Off to Sea

The Adventures of Jovial Jack Junker on his Road to Fame

by W.H.G. Kingston

Contents

Chapter One.
My Birth and Education.

From my earliest days I have been known as Jovial Jack Junker. I got the name, I believe, from always being in good humour, and seeing the bright side of things. Whatever I ate did me good, and I never had had an hour’s sickness in my life; while if things happened to go wrong one day, I knew they would go right the next. People said I was of a happy disposition; I suppose I was. I always felt inclined to be singing or whistling, and when I did not, it was because I knew I ought to keep silence—in church, for instance, or in the presence of my elders, who happened to be engaged in conversation. Still, I was not born, as the saying is, with a silver spoon in my mouth, nor did I possess any great worldly advantages. I did not trouble myself much about the future, I must confess that. If I got what I wanted, I was contented; if not, I expected to get it the next day or the day after. I could wait; I always found something to amuse me in the meantime. My father was a marine—a man well known to fame, though not the celebrated “Cheeks.” He was known as Sergeant Junker. He had several small sons and daughters—young Junkers—and when I was about twelve years of age, he was left an inconsolable widower by the untimely death of our inestimable mother. She was an excellent woman, and had brought us up, to the best of her ability, in a way to make us good and useful members of society. She was indeed a greater loss to us than to our poor father; for, as my elder brother Simon observed, as he rubbed his eyes, moist with tears, with the back of his hand—

“You see, Jack, father can go and get another wife, as many do; but we can’t get another mother like her that is gone, that we can’t, nohow.”

No more thorough testimony could have been given to the virtues of our mother. She was a superior woman in many respects, and she was of a very respectable family, and had a nice little fortune of her own; but she had the common weakness of her sex, and fell in love with the handsome face of our honest, worthy father, Ben Junker the marine, at the time a private in that noble corps. She did not like his name, but she loved him, and overcame her prejudice. He could, at the period I speak of, scarcely read or write; but she set to work to educate him, and so far succeeded, that, being a very steady man, he rose in due course to be a sergeant. She had the ambition of hoping to see him obtain a commission; but he used to declare that, if he did, nothing would make him more unhappy, as he should feel exactly like a fish out of water. He was thus, at the time of which I am speaking, still a sergeant. Our mother, in consequence of the income she enjoyed, was able to give her children a much better education than we should otherwise probably have obtained. At the time of her death, it would have been difficult to find in our rank of life a more happy, contented, and better-conducted family. Our father, as I have said, was at first inconsolable; but he was of a happy, contented disposition, as it is very necessary that marines, as well as other people, should be—a disposition which I fortunately inherited from him. He took the rough with the smooth in life, as a matter of course. A favourite song of his, which he used to hum, was—

“What’s the use of sighing,
While time is on the wing?
Oh! what’s the use of crying?
Then merrily, merrily sing
Fa! la!”

Consequently, as Simon said he knew he would, he began in a short time to look out for another wife; and, unhappily for us, fixed on a widow with a family. She was, however, a very amiable woman; in fact, her great fault was, that she was too amiable, too soft and yielding. She could not manage to rule her own family, and a most uproarious, mutinous set they were. From the time they came to the house there was no peace or quiet for anyone else. They, indeed, soon took to try and rule over us with a high hand. Her girls used to come it over our girls, and her boys over our boys. Brother Simon, who was bigger and stronger than her eldest, more than once threatened that he would thrash them all round, if they had any more nonsense, and that invariably made our poor stepmother burst into tears, and plead so hard for her rebellious offspring, that the good, honest fellow had not the heart to put his threat into execution. At last some of us could stand it no longer. As Simon was old enough, he went one day, without saying anything to anybody, and enlisted in the marines. Bill, our second brother, got our father to apprentice him to a ship-carpenter; and, after no little trouble and coaxing, he promised to let me go on board a man-of-war. He did so, however, very unwillingly.

“You don’t know the sort of life that you will have to lead aboard ship, Jack,” he observed. “Boys afloat are not the happy-go-lucky sort of chaps they seem on shore, let me tell you; but, to be sure, they have got discipline there, which is more than I can say there is to be found in a certain place that you know of.” And my father uttered a deep sigh.

We were walking, one evening after tea, up and down our bit of a garden, while he smoked his pipe. He was allowed to live out of barracks, and we had a small cottage a little way off.

“I don’t know, Jack, but what I should not be sorry, if my company was ordered on service afloat,” he observed, confidentially, after a minute’s silence. “Your new mother is a good woman—a very good woman; about her I made no mistake, though she is not equal, by a long chalk, to her that’s gone; but oh! Jack,” and he sighed again, “I did not take into account those young cubs of hers. They will not rest till they have driven your sisters out of the house, as they have driven the boys; and then—and then—why, I suppose, they will drive me away too!”

My poor father! I sighed at the thoughts of his domestic happiness being so completely destroyed, in consequence of the advice of King Solomon not having been followed—the rod having been spared, and the children spoiled.

The following day, my father being sent on duty to Portsea, took me with him. Soon after we landed, I met, just on the inner end of the Common Hard, an old friend of mine, Dick Lee, a waterman.

“Father,” I said, “if Dick will let me, I’ll stop, and have a pull in his wherry. As I am going to sea, I should like to learn to row better than I now do.”

My father, glad to keep me out of harm’s way, told me that, if Dick wished it, I might remain with him. Well pleased, I ran down the Hard, and jumped into old Dick’s wherry. Dick intended that I should sit in his boat, and just practise with the oars, but I had no notion of that sort; so, casting off the painter, I shoved away from the shore. I kept pulling up and down for some time, and round and round, till my arms ached; when, determining to take a longer voyage, I turned the boat’s head out into the harbour. The tide was running out: I went on very swimmingly, I did not think of that. I had not, however, got very far, when I heard old Dick’s voice shouting to me—

“Come back, Jack, come back, you young jackanapes!”

Dick was in a rage, no doubt about that. I pulled round, and in spite of all my efforts could make no headway. Dick shouted, and swore, but to no purpose. I might have cracked my sinews with pulling, but still the boat would keep drifting down and down, running a great risk of getting athwart-hawse of some of the vessels moored a dozen yards below me. At last, Dick did what he might as well have done at first—stepped into another boat with his mate, and came after me. He soon brought me back as a prize. His temper was in no way soothed, though I cried out, again and again, I could not help it.

“Jump ashore now, lad,” he said, as we touched the Hard. “Next time you’ll do what I tell you you may do. I never said you might go and run the chance of getting the boat stove in, and yourself drownded. I keeps my family in order, whatever other people may do.”

Obeying old Dick, I stood disconsolately on the Hard, while he took his fare on board, and pulled away across to Gosport, without deigning to waste another word on me. However, I soon recovered my spirits, and amused myself making an excursion over the huge logs of timber that occupy a considerable space in that nook of the harbour.

I was running along on the more steady pieces of timber which formed the boundary of the pond, when I saw a boy in a boat, placed very much in the position from which I had just escaped. In vain he attempted to stem the tide. He was evidently not accustomed to a boat. He looked round, and saw that the boat was drifting towards the cable of a vessel moored off the Hard. I shouted out to him to pull hard with his starboard oar; but, instead of so doing, he jumped up, and caught hold of the cable, across which the boat had just then come, letting go at the same time one of his oars, which fell overboard. He now clung to the chain, and the current swept the boat away from under his feet.

“Hold on! hold on, for your life!” I shouted out; but, instead of so doing, he let go, expecting to regain his boat. He tried to swim, but he was evidently a bad swimmer. I looked round. No boat was near. I saw there was every chance of his being drowned. I was a capital swimmer; so, hoping to save the lad, I plunged in, and followed him. Just as I was taking the leap, I caught sight of old Dick, coming across the harbour. I shouted at the very top of my voice, pointing to the place where the boy was floating away. This gave me some hopes that we should be picked up. I soon saw that I had miscalculated the distance, for the boy seemed a very, very long way off. I had very little hopes of helping him, and thought it very likely I should get drowned myself, when I saw a hawser, somewhat slack, stretched across the course down which the boy was drifting. “If he has got any sense, he will catch hold of it,” I thought. How thankful I felt when I saw him grasp it! As I got near, he cried out—

“Help! help! I can hold on no longer!”

“Hold on, whatever you do?” I cried out. “Oh dear! oh dear!” he shouted again, “what will become of the boat? what will become of the boat?”

He was evidently getting somewhat stupid and confused. I redoubled my efforts, and grasping the hawser with one hand, caught hold of his jacket with the other, just as he was relaxing his grasp.

“Now, stupid!” I cried out, “just catch hold of this rope again, and hold on! You don’t want to get drowned, do you?”

“No, I don’t; but you had no business to call me stupid,” he exclaimed, in an indignant tone.

“If you go and get drowned when there’s no need of it, you are stupid,” I answered; “but if you will hold on tight, till Dick comes and takes us off, I will say something for you.”

My arguments had some effect, for hold on tight he did, I helping him by the collar of his jacket. I had enough to do, however, to keep him and myself afloat, as well as to hold on at the same time. It seemed to me that old Dick was a long time coming. At last I shouted out.

“Ay, ay!” answered his well-known voice, and at last I saw the bow of his boat coming round from under the stern of a vessel above us.

No one was on the decks of any of the vessels round us, which was the reason, I suppose, that we were allowed to hang on there so long by ourselves.

“Well, what mischief have you been after?” asked old Dick, as he hauled the other boy and me afterwards out of the water. “Well, you do look like two drownded rats?”

“He has been after no mischief at all!” exclaimed the other boy, who, in spite of his recent alarm, had not lost his spirits.

“He jumped into the water to save my life, and he has saved it; and I am sure my papa and mamma will not think it was any mischief, but will be ready to thank him very heartily, as I do.”

“And who are you, young gentleman?” asked old Dick. “What business had you to be tumbling into the water?”

He had begun to pull up the harbour, I should say, placing us in the stern sheets while he was asking these questions.

“Who am I? you want to know who I am?” said the young gentleman, who was employed in squeezing the wet out of his clothes; “I am Richard Alfred Chesterton Plumb,” answered the boy, standing up and assuming an air of dignity; “and I did not tumble into the water, but my boat got away from me, and I tried to get after it; and that reminds me that she is floating down the harbour; and so, old gentleman, I will just trouble you to go in chace of her and try to bring her back.”

“Ho! ho! ho!” exclaimed old Dick; “some young bantams do crow loud. Howsomdever, there is spirit in the lad, no doubt about that!”

“Well, old man,” again asked the young gentleman, “are you going after my boat?”

Old Dick did not deign an answer; but, looking away down the harbour, espied the boat, and, pulling round, made chase after her. We were soon up to her, and Master Richard, as he called himself, wanted to be put aboard again.

“I can row about till I am dry,” he observed. “What’s the odds?”

However, as there was only one oar remaining, this was an impossibility.

