The Three Midshipmen

by William Henry Giles Kingston

“This is my last half,” said Jack; “I’ve made up my mind to be a sailor, and my father says I may; and an admiral, a friend of ours, has promised to get me a ship; and so it’s all settled, and I’m going.”

“Are you, old fellow? how capital!” exclaimed Terence. “I’ve been asked if I would go to sea, and I said yes; for there’s nothing else I want to do that I know of, but I little thought you would be going too. Well, that is good, and clenches the matter.”

“I am very glad to hear it,” cried Murray; “it is what I have been longing to do for years past, almost since I could read. The only profession I felt that I should ever like was the navy, but I never saw a chance till these holidays of being able to go into it. I believe it is settled; I shall know shortly, I hope.”

“What, are we all three going? how capital! What fun we will have,” cried Jack. “Of course they’ll let you. Oh, hang it, you must go with us.” Murray seldom talked much of what he wished to do, or expressed his feelings, except perhaps to a trusted friend like Jack, but of the three companions he had probably the strongest will, and when he had set his mind on an object, no one could exert himself more resolutely to accomplish it. He wrote and wrote to his friends, expressing his wish in as strong terms as he could, giving many excellent reasons for having formed it. Before many weeks had passed, Murray received a letter. The contents would have made Jack and Terence throw up their caps and shout, had they under similar circumstances received it. He felt a choking sensation, and the tears sprang to his eyes. All his long-cherished hopes were about to be accomplished. He had the promise from the First Lord of the Admiralty of an appointment speedily to a ship. The half came to an end, the school broke up, and the boys separated with all animosities and quarrels sunk in oblivion; and in the belief that they should meet each other again soon, if not at school, somewhere or other. Jack went home, and was then sent, by the advice of his naval friend, to an academy at Portsmouth, where young gentlemen were prepared for the navy. Jack wanted to become a real sailor, so he set to work manfully to stow away all the navigation he could pick up. He soon also made himself known and respected among his companions, much in the same way that he had done at his old school. At last he heard that he was appointed to a ship, but that he was to go home before joining to take leave. He was first to go to Selby the tailor, to get measured for his outfit.

“You’ll like to have your uniform at once, sir,” observed Mr Selby; “most young gentlemen do.” Jack thought it would be very nice, as his best clothes were already shabby; so in an incredibly short space of time he found himself exactly fitted in his naval habiliments with a dirk by his side, and a gold-lace cap. He did not like to wear them in the street, “lest he should appear conspicuous,” he observed to a schoolfellow, so he did not put them on till he was ready to start in the morning by the coach up to London. He had got leave to go down to Eagle House to visit his former master and old schoolfellows, and how grand he looked as he walked up and down the playground, handling his dirk. Even Pigeon felt a great respect for him, and looked on him with somewhat an eye of envy, and thought he should like to go into the navy. Had he gone, he would have had to learn many a lesson, or would very soon have been kicked out of it again. Jack dined at the master’s table at one end of the long dining-room, and good Mrs Jones looked at him very proudly, for she had always thought him one of her best boys; and many an eye gazed wistfully at his anchor buttons and dirk and smiling jovial countenance, as he laughed and chatted with wonderful ease with old Rowley, as if he was not a bit afraid of him; and some idle fellows envied him his emancipation from Virgil and Horace, and other classical authors, for whom they had so little affection themselves. Then he had to jump up and hurry off to catch the coach, in order to reach the mail, which was to carry him down that night to Northamptonshire. Jack could obtain no certain information about Murray and Adair, but old Rowley told him he understood they had already been sent to sea. Jack spent three very jolly days at home. He had a big trunk filled with all sorts of things which he was to stow away in his chest. Then the moment came for parting—the family were not much addicted to crying, not that they did not love each other very much. Jack’s little sister Lucy cried the most. He promised to write to her, and she promised to write to him and tell him about everybody and everything, and the horses and dogs, and something very like a tear came into his eyes, and a difficulty of speaking to which he was not accustomed, as he gave her his last kiss. Just then, Admiral Triton, Jack’s naval friend, drove up to the door, and by a mighty effort all traces of his feelings were banished—not that the Admiral would have thought the worse of him a bit on account of them. The Admiral was of the old school. He had one leg, the other being supplied by what looked remarkably like a mop-stick. His appearance was somewhat rough, especially when he went out in rainy weather, and his countenance was not a little battered, but his heart was as tender and almost as simple as Jack’s or even Lucy’s for that matter. He had insisted on taking Jack to Portsmouth and seeing him on board. “It will be an advantage to the youngster perhaps, and, besides, it will freshen me up a bit myself,” he observed to Jack’s father; “so say no more about it, neighbour Rogers.”

On their arrival at Portsmouth they went to the George, and the Admiral then took Jack to try on the rest of his kit.

“And I say, Mr Selby,” observed the Admiral, “just shake the reefs out of the youngster’s clothes at once, will you; why you would stop his growth if you were to swaddle him up in that way.”

“Certainly, Admiral; but young gentlemen nowadays fancy well-fitting trousers,” observed the tailor.

“And tight-pinching shoes, which will give them corns, and prevent them stepping out like men,” observed the Admiral; “but though they are silly, wiser people should not humour them.”

Leaving Jack with the tailor, who was really a very trustworthy man, Admiral Triton stumped down to the well-known Point, to have a look about him, as he said. While he was standing there, with his hands in his old pea-coat pocket, gazing out on the harbour, and thinking of bygone days and many an event of his youth connected with that place, a man-of-war’s boat ran in among the wherries, and a youngster sprang out of her, a small portmanteau being afterwards handed to him.