that I do not think or feel lightly on the subject, that is all. Night was rapidly coming on, my prospects were far from pleasant, and somewhat limited too, as I could only just make out the tumbling seas on either side of me. I felt pretty certain that the frigate would come back to look after the brig; but scarcely hoped that such a speck as I was would be seen. Still I determined to keep up my spirits, and to hang on to the oars as long as I could. Sometimes I put my legs up over them, and thus I both changed my position and floated very comfortably. Perhaps an hour had passed after the brig had gone down—it appeared as if several had elapsed—when I felt a sort of drowsiness come over me. Suddenly there appeared right over me a big dark object. I guessed that it was the bow of a vessel. I sang out with all my might. She was very nearly running me down. As she did not quite run over me, it was fortunate that she came so close. A rope was hanging over her side; I found my hands grasping it. It must literally have been towed over me; I clutched it with all my might, and found myself hauled up on the deck of a low latine-rigged craft running under her foresail before the squall. The crew had red caps on, and loose trousers, and talked a language I could not understand, so I concluded that they were Turks or Moors, or Egyptians; they were very good-natured though. They took me below and gave me some arrack, which was very nasty, and they took off my wet things, and rigged me out in one of their own suits. When I explained that my ship had gone down, they understood me perfectly. Next they made me eat some lumps of meat off a skewer, with some rice and biscuit, and then signified that I might lie down on a mat in the cabin and go to sleep. I did not awake till morning. I wanted to put on my own uniform again, but they would not give it to me, and I began to fear that they were going really to turn me into a Turk.

“For several days we sailed on. Where we were going to I could not make out, for they would never let me see their compass. At last we made the land somewhere on the coast of Syria, I am pretty certain; and, running in, we found a fifty-gun ship, brought up in a roadstead a couple of miles off the shore. The Mistico went alongside and stores of all sorts and provisions were hoisted up out of her, and then without my leave being asked I found myself transferred, like the rest of the bales of goods, to her deck. I had not had a particularly pleasant time of it among the very dirty crew of the Mistico, so I thought that I might have changed for the better. I was much obliged to them, however, for saving my life; so we parted very good friends, and when the little craft shoved off, I waved them an affectionate farewell. I soon found that I had not much improved my condition. The larger the ship, the greater was the amount of dirt and disorder. No one knew their duty, at all events no one did it. How they managed to exist a day without being blown up or foundering, I do not know. They were constantly smoking with the doors of the magazine open and ammunition scattered about, and night and day with every prospect of a squall, the lower deck ports were ever left open. I got hold of some of the officers, and tried to show them the danger they were running; so they rubbed their caps about their heads and opened their eyes and tried to look very wise, and followed my suggestions. But the next day things were as bad as ever. However, when they found out that I was up to a thing or two, they insisted on making me an officer. What rank I held I never could tell. I only knew that everybody obeyed me, and that none of the officers interfered with my commands. This complaisant conduct did not arise so much from respect for me, as that they might save themselves trouble. I never met with men who seemed to hate it so much, from the captain to the youngest powder-monkey. My great difficulty arose from no one understanding a word I said, nor could I understand anybody. Still, we got on very well under ordinary circumstances by signs. At last I happened to go forward and to utter a few words of English. One of the men forthwith pricked up his ears.

“‘Beg pardon, sir, you’d find an interpreter convenient, I think,’ he said, touching his cap.

“‘What, are you not a Turk?’ said I.