“You will only go and get yourself drownded again,” said the old man, “and catch your death of cold sitting in your wet things into the bargain. So you just come up to my missus, and she will give you a hot cup of tea and dry your duds, and then Jack here and I will see you safe home to your friends.”

I have a notion that old Dick was afraid the young master might forget all about the service which had been rendered him, and having an eye to the main chance, he was resolved that I should receive a reward—he himself hoping probably to obtain some remuneration also for his trouble. On our way back young Master Richard, who was in no way disconcerted, espied the missing oar, which had been caught in an eddy, and drifted in towards the shore. We got hold of it, and he now seemed perfectly happy. We both looked very foolish, I thought, as dripping wet we followed old Dick up to his house. The old woman had our clothes very soon off us, and tumbled us both into their bed. The young gentleman whispered to me that it was not very nice, but I was in no way particular.

“It will not do to be ungrateful. I would bear anything, rather than show I did not like it,” he added, still whispering.

He at last got rather impatient, and singing out, asked Dick if he would go and buy him a new suit at Selby’s, the tailor’s in High Street.

The old man laughed.

“I’ve got no credit there, young gentleman,” he answered. “Maybe, too, your friends would not be quite pleased. Your clothes will be dry enough in time; and, there now, the water’s boiling, and you shall have a bowl of tea hot enough to take the skin off your mouths.”

The steaming liquid was soon brought to us, and after drinking it, Master Richard said he felt as warm and comfortable as he had ever done in his life. He was only anxious to be off. At length, however, the warmth and closeness of the room sent us both off into a sound sleep. We were awoke by old Dick’s voice.

“Well, lads,” he said, “are you ready to put on your clothes, and come along to young master’s friends? I have seen your father, Jack. He knows all about them, and says it is all right. He tells me, Jack,” he whispered, “they’re no end of grand people, so I hope you have stepped into the right boat this time.”

I could not exactly understand the meaning of my old friend’s remarks, but I saw that he was well pleased. Old Mrs Lee pressed some more tea and bread and butter on us, and had a sausage frying in the pan. I was not sorry to get it; but, after taking a few mouthfuls, the young gentleman said he was very grateful, but that he had had enough, and that he expected to find dinner when he got home.

“I could not have eaten another mouthful, even if the old woman had threatened to throw me into the frying-pan,” he observed, as we left the house, “but I did not like to hurt her feelings.”

I had eaten up the remainder of the sausage, so I benefited by Master Richard’s delicacy of stomach.

Chapter Two.
My First Start.

We crossed the water to Gosport, and took our way along the road which led past the small row in which we lived. I inquired on my way of old Dick, if he knew who the young gentleman’s father was.

“They say he’s a nabob,” answered old Dick, “but what a nabob is, I’m sure I don’t know, except that he’s a yellow-faced gentleman, with lots of money, and always complaining of his liver.”

Having received this lucid explanation to my question, I rejoined my young companion. I thought I might learn more about the matter from him.

“They say your father is a nabob; is he?” I asked.

“A nabob? No,” he answered. “He is a great deal more important person—he is a brigadier; at least he was in India, and mamma always speaks of him as the Brigadier, and people always talk of her as Mrs Brigadier.”

“Then I suppose you are the young Brigadier?” I said, very naturally.

“No, indeed, I am not,” he answered. “But there is the house. And, I say, I am very much obliged to you, remember, for what you have done for me. I see you are up to joking; but let me advise you not to come any of your jokes over my father, or mamma either. Indeed, you had better rather try it with him than with her. You would think twice before you ever made the attempt again.”

Passing through an iron gateway, we proceeded up to the house, which was some little way from the road. It was low, with a broad verandah round it, and I found was known as Chuttawunga Bungalow. I saw the name on the side-post of the gateway. A tall, dark-skinned man, dressed in white, a broad-rimmed cap on his head, came to the door. He seemed rather doubtful as to admitting old Dick and me.

“Here, Chetta, let us in at once!” exclaimed the young gentleman in an authoritative tone. “These are my friends. They have rendered me an essential service. The boy saved my life when I was drowning, and the old man pulled us both out of the water, when we could not hold on much longer. Where is my papa? And, I say, Chetta, do not go and tell Mrs Brigadier just yet. I would rather have the matter over with one of them first.”

I felt rather awe-struck at having to go into the presence of so great a man, for I had pictured him as a tall, ferocious-looking personage, with a huge moustache and a military air and manner. Great was my astonishment when I saw, seated in an arm-chair, cross-legged, with one foot resting on a foot-stool, a small man with yellow hair, thin cheeks, and habited in a silk dressing-gown and nankeen trousers.

“Why, Richard Alfred Chesterton!” he exclaimed in a sharp, querulous tone, “where have you been all this time? It is as well your mother had to go out, or she would have been thrown into a state of great alarm; and something else, I suspect, too,” he said, in a lower tone.

“Well, papa,” answered Richard, when the brigadier had ceased speaking, “you would not address me harshly, if you knew how very nearly you were having the misery of losing me altogether. It is a long story, so I will not now enter into details. It will be sufficient for you to know that I was in a boat, and that out of that boat I fell into the dangerous current of the harbour; and had it not been for the bravery and gallantry of this young lad whom I have brought with me, I should have been at this moment food for the fish in the Solent sea, or a fit subject for a coroner’s inquest, had my body been discovered.”

The brigadier opened his grey eyes wider and wider, as the boy continued speaking.

“And, papa, we must not forget this old boatman, too, who pulled the boy and me—what’s your name? Ay; Jack Junker—out of the water.” Thus Master Dicky ran on.

“Well, my boy, I am thankful to see you safe, and I wish to express my gratitude to the brave lad, Jack Junker, who saved your life, and to the old man who pulled you out of the water. My friends, I must consult Mrs Brigadier Plumb, how I can best show you my gratitude. I always do consult her on all important matters. Till then I hope you will remain in this house. I am too great an invalid to talk much to you, but my son will do his best to make amends for my deficiencies.”

On this Master Richard went up and whispered something in his father’s ear.

“Will one or two do?” I heard the brigadier ask.

“No, no, father, do it handsomely. To be sure, he ran no risk, but it was the way he did it; and I rather think he looks for some remuneration.”

On this the brigadier shuffled off his chair, and opening his writing-desk, took out a bank note.

“Here, my friend,” he said to old Dick, “I should like to pay you for the loss of time, and the expense you have been put to, for this youngster, so accept these few pounds. I hope to show my sense of what you have done, more heartily by-and-by.”

I saw old Dick’s eyes sparkle. He had probably expected a sovereign at the outside.

“Jack,” he whispered to me, as we left the room, “you are in luck; for, if he pays me five pounds for just picking that young shrimp out of the water, he will certainly do a good deal more for you who saved his life.”

Master Richard soon overtook us, and then insisted on showing us over the house—into the drawing-room, and dining-room, and breakfast-parlour, and into several of the bedrooms, then down into the servants’ hall. I had never been in such a fine house in my life before. And then he took us out into the garden, and walked us all round, showing us the fruit-trees in blossom, and the beautiful flowers.

“My mamma will be home soon,” he observed, “and my two sisters. I want her to see the brigadier first, because, you see, although it was a very fine thing in you to pick me out of the water, I had no business to tumble into it, or, indeed, to be in a boat at all. The brigadier did not see that, but she will. She keeps us all precious strict, I can tell you. I have several brothers—the eldest is in the army, and two are away at school. I have not quite settled what I am going to be. I should not object to go into the navy, but then I should like to be made an admiral or a post-captain at once. I have no particular taste for the army, and as for the law, or several other things, I would as soon dig potatoes, or go shrimping; and thus, you see, the navy is the only profession likely to suit me, or I am likely to suit.”

Old Dick cocked his eye, as he heard young master’s remarks.

“I rather think he must be changed a bit before he is suited to the navy, however much he may think the navy will suit him; and there I have an idea he will be pretty considerably mistaken,” he whispered to me.

The young gentleman had evidently caught the habit of a pompous style of speaking from Mrs Brigadier, as I afterwards discovered. It sounded somewhat ridiculous, especially from the mouth of so small a chap. I had reason to suspect that he now and then, too, made curious mistakes; though of course, not very well able to detect them myself.

At last an open carriage drove up to the door, with a curly-wigged coachman on the box, and two dark-skinned servants standing behind, dressed like the one who had opened the door. Inside was a very tall lady, sitting bolt upright, with two considerably smaller young ladies opposite to her. Young master told old Dick and me not to make any noise, lest she should see us, as we were watching their arrival through the shrubbery. She got out with a dignified air, resting on one of the black servants, and strode into the house. The two young ladies followed demurely in her wake. She was exactly what I should have expected the brigadier to be, only she wore petticoats, and a bonnet instead of a cocked hat. In a short time the servant appeared, and summoned young master into the house. He quickly appeared, and beckoned us from a window to come in. I did not see the meeting of the mother and son, but I know when I entered she stretched out her arms, and gave me a kiss on the brow.

“You have rendered me an essential service, young lad,” she exclaimed, in a voice well calculated to hail the maintop in a gale at sea, or to shout “Advance!” at the head of a regiment in action. “I wish to show my gratitude, but how can I do so?”

“And you—” and she looked towards old Dick, who drew back; and I really heard him say—

“Oh, don’t!”

He thought she was going to salute him as she had me.

“You took them into your boat; you preserved them from catching cold: I am grateful—very grateful!” and I saw her fumble in the deep recesses of a side-pocket.

“My dear,” whispered the brigadier, “I have already bestowed a pecuniary recompense.”

“You have!” she said turning round sharply, “without consulting me?”

This was said in an intended low voice, but I heard it.

“Well,” she said, “money cannot repay you for the service you have performed. But you have found your way to this house. Come again to-morrow, and by that time I will have considered how I can best show my gratitude.”

“Thank you, marm!” answered old Dick, evidently very glad to get away. “Shall I take Jack with me? he lives over on this side, and I can drop him at his home as I go back to Gosport.”

“If you so think fit, my friend,” answered Mrs Brigadier; “and if the boy—by-the-by, what is your name?” she asked.

“Jack Junker,” I replied; and I told her that my father was a sergeant.

“Jack Junker? Yes, if you wish to go, Jack,” she answered. “I also then shall have time to consider how I can best express my gratitude. Farewell?”

She put out her hand, and shook old Dick’s; but I thought, as she spoke to me, her manner was considerably colder than it had been at first. Old Dick and I left the room, and the door was closed behind us.

“I doubt her,” whispered old Dick to me. “I am glad the old gentleman, however, gave me the five pounds. It was handsome in him. But Jack, my boy, I suspect you will have to rest satisfied with having saved the life of a fellow-creature; though, as you were the means of my gaining this, I think I must hand over half to you, as your share.”

To this, of course, I would not consent; and somewhat disappointed, perhaps, I accompanied my old friend through the hall, having the honour of being salaamed to most profoundly by the dark-skinned domestics. We walked slowly, and had not got very far, when I heard footsteps coming behind us. Turning round, I saw Master Richard running with all his might.

