CHAPTER NINETEEN.
_Fal_. Have you provided me here half a dozen sufficient men? _Shal_. Marry have we, sir. _Fal_. Let me see them, I beseech you. _Shal_. Where's the roll! where's the roll! Let them appear as I call. SHAKESPEARE.
As the reader will have a more intimate acquaintance with themhereafter, I must now enter into some description of the characters ofthe captain and officers, with whom our hero was fated to be a shipmate.To begin with the captain, who has already made his appearance in thecourse of these pages:--
Captain M--- was the son of a north-country gentleman--one of thenumerous class still existing in this world, who have inherited largeideas and small fortunes. As usual, the latter were got rid of muchsooner than the former. The consequence was, that although youngM--- was an only son, it was considered advisable that he should bebrought up to some profession. The naval service was selected byhimself, and approved of by his father, who, although he had no money,had some interest, that is to say, he had powerful and wealthyconnections, who, for their own sakes, rather than have to support theiryoung relation, would exert themselves to make him independent.
M--- rose to the rank of post-captain as fast as his friends could wish,and did credit to their patronage. Having once obtained for him thehighest rank that the profession could offer, until he became an admiralfrom seniority, they thought that they had done enough; and had it notbeen that Captain M---, by his zeal and abilities, had secured apersonal interest at the Board, he might have languished on half-pay;but his services were appreciated, and he was too good an officer not tobe employed. His father was dead, and the payment of debts which he hadcontracted, and the purchase of an annuity for his mother, had swallowedup almost all the prize-money which Captain M---, who had been verysuccessful, had realised; but he was single from choice, and frugal fromhabit. His pay, and the interest of the small remains of prize-money inthe funds, were more than adequate to his wants. He was enthusiastic inhis profession, and had the bad taste to prefer a fine ship to a finelady.
Having entered the service at a later period than was usual, he had theadvantage of an excellent education, which being naturally of a seriousdisposition, and fond of reading, he had very much improved by study.As an officer he was a perfect master of his profession, both in theoryand practice, and was what is termed afloat, "all for the service."Indeed, this feeling was so powerful in him, that, like Aaron's rod, itswallowed up all the rest. If there was any blemish in his character,it was in this point. Correct himself, he made no allowance forindiscretion; inflexibly severe, but always just, he in no instance everspared himself, nor would he ever be persuaded to spare others. Therules and regulations of the service, as laid down by the Board ofAdmiralty, and the articles of war, were as rigidly observed by him, andextracted from others, as if they had been added to the Decalogue; andany deviation or neglect was sure to bring down reprimand or punishmentupon the offender, whether it happened to be the senior lieutenant, orthe smallest boy in the ship's company.
But, with all his severity, so determined was Captain M--- to be just,that he never would exercise the power without due reflection. On oneoccasion, in which the conduct of a sailor had been very offensive, thefirst lieutenant observed that summary punishment would have a verybeneficial effect upon the ship's company in general. "Perhaps itmight, Mr H---," replied he; "but it is against a rule which I havelaid down, and from which I never deviate. Irritated as I am at thismoment with the man's conduct, I may perhaps consider it in a moreheinous light than it deserves, and be guilty of too great severity. Iam liable to error,--subject, as others, to be led away by the feelingsof the moment--and have therefore made a compact with myself never topunish until twenty-four hours after the offence has been committed; andso repeatedly, when at the time I have settled in my mind the quantum ofpunishment that the offender should receive, have I found, uponreflection, which delay has given time for, reasons to mitigate theseverity, that I wish, for the benefit of the service, that theAdmiralty would give a standing order to that effect."
Such was the character of Captain M---. It hardly need be added, afterthe events already narrated of this history, that he was a man ofundaunted bravery. In his person he was tall, and rather slight infigure. His features were regular, but there was a sternness in hiscountenance, and lines of deep thought on his brow, which rendered theexpression unpleasing. It was only when he smiled that you would havepronounced him handsome; then he was more than handsome, he wasfascinating.
