Chapter Twenty Six.
Peace—known as the Peace of Amiens—was concluded in 1801; and though England called in her cruisers, prohibiting them any longer to burn, sink, and destroy those of her enemies, she wisely declined drawing her own teeth or cutting her claws, by dismantling her ships and disbanding her crews, but, like a good-natured lion, crouched down, wagging her tail and sucking her paws, while, turning her eyes round and round, she carefully watched the turn affairs were likely to take.
Never had more ships been seen arriving day after day at Spithead, and never had Portsmouth Harbour been fuller of others fitting and refitting for sea, or its streets more crowded with seamen laughing, dancing, singing, and committing all sorts of extravagances, and flinging their well-earned money about with the most reckless prodigality.
About this time, while Portsmouth was in the heyday of its uproarious prosperity, and prize-money was as plentiful as blackberries in summer, a man-of-war’s eight-oared cutter was seen pulling in from Spithead, and then, entering the harbour, making for the Gosport shore. There was nothing unusual in this, or rather it was an event not only of daily but of hourly occurrence.
There were two officers in the sternsheets; but their simple uniform showed that they were not of any high rank, though the crew paid them the most profound respect. They were young men, though beards, pigtails, and lovelocks, with thoroughly weatherbeaten, sunburnt countenances, made them look somewhat older. One had a silver chain round his neck, with a call or whistle attached to it, which showed that he was a boatswain.
As they stepped on shore, the crew threw up their oars, and with one voice shouted, “We wish you every happiness—that we do, sir, from our hearts! Three cheer for the boatswain! Hip! hip! hip! hurrah!”
“Thank you, lads,” said the young boatswain, turning round with a pleasant smile on his countenance. “We have served long and happily together, and done some things to be proud of; and I tell you that I would rather be boatswain of such a crew as you are, than Captain of many I have fallen in with. Come up here and have a parting glass! I know that I can trust you to go back to the ship, as you promised; for it’s one of many things to be proud of, to be able to say that we never knew a man to run from our ship.”
The two warrant-officers were accompanied by an old black man with a wooden leg, who stumped along, aided by a stick, as fast as they could walk; while a couple of seamen followed with huge painted canvas bags on their shoulders, and various foreign-looking things hung about outside. They themselves carried a couple of birdcages and two parrots; and a mischievous-looking monkey sat on the black’s shoulder, another parrot being perched on the top of his hat, and a fiddle-case hung over his neck. They soon got out of Gosport into the country.