“Here, Jack?” he said, “the Brigadier gave me this, and told me to hand it over to you. My mother was out of the room at the time, so do not say anything about it to her. She will show you her gratitude in some other way. I do not mean to say it is as much as I should like to have offered you; but here, be quick I put it into your pocket, or we may be seen from the house.”

“Don’t be a fool, Jack!” said old Dick, seeing I hesitated. “It’s justly yours, boy, and let them settle the matter as they think best.”

“Good-bye, Jack!” said young master, shaking me by the hand. “Good-bye!” he added, taking old Dick’s rough paw. “We are a curious set; but I say, do not refuse anything you can get. If you want any interest exerted, then boldly ask my mother. She will do that in a way which overcomes all difficulties. If she wanted to make me Archbishop of Canterbury, she would work away till she had done it, if she happened to live long enough.”

Old Dick dropped me at my home. There was a tremendous noise going on, created by my stepmother’s children. She was crying out and imploring them to be quiet, and they were squabbling and crying and abusing each other. The big ones had appropriated the little ones’ toys, or other property, and all the poor woman could do they would not restore the articles, while the young ones were crying to get them back, every now and then making a rush at their bigger brothers and sisters, and getting a box on the ear in return. My appearance rather increased than quelled the commotion. Tommy, the biggest, asked me in a threatening way where I had been, and of course I was not going to answer him; so he doubled his fist, and, had I not stood on my guard, he would certainly have hit me, but he thought better of it. Just at that moment my father returned off duty, full of my performances, of which old Dick had told him all particulars. He was very indignant with Tom.

“Is this the way, you young ruffian, you treat a brave lad who has been saving the life of a fellow-creature, and that fellow-creature the son of a brigadier? Do you know what a brigadier is, you young jackanapes, eh?” he exclaimed, giving way for once to anger, of which he was very seldom guilty. His remarks silenced all the party, who, of course, were then eager enough to learn what I had done and what had happened. My poor stepmother embraced me warmly, and tears fell from her eyes as she glanced round on her own disorderly offspring. For the rest of the evening they behaved better.

My father was well pleased on hearing of the brigadier’s gift, for the purse contained ten sovereigns.

“It’s very liberal,” he said; “for though I suppose he thinks his son’s life worth more than that, yet, from what you tell me, no doubt it is as much as he dared to give; yet I can tell you, from what I have heard, that that shrivelled-up yellow-faced old fellow was as plucky an officer as ever saw service.”

My father would not let me go back to the Bungalow.

“You have done your duty, Jack, and you have received a present, which you must lay by for a rainy day; and if the brigadier’s lady wants to show her maternal gratitude, it’s her business to find you out.”

I thought probably that young master would take care to see something more of me. I liked his manner; for although there was a good deal of seeming bombast and pretension about him, I had an idea he was sterling at bottom—a plucky little chap, just as his father had been. This circumstance had in no way put aside my wish to go to sea. I kept talking about it whenever I had an opportunity.

“I see how it is,” sighed my father; “you are right, Jack. The way Tom stood up to you just now showed me that your old home is not as pleasant as it should be.”

“Then you will let me go, will you not, father?” I said.

The fact was, it was a very different thing for him to talk about letting me go, and to ship me off. He hummed and hesitated, and said he thought I had better wait till I was a year older, or till he himself was sent to sea.

“Oh, but that may not be for a long time, father; and what should I do with myself till then?” I exclaimed.

“I am not quite so sure that it will be a long time, Jack,” he answered, with a sigh.

“Once upon a time my only wish was to remain on shore, but times are changed. I don’t want to say a word against my present wife. She is a good woman; an excellent woman; but somehow or other she does not manage to keep the house as quiet as it might be; and those children of hers are terribly unlicked cubs.”

I agreed with him there. “They want to be under the management of Mrs Brigadier for a few months,” I observed; “I rather think that she would not be long in bringing them into order.”

“You are right, Jack. But I have seen her, and with all her perfections, I would not swop my present wife with her on any account.” My father gave a shudder. “Well, Jack,” he said, “there’s an old friend of mine—Sergeant Turbot—whose company has been appointed to the Roarer, fitting out for the East India Station, alongside the Topaze sheer hulk.”

“Well, father,” I said, “though I should like to go with you, yet I fancy that ‘a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush;’ and, if you will let me, I’ll go with Sergeant Turbot. He will look after me and keep me out of mischief, and stand my friend, if I want one. I should not like to lose the opportunity.”

“Well, well, I see how it is, home is too hot for you,” sighed my poor father. “To-morrow morning, please Heaven! I will take you on board, and see what Turbot has to say to the matter. If he’s agreeable, why there won’t be much difficulty in getting you rated as one of the boys aboard.”

My father was as good as his word, and at an early hour the next morning we embarked in a wherry, and pulled alongside the Roarer. When I got on board, and while standing with my father waiting for Sergeant Turbot, who was on duty, it seemed to me as if every man and boy in the ship had gone stark staring mad, rushing and rolling about, tumbling over each other, shouting and bawling at the top of their voices. Presently I heard a ferocious-looking hairy monster of a man growl out, in a voice loud enough to wake a dozen midshipmen, however fast asleep they might have been, “Up all steerage hammocks?” the shrill sound of his whistle piercing through my head. I had been on board men-of-war before when there was no duty going on, and all was quiet and in order. If I had not had hold of my father’s hand, I think I should have gone down the side again into the wherry. In reality, however, it was only Ned Rawlings performing an ordinary piece of morning duty—as gentle and tender-hearted a fellow as ever stepped, in spite of his gruff voice and hairy face, and the “cat” he had sometimes to wield. I have a notion, that every time he laid on that cat, he felt it as acutely as the culprit on whom it was deservedly inflicted. I still felt something like a fish in a tub, trying to escape the dangers I supposed surrounded me, when Sergeant Turbot came along the main deck. He laughed heartily, till his fat sides shook again, when he saw my affrighted countenance, and my father told him I could not make out the cause of all the uproar.

“Why, the men are pretty quiet,” he observed; “they’re pretty much like this at all times, except when they’re sleeping, or at mess, or at quarters.”

My father told him our object.

“That I will, Junker,” he observed at once. “I am sure you would look after a boy of mine if I had one, and I will look after yours. I cannot teach him much seamanship, but I’ll give a hint to those who can, and I’ll look after him, and see that he gets into no mischief, as long as I am in the ship. We are going out to a somewhat trying climate though, and men of my figure are apt to suffer, I am told.”

He cast a momentary glance over himself. It was fortunate for Sergeant Turbot that he was a marine, and still more that he had not to go aloft. On board ship he could do his duty admirably, but on shore his figure was decidedly against him. He was very stout. It was lucky for me that he was so, for I could always find him when I wanted him. At first, I thought that I could run away from him, if desirable; but in that respect I was mistaken, for he could send after me, and have me back pretty quickly. All being arranged, the sergeant undertook to speak to the first-lieutenant; and he had me and my father up, and asking him a few questions, told him to fill up different papers, which he did forthwith, and I was regularly entered as a boy on board the Roarer.

Chapter Three.
Life on the Roarer.

I went back with my father, and the remainder of the day was spent by my stepmother in getting my outfit ready. It was an unusually good one, in consequence of the brigadier’s gift.

“I don’t expect to hear much more about that,” observed my father. “There is a good deal of talk about those sort of people; though, to be sure, the old man and the young one have some feeling; still I don’t see what good they could do you, Jack, even if they wished it. I should not wish you put above your station; though, to be sure, your poor dear mother was a lady herself, that she was, every inch of her, and too good for me. However, Jack, there’s one thing I have got to counsel you: do your duty, tell the truth, and never mind the sneers or laughter of those who try to lead you astray. There is One in heaven who will hear your prayers, and don’t you go and forget to tell Him your wants, and ask Him to do what is best for you. And now, my boy, you have my blessing; and I am sure, that good mother of yours—she who’s gone I mean—will be looking down from wherever she is, and watching over you, and praying for you, if so be she has the power; but of that matter, I must own, I have no certain knowledge, only I do think it’s the work she would like to be employed in, anyhow.”

The next morning I took an affectionate farewell of my brothers and sisters, and very far from an affectionate one of the children of my poor stepmother. She herself, however, wept bitterly, as I went out of the house; my father, and a marine he had got from the barracks, carrying my chest. It was not a very big one, as may be supposed. We had got some distance from the house, when who should I see, scampering after us, and well out of breath, than the young Master Richard.

“Oh, Jack!” he exclaimed, “where are you going? I wanted to come yesterday, but could not, because my mother took me to see the Port-Admiral, and all sorts of other naval authorities. I wanted, as I told you, to go to sea, and she seems to think it’s a very good place for me to go to. She says that as I have been so nearly drowned once, I am not likely to be drowned again; that it’s much less expensive than being in the dragoons, and, in fact, she made up her mind that to sea I was to go. Somehow or other she and the naval big-wigs have settled it, and I am to go on board the old Roarer, which is to sail, in a short time, for the East Indies.”

“That’s the very ship I have joined,” I answered.

“Is it? How jolly! but are you to be a midshipman?”

“No,” I answered, “I am only rated as a boy on board.”

“Oh! I suppose there is no great difference. I do not know much about a ship, or the ways of a ship. I am to have a fine new uniform, and a dirk, and a chest full of no end of things. Well, we shall know more about it by-and-by; but I was forgetting what I came for. I wanted you to come up to the house. My father wants to talk to you, and my sisters want to see you; to make much of you, I fancy, but that might be a bore. But, I say, let those two soldiers take your chest aboard, and present your compliments to the captain, and say you will come by-and-by.”

My father and his companion, on hearing this, burst out laughing.

“I have a notion, young master,” said my father, “that that would not do for Jack. Much obliged to you all the same; but you are likely to be in one station, and he in another, so I am afraid the kindness you intend him will not do him any good. I promised to take him on board the Roarer this morning, and I shall have to go on duty again very soon; so once more I have to thank you, and wish you good morning!”

Master Plumb seemed rather astonished at this answer.

“Rather a proud chap that soldier,” he said to me. “I should have taken him for an officer, if he had not been carrying the box. Who is it?”

“My father,” I answered.

“Oh, that’s it,” he observed. “Well, Jack, I wish you could come, but if you cannot, I must take your excuses; though I am sure the captain would not be angry, if you sent him a polite message.”

“My father knows better than I do,” I answered; “and I have not seen the captain, so I must go. I am very sorry, for I should like to have come with you.”

Master Richard wrung my hand very warmly, and most unwillingly went back towards his home. How Sergeant Turbot did laugh when we got on board, and my father told him what had happened. He advised me not to give Master Richard’s message. My father, having left me under charge of the sergeant, took his departure. He came on board, however, several times in old Dick’s wherry.

“I don’t ask you to come home, my boy,” he said, “for I have not got the heart to go through that parting business again. Besides, Jack, the home is not as comfortable as it should be. Perhaps, however, when you come back, four or five years hence, things will have mended. And you will not forget your father, Jack, and I’m sure you won’t her that’s gone.”