Mr Bully, the first-lieutenant (who was the second-lieutenant in theship in the action with the French frigate), was an officer who wellunderstood his duty. He had the merit of implicitly obeying all orders;and, considering the well-known fact, that a first lieutenant has alwayssufficient cause to be put out of temper at least twenty times duringthe twelve hours, he was as good-tempered as a first-lieutenant couldpossibly be. He had entered the service when very young, and, being ofhumble extraction, had not had any advantage of education. In person hewas short and thick-set, and having suffered severely from the small-poxduring his infancy, was by no means prepossessing in his outwardappearance.
The second-lieutenant, whose name was Price, was a good-looking youngman, who kept his watch and read Shakespeare. He was constantlyattempting to quote his favourite author; but, fortunately for those whowere not fond of quotations, his memory was very defective.
Mr Courtenay, the third-lieutenant, was a little, bilious-lookingpersonage, who, to use the master's phraseology, was never quite happyunless he was damned miserable. He was full of misfortunes andgrievances, and always complaining or laughing, at his real or imaginarydisasters; but his complaint would often end in a laugh, or his mirthterminate in a whine. You never could exactly say whether he was injoke or in earnest. There was such a serio-comic humour about him thatone side of his countenance would express pleasure, while the otherindicated vexation. There seemed to be a perpetual war, in hiscomposition, of good-humour _versus_ bile, both of which were mostunaccountably blended in the same temperament.
According to seniority, Mr Pearce, the master, is the next to beintroduced to the reader: in external appearance, a rough, hard-headednorth-countryman; but, with an unpromising exterior, he was a man withsense and feeling. He had every requisite for his situation: his nerveswere like a chain-cable; he was correct and zealous in his duty; and agreat favourite of the captain's, who was his countryman. He was aboutfifty years of age, a married man, with a large family.
The surgeon, whose name was Macallan, was also most deservedly a greatfavourite with Captain M---; indeed, there was a friendship betweenthem, grown out of long acquaintance with each other's worth,inconsistent with, and unusual, in a service where the almost despoticpower of the superior renders the intimacy of the inferior similar tothe smoothing with your hand the paw of a lion, whose fangs, in a momentof caprice, may be darted into your flesh. He was a slight-made, spareman, of about thirty-five years of age, and had graduated and receivedhis diploma at Edinburgh,--an unusual circumstance at that period,although the education in the service was so defective, that the medicalofficers were generally the best informed in the ship. But he was morethan the above: he was a naturalist, a man of profound research, andwell informed upon most points--of an amiable and gentle disposition,and a sincere Christian.
It would naturally be inferred that those whose profession it is toinvestigate the human frame, and constantly have before their eyes thetruth that we are fearfully and wonderfully made, would be more inclinedthan others to acknowledge the infinite wisdom and power. But this istoo often found not to be the case, and it would appear as if the oldscholium, that "too much familiarity breeds contempt," may be found toact upon the human mind even when in communion with the Deity. Withwhat awe does the first acquaintance with death impress us! What athrill passes through the living, as it bends over the inanimate body,from which the spirit has departed! The clay that returns to the dustfrom which it sprung, the tenement t
hat was lately endued with volitionand life, the frame that exhibited a perfection of mechanism, deridingall human power, and confounding all human imagination, now an inanimatemass, rapidly decomposing, and soon to become a heap of corruption.
Strong as the feeling is, how evanescent it becomes, when oncefamiliarised! It has no longer power over the senses, and the soldierand sailor pillow themselves on the corpse with perfect indifference, ifnot with a jest. So it is with those who are accustomed to post-mortemarrangements, who wash and lay out the body previous to interment.
Yet, although we acknowledge that habit will remove the firstimpressions of awe, how is it that the minute investigation upon whichconviction ought to be founded, should too often have the contraryeffect from that which it should produce? Is it because mystery, theparent of awe, is in a certain degree removed?