These remarks were made the last time I saw my worthy father before the ship went out of harbour. I, in time, got accustomed to the ways of a ship, or, rather, to the ways of the men. It was rather curious, at first, to see a number of big fellows standing round a tub or basin, all washing themselves in the same water; one toothbrush, if they were particular enough to have such a thing, and one comb, serving for the whole party. Only a few, however, of the cleanest men used the former article. Still, things were somewhat trying to a young chap. When the ship appeared to have got a little quiet, suddenly, as I was seated near Sergeant Turbot, I heard a sharp whistle and a ferocious growl, which made me jump off the bench. “All hands on deck?” or some such cry, were the words which followed the whistle.

“Who is that growling out?” I asked of the sergeant.

“That is one of our licensed growlers,” was the answer. “It’s his business to growl; he is paid for it. Seamen are fond enough of growling generally, but they get nothing when they do, though they growl till they are hoarse.”

Now, as I said, I had been aboard all sorts of ships in ordinary, or in the dockyard, but never before on board one fitting-out. When, therefore, I stepped on deck after the men, I was perfectly confounded; and the scene of confusion around me—such piping, and swearing, and bawling, and shouting, swaying up yards, getting in guns and stores, and pulling and hauling in all directions. Still, I made the best of it; and, having my eyes about me, kept out of harm’s way, and stood ready to try and do anything I was told to do. This went on till the men knocked off work again, and the hubbub was concentrated on the main and lower decks, especially round the galley-fire, where the cooks were busy serving out dinners to the different messes. “It smells fine, at all events,” I thought to myself, and would have made me hungry, if I had not been so already. Then a marine struck a bell four times double, which made eight bells, and the officer of the watch roared out, “Pipe to dinner!” Didn’t the whistle of the boatswain and his men sound shrilly then! The dishes being arranged on the mess-tables, which were placed in rows along the decks, all hands fell to with a will; and I, among the number, ate my first dinner aboard ship. In about an hour there was another pipe, and the word “Grog!” was bawled out. Each man went to receive his quantum of rum and water. The sergeant said that rum was a bad thing for little boys, and drank mine for me. I now think that he was right. I had as yet seen nothing of Master Plumb, and I began to think that he was not coming after all. This did not concern me, I own, very much; for, as he would be at one end of the ship and I at the other, we should not exchange words very often, and I knew pretty well, from what I had already seen, that he would soon get into the ways of his messmates, and look down upon me, and swear and abuse me, as some of the other young gentlemen were apt to do.

At last all stores were on board, the sails were bent, and, casting off from the old hulk, we hauled out into the stream. The Roarer certainly looked to greater advantage than she had hitherto done. The next day decks were cleared, the men put on clean shirts and trousers, the officers appeared in full fig, and the long-expected captain came up the side.

“Butter won’t melt in his mouth,” I heard one of the seamen near me observe.

“You think so?” remarked Ned Rawlings. “Now do you just get near, and have a look at his eye, and you will sing a different song. It’s not always the rough-and-ready looking chaps, like you and I, Tom, as are the best men for work!”

Our captain certainly did look more fit for a ball-room, or a naval officer in love on the stage, than for the deck of a man-of-war. He was the most polished article about his whole ship. His whiskers were curled; his cheeks were pink; the gold lace on his coat shone with undimmed lustre, not a particle of dust rested on the fine cloth of which it was made, while it fitted with perfection to his well-formed figure. Kid gloves covered his hands, and a fine cambric handkerchief appeared from his breast-pocket. He bowed to the flag, and he bowed to the officers, as he cast a scrutinising glance round the deck. Some of the older officers pulled rather long faces when they saw him. In a short time, he ordered all hands to come aft, and then, in a clear, somewhat soft voice, made a long speech. The sum total of it was, that he was determined to have a crack ship, and a crack crew, and that he did not like to use the lash, but that he did not always do what he liked; still, that he always would have done what he wanted done. The men could not quite make him out, nor could I; but I came to the conclusion, that he was not just the sort of man to whom I should like to carry such a message as Master Plumb had requested me to give.

Next day we went out to Spithead. No signs of my friend. I told Sergeant Turbot that I thought Master Richard Plumb would not come after all.

“Perhaps not,” he answered; “Mrs Brigadier does not like to part from him, or maybe they are washing and combing him, and making him fit to come aboard, which I suppose occupied the time of a certain person who should be nameless, and prevented him joining us till yesterday. Maybe, young master has thought better of the matter, and would rather go for a parson, or one of those chaps as goes to foreign courts to bamboozle the people.”

I, at all events, made up my mind that I should see no more of Master Richard. However, scarcely had I come to this conclusion, than a large wherry came alongside, and a card was sent up for the captain.

“Certainly,” he answered.

The boatswain’s mate whistled; the side boys were called away, I being one of them, and we hastened to our posts on the accommodation-ladder. There, in a boat, sat Mrs Brigadier, with the Brigadier on one side and Master Richard on the other, and the two young ladies I had before seen. Mrs Brigadier, putting her hand on the shoulder of one of the men who was holding on the bow stepped up the accommodation-ladder with a dignified air, followed humbly by the Brigadier. Then came the young ladies. Young master followed his sisters in a spick-and-span new uniform, looking especially well pleased at himself. As he came up he espied me. That there was no pride in him, he showed by an inclination to shake hands with me. But against this there were two reasons: first, I should have fallen from my perch, and then it would have been decidedly against nautical etiquette.

“Why, Jack, shall I have to do this sort of work?” he asked, as he passed me.

“I think not, sir,” I answered, for I had learned to say “sir” to a uniform. “I am a side boy, you are a midshipman.”

“Oh, ay, that makes a difference,” he observed, following up his sisters; and I do believe he gave the last a pinch in the ankles, as he pretended to keep down her petticoats, for she kicked out behind, missing his nose, though, narrowly. The whole party were soon on deck, where the captain stood to receive them, bowing with formal politeness to Mrs Brigadier and to the Brigadier, as well as to the young ladies. He cast a very different sort of glance at young master, who came up, no way disconcerted, by the side of his father.

“We were anxious to see the last of our boy,” said Mrs Brigadier, for the Brigadier seldom spoke much in her presence. “We wished also properly to introduce him to you and to his brother officers. He is not our only son, but he is our youngest son, and as such we naturally prize him greatly. These are our two girls—Leonora and Euphemia. They are not likely to leave us, unless at any time they should be destined to make the home of some worthy man happy; but boys, Captain Sharpe, must go out into the world, and Richard Alfred Chesterton does not find himself an exception to the general rule. He desired to enter your noble profession, and I am sure, Captain Sharpe, that you will watch over him with paternal care; I trust by-and-by because you appreciate his merits, but at present, as he is unknown to you, for my sake—for the sake of a fond, doting mother.”

“I always do look after my midshipmen, madam,” answered the captain; “I wish them to learn their duty, and I make them do it. If your son behaves himself, he will get on as well as the rest; but if not, he will probably find himself spending a considerable portion of his time up aloft there,” and the captain glanced at the mast-head.

I saw young master screw up his mouth at this. However, Mrs Brigadier said nothing. She had unburdened her maternal bosom, and done her duty, as she considered it.

The captain now invited the Brigadier and his family down to luncheon, and Master Richard followed, his air of confidence somewhat abated. He had taken the captain’s measure, and the captain had taken his, but they were not likely to get on the worse for that. I saw many glances of admiration cast at the young ladies by the lieutenants and midshipmen, for really they were very pretty, nice girls, according to my notion—not a bit like their mamma.

At last the party came out of the cabin again, and the side boys were once more called away. The old Brigadier took a hearty affectionate farewell of his boy, and his sisters kissed him—all very right and proper—and then came Mrs Brigadier. I saw that poor Master Richard was rather uncomfortable, when, quite regardless of where they were, she took him up in her long arms, and kissed his cheeks, and his forehead, and his lips, just as if he had been a baby, and a big tear did start into her eye. “Well, she is human, at all events,” I thought, “in spite of her appearance.”

Though some of the midshipmen might have laughed, the captain looked as grave as a judge, and so did the other officers. Master Richard went down the ladder, and saw his party off: then he again came up the side, and walked about the deck by himself, evidently not knowing exactly what to do. At last, the first-lieutenant, Mr Blunt, went up to him.

“Have you ever been to sea before, Mr Plumb?” he asked.

“No, indeed, I have not,” was the answer, “and I am rather doubtful—”

“Well, well,” broke in Mr Blunt, “remember, I speak to you as a friend. You should say, ‘Sir!’ when you address a superior officer.”

“Certainly,” answered Master Dicky, “but I did not know you were my superior officer.”

The lieutenant laughed.

“You will have a good deal to learn, I suspect, Mr Plumb. Remember, I am the first-lieutenant of the ship, and you must obey with promptitude any orders which I, or any of the other lieutenants give, or the master, or the warrant-officers, or, indeed, any officers on duty, may issue. You have a great many people above you on board this ship, Mr Plumb.”

“So it seems, sir,” said Richard, “but if they all try to teach me my duty, so much the better; I shall learn the faster.”

“You will,” said Mr Blunt, “only there is one thing you must never pretend to be, and that is—stupid. The captain believes you to be one of the sharpest lads who ever came to sea; and, let me tell you, he is not the man to allow anybody to gainsay his opinion.”

Chapter Four.
First Experiences of Sailing.

We ran down Channel at a rattling rate, the wind off shore, the sea smooth, the sun shining brightly. Young Master Richard soon got the name from his messmates of Dicky Plumb—a name which, of course, stuck to him. In spite of his airs of dignity, he soon showed that he was a plucky little fellow; and he was at once for going aloft with the other midshipmen and boys. The first time, he ran up the main rigging pretty smartly, till he got to the futtock-shrouds; go higher he could not, and go through the lubber’s hole he would not. He kept looking up, till at length he determined to go round by the futtock-shrouds into the top. He clambered along; I was aft, cleaning some brass-work, and could not help looking up, and watching him. Round into the top he could not get. More than once I thought he would lose his hold. The captain, who came on deck, thought so too. He made as if he would go aloft himself, when Ned Rawlings caught his eye.

“Go and look after the boy,” he said.

Ned sprang aloft, and in a twinkling had his arms round Dicky’s waist.

“Don’t struggle,” he said, “and I’ll have you down safe.”

In a few seconds, Dicky was all right on the deck. He was not contented, however; aloft he would go again, immediately.

“I will try once more, sir,” he said, turning to the captain—for he had learned to say “sir,” by this time, to everybody—and after three or four attempts—Ned Rawlings taking care to be in the top beforehand—round the shrouds he got, and safe into the top. He was not going to stop there, though; and up the top-mast rigging he went, and down again on the other side.

“If that boy does not break his neck, he will do well in the service,” I heard the captain observe. “The little fellow has got pluck and coolness.”

“They say in the berth, sir, that he is a most impudent little chap,” observed Mr Blunt.

“Very likely,” remarked the captain; “it takes some time to rub that sort of material out of a boy.”

Dicky often came forward to have a talk with me, and though he could be uppish enough with his equals and superiors, he was as kind and gentle to me as any one could be.

“I am very glad I came to sea, Jack,” he observed. “I am learning more about my work every day; and then the weather is so different to what I thought it was at sea. I always fancied we were tumbling and tossing about, except when the ship was in harbour; but here we have been gliding on for the last fortnight with the water as smooth as a mill-pond.”

I, in reply, said I was glad I came; but from what I heard, we must expect ups and downs at sea—sometimes smooth, and sometimes blowing hard.

“It is all the same to me,” I observed. “When I came to sea, I made up my mind to take the rough and the smooth together.”

“Jack, were you ever sea-sick?” asked Dicky.

“Not that I remember. Were you?”

“No; and I don’t intend to be,” he answered, drawing himself up somewhat proudly. “I am not going to be made the sport of my inside.”

“More likely of your messmates,” I answered.

We soon found, however, that this easy sort of life was not going to last for ever. One night we had to tumble out of our hammocks, in the middle watch, pretty fast, at the cry of—“All hands shorten sail!” The men were out of bed in a twinkling. It was wonderful how soon they slipped into their clothes. The sea was roaring, the wind howling and whistling, and the officers shouting—“Clew up! Haul down! Close reef topsails!” and similar cries. I was very glad not to have to go aloft just then, right up into the darkness, amid the slashing of ropes, and the flapping of sails, and the fierce whistling of the blast as it rushed through the rigging. So, I have an idea, was Dicky Plumb, though he had been boasting so boldly the previous afternoon. I remember being ordered aft with other boys, to man the mizen-topsail clew-line, which we did, and pulled, and hauled away, till we were ordered to belay. This is the only piece of service I recollect rendering to my country that night. When the ship was got under snug sail, the crew were piped down; and I, with the watch below, turned in. I was, however, by this time, feeling rather curious. I had hitherto been very well, and remarkably jolly; and was sure I was going to make a first-rate sailor. The ship, however, began to roll, and went on rolling more and more. Not only I, but most of the other boys, and many of the men, too, were looking very queer. I had a friend I have not mentioned before—Tommy Punchon by name—a fine little chap. He had never seen a ship before he came on board the Roarer; but he had read of ships, and foreign lands, and that made him come to sea, he told me. Now he had heard there was such a thing as sea-sickness, but he was not going to knock under to it—not he. I met Tommy coming along the lower deck (I am speaking now of the next morning), looking very green and yellow; indeed, all sorts of colours; perhaps I looked the same, I rather think I did. I asked him how he felt. “Very jolly, eh?”

“Oh, don’t! don’t!” he answered, with the corners of his mouth curling down. “It’s an awful reality; I must confess it.” Just then, I caught sight of Dicky Plumb, who had been sent along the deck on some duty, which he had evidently a difficulty in performing. I doubt if his mother would have owned him, so crest-fallen he looked. I dared not speak to him. He, indeed, cast an imploring look at me, as much as to say, “Don’t!” On he went, trying to reach the midshipmen’s berth, but overcome by his feelings—miserable I know they were, from experience—he stopped, and if Sergeant Turbot had not caught him in his arms, he would have sunk down on the deck. The sergeant, however, helped him along, till he got him stowed safely away in the berth, where there were probably several other young gentlemen in a like prostrate condition. Meantime, I grew worse and worse. Tommy and I were soon joined by other boys—a most miserable crew—and we all together went and stowed ourselves away in the fore part of the ship, thinking that no one would be troubled about such wretched creatures as we were. My grand idea was a hope that some one would come and throw me overboard. We lay thus for some time unnoticed, and began to hope that we should not be discovered. Still, I must say, I did not care what happened to us. I asked Tommy how he felt.

“Oh, Jack! Jack?” he groaned out, “Do take me by the head and heels, and heave me overboard, there’s a good fellow!”

“That’s just what I was going to ask you to do for me,” I answered, in the same dolorous tone, though I have an idea, that if any one had actually taken us at our word, the cold water would soon have restored us to health, and we should have wished ourselves on board again. Suddenly, we were all aroused by a gruff voice sounding in our ears, and, looking up, who should we see, but that hard-hearted individual, Bryan Knowles, the ship’s corporal, standing over us, cane in hand.

“What are all you boys idling here for?” he growled out. “Rouse up, every one of you; rouse up, you young villains, and go to your duty?”

Poor little wretches that we were; as if we could possibly do anything but just crawl from one place to another, and lie down, wishing to die. But it was not only the boys who were ill, but great hulking fellows, some seamen, but mostly marines; fully fifty of them, lying and rolling about the decks like logs of wood. I need not further describe the scene, or enter into too minute particulars.

At length, old Futtock, the boatswain—a friend of Sergeant Turbot’s—gave me leave to go and lie down in his cabin till I should get better. The very feeling that I had some one to care for me did me good.

In most ships there is a dirty Jem; we had one, a miserable fellow, with a skin which no amount of washing could cleanse. Now it happened that a party of tall marines had stolen down the fore cock-pit, and having found their way into the cable tier, had snugly stowed themselves on some spare sails and hawsers. There they lay, groaning and moaning, and making other noises significant of what was going on, when Mr Maconochie, a big, burly Scotchman, mate of the orlop deck, coming forward, heard them, and very soon began to peer about with his large goggle eyes into the recesses of the tier. I dreaded the consequences, as, slipping out of the cabin where I had been, I looked out to see what he was about.

“What are you sodgers doing there?” he roared out, in a furious passion at seeing what they had been about.

One of them, with a wicked leer, at once pointed to Dirty Jem, who lay fast asleep not far off. Now, whether Mr Maconochie thought he could not punish the marines, and was glad to get hold of some other individual on whom to vent his rage, I do not know; but, be that as it may, he roused up the poor boy, and having boxed his ears, ordered him to take one of the steerage, that is, a midshipman’s hammock—which had been left by the marine who ought to have lashed it up—and to carry it up and stow it in the poop nettings. Poor Jem poked his fingers into one of the turns, and began to drag the big hammock along, but so weak was he that he could scarcely move. I do not think he could ever have got up, even to the lower deck. Fortunately for Dirty Jem, Mr Blunt, who would allow no one but himself to bully, and that he never did, happened to come down, and inquiring why he was dragging the hammock, ordered him to put it down, and hauled Mr Maconochie pretty severely over the coals for his barbarity. The marines had meantime sneaked off, and thus escaped the mate’s rage. I had got nearly well by this time, and thought, as the ship was still tumbling about, that I was going to enjoy myself. The captain, however, having ascertained that we had got our sea legs and sea stomachs into order, ordered the ship’s corporal to turn us out of our hammocks at four o’clock next morning to muster at the lee gangway. We there had to answer to our number, and then came the pipe—

“Watch and idlers, holystone decks?”

We were sent on to the poop, and were employed for some time amidst the slashing and dashing of water, working away on our bare knees on the sanded decks, grinding them with the holystones. Then we had to scrub with hard brushes, while the captain of the mizen-top kept dashing buckets full of water round us, often sending one right into our faces. There were generally one or two of the midshipmen there, who had to paddle about, with their trousers tucked up and their feet and legs bare; however, as the first-lieutenant set them the example, they had no cause to complain.

For a whole day I had seen nothing of Dicky Plumb. At length, one morning, who should appear on deck but the young gentleman himself. He looked doubtingly at first at what was going forward, then off he slipped his shoes and socks, rolled up his trousers, and began like the others running here and there, seeing that all hands worked away with a will. We had to muster for numerous purposes—to see that we were clean, and that our hammocks were lashed up properly. The latter was severe work; for, the hammocks being heavy and we little, when the ship was rolling it was as much as we could do, and sometimes more than we could do, to hold on to them, and keep ourselves from rolling away across the deck. Poor Jem (Dirty Jem, I mean) was often in trouble. The lieutenant made us tuck up our shirt-sleeves and trousers, and then lift our arms and legs to see that they were properly washed. Dirty Jem had really got his arms clean up to his elbows, and legs up to the knees.

“Turn up your shirt-sleeves higher, boy, and your trousers too,” said the lieutenant.

A dark rim of dirt was seen at each place.

“Corporal, give this boy twelve finnams!” exclaimed the lieutenant.

“Please, sir, I didn’t know that we were to muster there,” spluttered out Dirty Jem.

The excuse, however, did not save him. He got the finnams, and had to clean himself into the bargain. To the latter operation he objected even more than the first, and seemed to think it a very hard case of cruelty. However, I shall have no space for our adventures in the far East, if I go spinning my yarn in this style. We touched at Madeira, the chief object, I fancy, being to procure a cask or two of wine for the captain and the admiral on the station. Hearing one day that we were nearing the line, I, with Tommy Punchon and several other boys, were very anxious to know what that could mean. I promised to ask Sergeant Turbot. I did so. He looked very wise, and replied—“Why, you understand, Jack, that the line is what you don’t see, but it’s there, and runs right round the world, from east to west, or west to east, it’s all the same. And then it’s very hot there, because the sun is right overhead, and for the same cause it’s always summer, and the days are neither very long nor very short, and there are mostly calms. For this reason, and because he could not pick out a more comfortable part of the whole watery-world, the king of the ocean, Daddy Neptune, as we call him, once on a time used to live there. He does not now, that I know of, because I have heard say that all the heathen gods and goddesses have given up living at all on the earth; though, to be sure, I don’t say but what he and they may visit it now and then. Now, Jack, you understand all about the matter, or as much as I, a sergeant of the Royal Marines, do, and that surely must be quite enough for a second-class boy on board ship.”

Full of the lucid information I had received, I returned to my messmates, who told me that, in spite of what the sergeant had said, they heard, positively, that Neptune and all his court were coming on board, either the next day or the following. Sure enough, Daddy did come on board, in right fashion, when the opportunity was taken of giving Dirty Jem a thorough washing, and punishing three or four other individuals in a rather unpleasant way, by cramming their mouths full of grease and pitch, under the pretence of lathering them, before being shaved by Neptune’s barber. I should say, that a lower studding-sail had been fastened up, in the form of a long bag, in the main deck, on the starboard side, and filled with water. The skid gratings had been taken off, so that, looking down from the starboard gangway, nothing but water was to be seen. Neptune and his wife made their appearance from forward, sitting on what they said was their chariot, but which looked like a gun-carriage. They had two infants, who put me wonderfully in mind of two small boys in our mess, while his wife had very much the appearance of Ned Rawlings; and I thought, too, I recognised the features of his secretary, his coachman, and barber. They were followed by a number of courtiers, and twenty-four bears, and as many constables. The chief business of the latter was to catch the fellows who were to be shaved and ducked. We boys were tossed about from side to side of the tank by the bears, they crying out, “He’s none of my child!” and very fortunate we thought ourselves when we got out again. The side being smooth and steep as an earthen pan, we were very much like rats caught in one. Besides Dirty Jem, the smaller, we had a big, hulking fellow—Michael Clack, by name. He was a dirty, lazy, lubberly fellow, disliked and despised by all the ship’s company. He had, from the first, I doubt not, a pretty good notion that he would receive no very delicate treatment from Neptune’s ministers, so he went and hid himself away, thinking that he might, perhaps, escape notice. He had been marked, however, from the first.

“Michael Clack! Michael Clack!” was soon called out by the secretary, and “Michael Clack! Michael Clack!” resounded along the decks. The constables searched for him everywhere, along each deck, behind every chest, and each store-room, and in each corner into which he could possibly have crept. At last, it was believed that he must have gone overboard. Still, as he had been seen by more than one of the boys scudding along the decks faster than he had ever been known to move before, the fact that he had gone overboard was doubted by a great many. At length, the constables instituted another search along the orlop deck, and in the cable tier. A shout proclaimed that Clack was found. He was stowed away in the coil of a cable, and a piece of canvas drawn neatly over him. He was dragged up, and placed on the plank before Neptune.

“You are a big, lazy, idle, mischievous, do-nothing rascal,” began his Majesty. “You deserve no good from any one, and you will get it, too, my hearty! Give him Number 1.” That was the roughest razor in use. “Plenty of lather! Lay it on thick!” Neptune’s ministers of justice did not require a second bidding. The moment the unhappy Clack opened his mouth to plead his cause, the tar-brush was run almost down his throat. His face was next covered with it, and scraped with a jagged razor, till the blood ran out in all directions. In this state he was tossed into the tank, and bandied about among the bears, every one of whom owed him a grudge, till some one cried out that he was done for. He had fainted, or, like the Australian dingo, had pretended to faint, and looked, indeed, as if he were dead. The captain, seeing what had happened, was very angry, and ordering him to be taken to the doctor, forbade the sports to be continued. Neptune and his secretary begged pardon as well as they could for what had happened, and he and his followers waddled forward, and disappeared over the bows. We heard that evening that Michael Clack was very ill, and there was a general idea that he was going to die. What the doctor thought about the matter I do not know.

Clack hated work, but he disliked nasty physic still more. This the doctor knew; and by giving him all the most nauseous draughts he could think of he soon got him out of the sick list. Clack, though out of the sick list, was very soon in the black list; and being shortly afterwards detected in helping himself to the contents of another man’s bag, he was adjudged by the captain to be placed in irons, to be kept in solitary confinement, and otherwise punished.

Chapter Five.
Across the Ocean.

Falling in at length with the north-east trade-winds, we stood towards the coast of South America, and entered Rio de Janeiro harbour, which was but very little, if anything, out of our course for the Cape of Good Hope. This will be seen by a glance at a map of the world, and ships, therefore, frequently touch there on their way to the regions beyond the Cape of Good Hope. It is a magnificent bit of water, surrounded by curiously-shaped mountains and peaks, with a big city on its shores, full of large streets and no end of churches. Sergeant Turbot took Tommy Punchon and me with him, to keep us out of mischief, though we would rather have gone alone to try and get into it. I was astonished at the quantity of black slaves, grunting and groaning away under their heavy loads. Still, they were ever ready for a joke, and the niggers we met with loads were merry laughing fellows, who went along singing and joking, as if no such thing as slavery existed. I might fill my journal with an account of the numberless curious things I saw on shore, but if I did I should have no space for my own adventures; so I will leave to others to give a description of Rio, and go on with my sea log.

That night, when we got on board again, Sergeant Turbot and the boatswain were walking the forecastle, and Punchon and I were standing not far off, when a splash was heard, and the sentry shouted out, “A man overboard!” He immediately fired, but did not hit the man, whose head I could see as I looked out from one of the ports as he struck out boldly for the land; there were plenty of sharks about, so that there was not much chance of his reaching it, even if he was allowed to go. The sentry’s shot was, however, followed by the officer of the watch calling away the second cutter. She was lowered and manned pretty quickly, and I watched her eagerly as she made chase after the fugitive. He was soon brought back, and proved to be no other than Michael Clack, who, taking advantage of the short interval when a prisoner is relieved from his manacles in the evening, had contrived to slip overboard. No one had supposed that he was a good swimmer, yet, to reach the shore, he must have been a first-rate one. Perhaps some friend had told him that an American vessel lay inside of us, and he hoped to reach her, when he would have been taken on board and concealed. He would, however, have been a somewhat dear bargain, if they had got him. We were soon again at sea, steering across the Atlantic for the Cape of Good Hope. I need scarcely say that soon after we got out of harbour Michael Clack got four dozen for his attempt at desertion. I am not going to describe the ceremony; it is a very unpleasant one for all hands concerned. Still, I must own, Master Michael got what he deserved.

“You have heard of good service stripes, may-be, Jack?” said the sergeant to me. “Those are what we call bad service stripes; and mind you, boy, never do anything to deserve them.”

I asked Sergeant Turbot if he could tell me anything of these trade-winds, which had been blowing so strong in our favour for so many days.

“That’s just what I have been talking to Futtock about,” he answered. “He and I make it out, that they always do blow in some parts from the north-east, and, further south, from the south-east. Why they blow thus, is more than I can tell you; but I’ve heard say, that they have got the name of trade-winds, because they help on traders in a voyage through the Atlantic.”

I was not quite satisfied with this answer, and determined to try and find out more of the matter by-and-by. The weather had been threatening for some hours, and towards evening the hands were turned up to reef topsails. Three reefs were at once taken in, and not a moment too soon. Down came the gale upon us. The big ship heeled over till the lower-deck ports were under water. The rolling seas tossed round her, and roared, as if eager to swallow her up. The wind whistled, the thunder growled, every now and then breaking overhead with tremendous rattles and crashes, and a pitchy darkness came down over the ocean, the occasional flashes of lightning only rendering the darkness still more dark. Before long we had our fore-topsail close reefed, three reefs in the main-top-sail, and mizen-topsail furled, and we were running dead before the gale, at not less than fifteen knots an hour. Mr Futtock said that we were going twenty; and, of course, I believed him; but I do not now, because I never found the fastest ship go so fast, and the old Roarer was, as the men said, a good one to fight, but not to go. In spite of the remarks I made of our captain, many of the men still held to the notion that there was more talk than do in him.

“Just a lady’s man—very fine to look at, with his cambric handkerchiefs and scent bottles, but you never get much out of such chaps.”

Officers little think how much they are discussed by the men. The second-lieutenant was thought still less of, and not without reason. He was fond of spouting poetry, and doing the polite to young ladies, whenever any came off to see the ship; but as to seamanship, he knew little about it. He often got the ship into a mess, but had no idea of getting her out of it again. Now, it happened to be his first watch; it had just struck eight bells. The starboard watch had been called, and a few minutes afterwards the other watch was mustered. During this time the rounds went to see all cleared up and safe below. The watch relieved was just turning in. Some already had their clothes off, when suddenly a fearful crashing sound was heard. No one knew what had happened, only that there was a feeling that the ship was in some awful danger. Not a word was heard from the officer of the watch. If we were in peril he was not going to take us out of it—so it seemed. Neither Punchon nor I had taken off our clothes, so we scrambled on deck to see what was the matter. A seaman will understand our position, when I say that the ship was taken right aback, and driving, stern first, at the rate of some twelve knots an hour, with the sea breaking over her poop, two-thirds of which were already under water. No one spoke; not an order was given. Suddenly, a loud voice was heard, shouting, “On deck, lads, for your lives?” and directly afterwards Ned Rawlings piped, “All hands save ship!” The crew were on deck almost before the sound of the pipe had died away; and again the same voice—we now knew it to be that of the captain—shouted, “Man the starboard fore-brace!” Officers, marines, any one who was near, grasped the rope, and hauled away on it with a will. The head yards were very soon braced right up, and the head sails took and filled at the very moment that the poop was nearly under water, and it seemed as if the ship was going bodily down. The main and cross-jack yards were soon braced round, and in less than a quarter of an hour from the time the wind had shifted we were braced sharp up on the starboard tack, and going seven knots through the water.

“We have had a merciful deliverance,” I heard old Futtock remark to the gunner a short time afterwards. “It’s not often that a ship gets into the position we were in and gets out of it. In another minute the sea would have been rushing right over the poop down on our quarter-deck, and it would have been all over with us. If Mr Muddlehead had had his wits about him, he would have braced the yards up the moment we were taken aback. A pretty go it would have been, if we had not been under snug sail. Why, we should have gone right down, stern foremost, and never have come up again. That’s been the fate of many a ship out in these parts, which has never since been heard of.”

“A fine fellow, our skipper,” I heard Mr Plumb observe to a messmate. “I really did think at first that the Brigadier and my mother would have had to bewail my loss. I am deeply indebted to him.”

A loud laugh followed the young gentleman’s remark. “Ha! ha! ha! Dicky, remember that all people are not taken at their own value,” exclaimed an old mate, who was fond of putting Mr Plumb down now and then. After this night our captain was more than ever respected by the crew, because he was now known to be a thorough seaman—a doer as well as a talker—and in consequence he maintained discipline on board without flogging and without difficulty.

We touched at the Cape, where Dicky Plumb really did go on shore and dine with the Governor, who happened to be a friend of his father’s, and he took good care afterwards to talk not a little about his visit to his messmates, and the way he was treated by the Governor.

I was at this time appointed to wait on the midshipmen, the boy I superseded being the unfortunate Jem Smudge.

“I don’t like having you to wait on us,” observed Mr Midshipman Plumb to me, one day soon after this. “I am afraid the fellows will be abusing you, and I could not stand that; but you must not mind it, if they do; and if you will bear abuse for a little time, I will manage to make all square in the end.”

“Do not trouble yourself about that, Master Richard,” I answered. “Depend upon it, I don’t care what the young gentlemen say to me. I intend to do my duty to them, and Sergeant Turbot says it will be all the better for me. So, whatever they say, let it pass. Don’t say anything for or against me.”

“As to that, Jack, you must let me take my own course,” answered Mr Plumb.

I found that Dicky Plumb got considerably laughed at by his companions for what they called his uppishness, and his boasting of his various friends and relations of rank. Still, nothing would ever put him down.

“It is no fault of mine if my father happens to have a Duke for a cousin, or a Governor-General of India for a brother-in-law, or if he is intimate with the Prime Minister, or if the Queen herself holds him in high estimation; so I do not see why you chaps should laugh at me.”

“But, I say, Master Dicky,” exclaimed an old mate, Sampson Trueman by name, “is it a fact that your father has a cousin a Duke, and is brother-in-law to the Governor-General?”

“I ask you, Mr Trueman, whether it is becoming of you—a master’s mate in the British navy, and soon, I hope, should the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty be made aware of your superlative merits, to become a lieutenant—to call in question the word of another officer, notwithstanding that he may not be of your own exalted rank,” exclaimed Dicky, in his usual pompous manner. “I must decline answering those questions.”

There was a general laugh, in which Mr Trueman joined; and though, probably, the older members of the mess suspected that the gentleman had been romancing, others were still under the impression that he really possessed the exalted connections of whom he boasted.

Helped along by a fine steady breeze we made good progress, and at length reached the entrance to the river Hoogley. Dicky got leave to accompany the captain up to Calcutta. Whether or not he was received as a relative by the Governor-General no one in his own mess could ascertain. He dined, however, at Government House, but that might have been in consequence of some introduction sent out by Mrs Brigadier. She was, at all events, a person to take care that her son should not be overlooked. We did not remain there long before we received orders to make the best of our way on to China, where an expedition was engaged in teaching the Celestials to pay due respect to the outside barbarians, as they call the nations of Europe.

Chapter Six.
We Reach the Flowery Land.

On a fine afternoon we found ourselves sailing into a beautiful bay, with high mountains rising up on either side. We soon dropped anchor off a town, which we found was the new English city of Victoria, in the island of Hong Kong, close to the mainland of China. A large number of other vessels were already at anchor, men-of-war, merchantmen, transports, and store-ships. The transports had on board a body of British troops destined, as Sergeant Turbot informed me, to teach the Chinese manners.

Before long, several of the officers and men from other ships of the squadron came aboard us, and soon told us what had been done, making us, of course, very eager to be engaged in similar exploits. Boxes, slippers, daggers, knives, and all sorts of articles were exhibited as trophies. The most highly prized were the Chinamen’s pigtails, which our men had cut off, they declared, when the enemy ran away. We had a busy time of it at Hong Kong. It was understood that there would probably be a good deal more fighting with the Chinese. The marines, of course, expected to be employed on shore. I could not help feeling, however, somewhat anxious for my friend, Sergeant Turbot; for in that climate to have to make a long march, or to storm a fort at the top of a hill, would, I thought, too likely prove fatal to him.

“We shall have some work, Jack, before long,” he observed to me; “and I have no doubt our corps will uphold its credit. These Chinese are curious fellows to fight with, I hear; for, though they are easily beaten, they don’t seem to find it out; they stop and fight till they are killed. I rather think, however, Jack, that you will be disappointed, as our ship is not likely to have much work to do herself, except, perhaps, attacking forts at the mouths of the rivers, or a big town or two near the sea. However, you will hear of it from those who are sent away in the boats, and I dare say we marines shall have something to talk about when we get back.”

A day or two after this, however, Mr Plumb stopped me outside the berth.

“Jack,” he said, “I have been appointed to a schooner—the Fawn—which is to be fitted out as a tender to the ship. Mr Ormsby, the third lieutenant, is to command her, and I have made up my mind to get you as one of her crew. Two or three boys are certain to be sent in her.”

I thanked Master Dicky for his kind intentions.

“If I am ordered to go, I must,” I observed, “but I would rather ask Sergeant Turbot what he thinks about the matter, if I am to have my choice.”

I told the sergeant.

“I don’t want to lose sight of you, boy; but, of course, you will see more of what is going forward if you go aboard the schooner, and you will get more seamanship, too, than you will in this big ship.”

I told Mr Plumb, the next time I saw him, what the sergeant said.

“Of course, I knew he would,” he answered, “and I will see about it, Jack.”

Whether Master Dicky had anything to do in the matter or not, I do not know; but I and Tommy Punchon were two of the boys selected to go on board the schooner.

The whole squadron soon after sailed, and proceeded to the mouth of the Canton River, where they astonished the Celestials by blowing their forts to pieces. The larger ships remained at the mouth of the river, while the smaller vessels, we among them, with a couple of steamers, were sent higher up. The Chinese did their best, of course, to bamboozle the diplomatists. However, those gentlemen saw enough to make them advise all the foreign merchants living at Canton to leave the place. They heard also that the Chinese had laid plans to destroy the English ships, and that a large army was also collecting, to meet our troops, should they land. We, with several other small men-of-war, corvettes, and brigs, lay high up the river. Generally speaking, the river is crowded with boats of every possible shape and fashion, moving up and down the stream. A vast number of people live in these boats, and merely go on shore occasionally to buy food, or to sell their fish or ducks, or the articles they may have brought from other places. At this time, however, not a boat was to be seen; they had all gone up the creeks, out of the way of the barbarians. At length the sun set gloomily, the sky was overcast, and the darkness increased, till it was difficult to see far beyond the bowsprit end. Our people were all ordered to remain on deck. The guns were loaded, and each man was armed. The boats were cleared, ready to be lowered as they hung at the davits, at a moment’s notice.

“Well, Jack, what do you think of it?” said Mr Plumb, who came forward where I was standing.

“I suppose something or other is going to happen,” I answered, “but I don’t know what.”

“Why, I will tell you,” he said; “the Chinese think they are going to catch a weasel asleep, but they are mistaken. They will find that they have only stirred up the British Lion with a long pole, and that he will not only roar, but make a spring which will astonish them. I have been anxious to have something to do, and I hope we are going to find it at last.”

Scarcely had he spoken, when the sentry from a vessel ahead of us hailed. He got no answer, it seemed, for he immediately fired. Directly he had done so, in the midst of the darkness, as it were, a bright light burst forth, blazing away furiously, and revealing a number of dark objects floating on the water. Instantly the drum sounded, beating to quarters. The Chinese had commenced their plan for destroying the English ships by fire-rafts. The boats of the squadron were seen immediately, pulling up the river, when, grappling the rafts, they towed them away clear of the ships. Some went on shore on one bank, some on the other. Some drifted down towards a village, the houses of which they immediately set on fire.

Dicky Plumb had jumped into one of the boats, and I, without orders, followed him. We steered away towards one of the rafts which seemed to be approaching the Fawn. Just as we got hold of it, it burst into flames; but, in spite of the heat, we got it clear of the vessel, and did not leave it till it was close in with the shore. And now, on all sides, were blazing up vast fires, some drifting about the river, others on shore where the rafts had struck; their light exhibiting the panic-stricken Chinese who had had charge of them, some trying to escape towards the shore, others swimming down the stream, those who could not swim standing on the deck till driven overboard by the heat; all the time a sharp fire being kept up at them by our marines, who, naturally, under such circumstances, showed them but little mercy. As the first body of fire-rafts had been towed clear, guns opened on us from the shore, the Chinese having erected several new batteries for that purpose. Now began the roar of artillery, though, in consequence of the darkness, the Chinese, not being able to distinguish the vessels, took but bad aim. We also could only find out the whereabouts of their batteries by the light of their guns, and the reflection of the fire from the burning houses on the shore. These showed us numerous Tartar officers hurrying about, and endeavouring to rally and encourage their men to fight the guns. We managed, as did other vessels, to escape damage, by alternately veering out cable and shortening it again, so as considerably to alter our position, and thus to deceive the Chinese gunners.

This sort of work continued till daylight. At length, when the sun rose in an unclouded sky, it exhibited to our sight a scene of havoc and destruction on either side. On the banks were the wrecks of the still burning fire-vessels; the batteries on shore knocked to pieces by our shot; the suburbs of the town, and several of the villages, in flames; while, here and there, a spar knocked away on board the vessels, or some other trifling damage, showed how we had been employed during the night. One of our active little steamers, soon after daylight, was some distance ahead, when a large junk made her appearance from round a point, and began firing away. The steamer very quickly put the junk to flight, when, at a signal made, the boats of the squadron were ordered to proceed after her. In a few minutes, some twenty men-of-war’s boats were pulling away, as hard as the crews could lay their backs to the oars. I, as before, jumped into Dicky Plumb’s boat, and she was away before I was discovered. No sooner had we rounded the point I have spoken of, than a whole fleet of war junks and boats of all sorts were found huddled together at no great distance. Instantly, we dashed at them. Many of the junks had soldiers on board, who, as soon as they saw us coming, did their best to get on shore, shoving off in small boats as fast as they could leap into them. Some, in their hurry, fell overboard. A considerable number had thus made their escape by the time we reached the scene of action. Some of the junks and boats were pulling away up the river. We, with other boats, made chase. The shot from the ships’ launches quickly set many of the junks on fire. As soon as we got up to a junk, we examined her carefully, to ascertain if anybody was on board, before we devoted her to the flames. In a short time, the whole water was covered with burning vessels, one after the other, those having powder on board blowing up with loud explosions. In spite of our humane intentions, there are so many hiding-places on board a Chinese junk, that nearly in every one several unfortunate fellows had concealed themselves. As the fires in creased, we saw them rushing up from below, where they would remain until no longer able to bear the heat on deck. Some then were seen to jump desperately overboard. Most of these swam on shore without much difficulty; but others, who apparently could not swim, remained clinging to the outside of the junk or the rudder. Here we saw them holding on till the junk blew up, or the heat compelled them to leave their last refuge.

When we could, we took them on board, but there were so many junks burning together that this was not always possible, and consequently a considerable number must have perished. We had got alongside a boat, not knowing what was on board her, when Dicky Plumb leaped on to her deck. I had followed him, when my eye caught sight of a little fizzing spot of light, just as if the end of a cigar had been thrown down. I saw the fire slowly working its way on. In an instant, it occurred to me that it was a slow match. Seizing my friend by the arm, I leaped back into the boat.

“Hillo, Jack! what do you mean by that?” he exclaimed in an indignant tone.

“Shove off!” I shouted, “and pull away!”

The men guessed what it was, and the boat had not got ten yards off, when up went the Chinese craft, on board which we had been a moment before, shivered into a thousand fragments. There were a number of similar boats near at hand, some of which caught fire, and blew up at the same moment.

Happily, we escaped without much hurt. We found fifty of a similar character, which had been prepared for the destruction of the English fleet. It was a curious scene—the Chinese craft, of all sizes, sailing, pulling, and paddling away in every direction, the English boats dashing here and there in pursuit. Sometimes a Chinaman would blow up just as one of our boats got alongside, and then we had to pull off after a different enemy. We had captured a good many junks, when, some way ahead, we saw what looked like a steamer. Though there was no steam up, the wheels were paddling away. We managed, however, to get up to her, when overboard jumped a number of people; and, on reaching her deck, we found that, though there were paddles outside, the inside had only wooden machinery, to be worked something like a treadmill by men. She managed, however, to go through the water at the rate of three or four knots an hour. Several similar sham steamers were captured, which had been manufactured by the Celestials, for the purpose of overawing us barbarians. The fighting for the day, however, was very far from finished. The troops had been landed, as well as the marines and brigades of blue jackets, and were now busily employed in storming the forts surrounding Canton. We had gone up a creek which ran near the base of a high hill, on the top of which was a fort. A party of marines and blue jackets had marched round by land, to attack it, and as we approached, we saw them charge up the hill. Mr Hanson, the mate, who commanded the boat, was very eager to join in the fray. We had a strong current against us. However, by dint of hard pulling, we managed at length to get up near the base of the hill. The Chinese at the top had made a gallant defence, and many of our people had already been killed or wounded, or knocked up by the heat. Among others, struggling up the side of the hill, I saw a marine, whom I knew by his red coat; his sword was in his mouth, and with hands and feet he was endeavouring to climb up the steep side of the hill. I guessed by his figure that he must be my friend Sergeant Turbot. I could almost fancy that I heard him puffing and groaning, as every now and then he looked up, and shouted to his men to lend him a hand. They, however, had dashed on, to get at the enemy; in fact, it seemed a wonder that he should have escaped hitherto with his life from the showers of shot which came sweeping down the hill-side. Just then, we saw, coming round the base of the hill, a strong body of Tartar troops, evidently intending to take our men in the rear.

“Now is the time, my lads!” shouted Mr Hanson, starting up.

It must be understood that we had been completely concealed from the enemy. With loud shouts and cries we all dashed forward together to attack the head of the enemy’s column. They, expecting that we were merely a leading body of blue jackets, turned tail, and retreated, with a greater rapidity than they had advanced, we keeping up a hot fire in their rear. I could not bear the thoughts of leaving my old friend in his present predicament, and, therefore, without stopping to ask leave, I scampered off to his assistance, forgetting all about the shower of bullets through which I had to pass. Happily, not one hit me, and I was soon by the sergeant’s side.

“Why, Jack, you seem to me like an angel from heaven!” he exclaimed, as he saw me. “Put your shoulder under me and help me up. Up I must go, but it was cruel to send me to storm such a hill. It is not fit work for a man of my figure; but, up! up!”

The sergeant had chosen a short cut, though a very steep one. By my aid, shoving astern, we had already made some progress, when part of the boat’s crew arrived, led on by Dicky Plumb.

“Oh, Mr Plumb, do get your men to lend me a hand and haul me up this place. We should be in the fort as soon as the rest, if we could but get up to the top of the cliff.”

I was not sorry, I confess, to have some assistance. By the aid of the men the sergeant at last reached a level spot at the summit of the hill.

“Now, my lads,” he shouted, taking his sword from his mouth, “we’ll be at them!”

The Chinese, believing that no one could get up that way, had neglected its defences. Led on, therefore, by the gallant sergeant, we all together made a dash into the fort. The enemy, taken on the flank, began to give way, and the main body of marines and bluejackets, making a renewed effort in front, dashed in over all obstacles, cutting down the defenders, who stood bravely at their guns till the last.

“Jack, Jack,” said the sergeant, when the fort was in our possession, “I owe you much. You saved my life, I believe, but you did more than that, you saved my honour.”

Before the day was over, not only Canton, but all the surrounding forts were in possession of the British. As Sergeant Turbot could descend the hill more easily than he could get up it, I wished him good-bye, and returned with my young officer to the boat. Poor Mr Hanson had received a wound in the leg, which had, I found, prevented him joining in the attack.

Chapter Seven.
Our Cruise in the Junk.

Just as we got out of the creek we caught sight of a large junk stealing round a point at no great distance from us. Although Mr Hanson and one of the men were wounded, he instantly ordered us to give chase, and away we pulled after the junk, which as we rounded the point we saw was making for one of the innumerable canals which intersect the country in all directions. If she once got into it she might escape us. The men therefore bent to their oars with a right good will, apparently just as fresh, as when they left the schooner in the morning. As we approached the junk, the Chinese began firing at us with their gingals and swivels, and for a couple of minutes or more we were exposed to a pretty heavy shower of bullets. I got the rim of my hat taken off.

“No odds,” I cried out; “it’s better than the tip of my nose.”

A man near me had a shot through the fleshy part of his shoulder, and a dozen bullets or more stuck in the sides of our boat. On we dashed, however, right under the oars of the Chinaman.

“Come on, my lads?” shouted Dicky Plumb, whose blood was up to boiling pitch; and catching hold of a pike which was thrust at him, he hauled himself up on to the junk’s deck, four of our men climbing up at the same moment. Fortunately for Master Dicky, Ned Rawlings was by his side, and saved his head from a blow aimed at him by a Chinaman. Mr Hanson, in spite of his wound, got the men to haul him up. I followed close behind Mr Plumb, and in a few seconds we were all upon the deck of the Chinaman, slashing and cutting away. So frightened had the Chinese become at our proceedings in the morning, that very few stopped to oppose us, and scarcely had we gained the deck, than the crew began to jump overboard on the opposite side. In another minute not a Chinaman was left alive on the upper deck.

“Now, lads, let us look after them below!” shouted Mr Plumb, leading the way to the main deck. A considerable number of the crew had remained there, intent upon mischief. As they saw us, however, they made a bolt right forward and leaped through a large port, striking out for the shore, which was not more than thirty yards off.

“They have been after something or other,” cried Mr Plumb.

As he spoke, I sprang down to the deck below, and there I saw what looked like a thin snake of fire crawling along the deck. I rushed at it, and found the end of a slow match which had not long been lighted. To snatch it up and throw it overboard was the work of a moment. I was only just in time, however, and did not feel very comfortable even then, for it was leading down, through an opening in the deck, to what I had little doubt was the magazine. Ned Rawlings, who had followed me, sprang to where several buckets were hung up, and seizing one of them to which a rope was attached, in a moment he had it full of water, which he dashed down the opening into the magazine. Mr Hanson now ordered the cable of the junk to be cut, and sent the boat ahead to tow her out of the creek. There was no time to be lost, for a number of Chinese were collecting on the shore, some of them already beginning to take long shots at us. Four hands jumped into the boat with Mr Plumb, while two others, with Ned Rawlings and I, remained to assist Mr Hanson. As there were a number of small boats along the shore, the Chinese might easily have come back again; but they expected to see us blown up into the air, and the fear of the consequence kept them at a distance, and proved our safety.

At length, just as it was growing dusk, we got clear out into the harbour, when the wind proving fair, we hoisted the junk’s sails, and stood away towards where we expected to find the schooner. Several times we were chased by English boats, and were twice fired at by some of our friends, who supposed that our junk was still in the hands of the Chinese, who were endeavouring to escape. Our prize was indeed a curious craft; a capital place for playing hide-and-seek in—full of all sorts of odd little cabins and cupboards and recesses in which people could stow themselves away. Having found several lanterns, we lighted them, and Mr Dicky and I hunted throughout the vessel, in case any Chinese were still on board, who might steal out and perhaps after all blow up the vessel. We thought that we had looked into all the cabins and cupboards, and nooks and corners, and came and reported the same to Mr Hanson.

“Go and look again, Dicky,” he answered. “Take Rawlings with you, and let him run the point of his cutlass gently through all the crevices.”

Off we started again, Rawlings carrying a huge paper lantern, covered with dragons and other monsters, and having his cutlass ready to stick into any crevice we might discover. We began forward, examining all sorts of curious places, but no one was to be found there. At length we got aft, where we thought we had searched thoroughly, and came to a little cupboard in one of the quarters, into which Ned gently inserted the point of his weapon. A shrill cry, which made us start, was the result, and putting in his hand he hauled out a young Chinese boy, who had managed to coil himself away in a very small space. He seemed by his gestures to be entreating us not to kill him, and then gave us to understand that he was anxious to be our friend, and to serve us. Of course, not a word he said could we understand.

“Are there any more of you stowed away?” asked Ned; but if we did not understand the Chinese boy, neither did he understand us, and no answer could be got to this question.

Having looked about in the neighbourhood of the spot where we found the boy, we carried him on deck to Mr Hanson. He there went through the gestures he had made to us, and Mr Hanson signed to him to sit down on the deck, and let him know that he would receive no harm. We were then sent back to continue our search. No other person was, however, found, and at length we got alongside the schooner. We were received by a loud cheer from our shipmates, and Mr Ormsby ordered us to retain possession till he could inspect the junk in the morning, and settle what was to be done with her.

“But Mr Hanson is wounded, sir,” sung out Dicky Plumb; “and besides, sir, we are hard up for grub. The provisions the Chinese have left on board don’t look very tempting.”

Mr Hanson, with the other wounded man, was therefore ordered to go on board, that the assistant-surgeon might look to their hurts, while a supply of provisions was sent us from the schooner, Dicky Plumb thus remaining in command of the junk.

“Jack,” he said to me, “if I had my will, I should like to appoint you my first-lieutenant, for I think you know as much about seamanship as I do; but as that would not be quite correct, I am afraid I must have Ned Rawlings as my second in command. I only hope we may be ordered to take a cruise somewhere. It would be great fun going away by ourselves to look after prizes, would it not?”

I agreed with him, but observed that I did not think Mr Ormsby would dispatch us for that purpose. The next morning, when Mr Ormsby came on board, he declared that the junk we had taken was so fine a vessel that it would be a pity to destroy her, and therefore obtained leave to carry her off to Hong Kong.

“Can I remain in command of her, sir?” asked Dicky, touching his hat when Mr Ormsby had arrived at this decision.

The lieutenant looked at him with a smile.

“Why, Mr Plumb, what amount of navigation do you possess?”

“Why, sir,” said Dicky, promptly, “I know how to steer, and we can keep the Fawn in sight, so she will serve as our pole-star.”

“But suppose it came on thick weather, and you lost sight of us?” observed the lieutenant.

“We would not rest till we had found you again,” answered Dicky, promptly.

“I suspect the Fawn will outsail the junk, and then what will you do?”

“Ask every one we meet the whereabouts of Hong Kong,” answered Dicky.

“I have no doubt you would do your best,” said Mr Ormsby, “but still I cannot quite trust you. I must send Mr Hanson back, and I have no doubt that you will prove a very efficient first-lieutenant to him.”

With this Master Dicky was obliged to remain content, and, in a couple of days, Mr Hanson, having somewhat recovered his strength, came on board and took the command. Before many days were over the Chinese succeeded in bamboozling our plenipotentiaries; we gave up all we had won, and the fleet sailed away back to Hong Kong. We followed in the wake of the schooner, which had to shorten sail for us, when the wind was abeam; but at length it came aft, and we then kept very good way with her; indeed, she had to make all sail not to let us pass her. Our captive Chinese boy seemed very well reconciled to his fate. We could not make out what was his name, so we called him “Joss.” He was a merry, yellow-faced little chap, with the funniest pig-eyes imaginable. He seemed always ready to laugh, and sing, and dance about the deck. It was very evident that he would pick up English sooner than any of us were likely to learn a word of Chinese. In the course of a few days, indeed, he could ask for all sorts of things, and seemed to know a great deal that was said to him. I should say Mr Hanson spoke very handsomely of the way Dicky Plumb had behaved in boarding the Chinese, and told Mr Ormsby that he had been the first on deck, and how gallantly he had behaved also on shore, when attacking the fort. I found, also, that he made favourable mention of my conduct on both occasions.

“Indeed, had it not been for Junker,” I heard that he observed, “we might all of us have been blown into the other world.” Mr Ormsby had said that he should report my conduct to the captain, who would be sure not to let it pass unnoticed. Dicky told me all this.