Faith, says the apostle, is the evidence of things not seen. Therewould be no merit in believing what is perfectly evident to the senses.Yet some would argue that the evidence ought to be more clear andpalpable. If so, would not the awe be also removed, and would religiongain by it? We have enough imparted to convince us that all is right;and is not that which is hidden or secret purposely intended to producethat awe, without which the proud mind of man would spurn at infinitewisdom?
The above digression had nearly caused me to omit that Macallan had onepeculiar failing. His language, from long study, had been borrowed frombooks, more than from men and when he entered upon his favourite scienceof natural history, his enthusiasm made him more pedantic in his styleand pompous in his phraseology than ever. But who is perfect?
The purser, O'Keefe, was an elderly man, very careful of the pounds,shillings, and pence. He was affected with an incurable deafness, whichhe never thought proper to acknowledge, but catching at a word or two inthe sentence, would frame his answer accordingly, occasioning frequentmirth to his mess-mates, whom he imagined were laughing with, and not athim. For the present I shall pass over the rest of the officers, withthe exception of the boatswain, whose character was of a very peculiarnature.
He was a man who had long been considered as one of the best boatswainsin the service, and had been applied for by Captain M---. He used hiscane with severity, but had always some jest at hand to soften down thesmart of the blow, and was very active in his own person, setting anexample to the men. It had, however, happened, that about a year beforehe joined, Mr Hardsett had been induced by his wife to go with her to aconventicle, which the rising sect of methodists had established at theport where she resided; and whether it was that his former life smotehis conscience, or that the preacher was unusually powerful, he soonbecame one of the most zealous of his converts. He read nothing but hisBible, which employed all his leisure hours, and he was continuallyquoting it in his conversation. But he was not exactly a methodist,taking the cognomen in the worst or the best interpretation: he was anenthusiast and a fanatic--notwithstanding which, he contrived that hisduty towards his Maker should not interfere with that of boatswain ofthe ship. Captain M--- regretted the man's bigotry: but as he nevertried to make any converts, and did his duty in his situation, thecaptain did not attempt to interfere with his religious opinions, themore so, as he was convinced that Hardsett was sincere.
The _Aspasia_ was but a short time in harbour, for the captain wasanxious to add to the laurels which he had already won: and havingreported the ship ready for sea, received an order to proceed to theWest India station. The frigate was unmoored, the blue-peter hoisted,and the fore-topsail loosened as the signal for departure: and afterlying a short time with her anchor "short stay apeak," Captain M--- cameon board, the anchor was run up to the bows, and once more the frigatestarted, like an armed knight in search of battle and adventure.
It was two o'clock in the afternoon, and the tenants of the gun-room hadassembled to their repast. "Now all my misery is about to commence,"cried Courtenay, as he took his seat at the gun-room table, on which thedinner was smoking in all the variety of pea-soup, Irish stew, andboiled mutton with caper sauce.
"Indeed!" said the master. "Pray, then, what is it that you have beengrumbling about, ever since you have joined the ship?"
"Psha! they were only petty vexations, but now we are at sea. I shallbe sea-sick. I am always obliged to throw off the accumulation of bilewhenever I go out of harbour."
"I say, doctor," replied Pearce, "can you stop up the leak in thatlittle gentleman's liver? He's not content to keep a hand-pump going toget rid of his bile when in harbour, but it seems that he requires thechain-pumps to be manned when he goes to sea."
"Chain-pumps!" exclaimed Courtenay, shuddering, and drawing back hishead with a grimace at the idea of such a forcible discharge, and thenlooking round at his messmates with one of his serio-comic faces.
"Pumps! ay," said Price; "you remember Shakespeare in the `Tempest'--hesays--dear me,--I--"
"Come, Price," said Courtenay, "don't make me sick before my time,--it'sunkind. You don't know what an analogy there is between spouting andsea-sickness. In both cases you throw up what is nauseous, because yourhead or you stomach is too weak to retain it. Spare me, then, aquotation, my dear fellow, till you see me in the agony of Nature`aback,' and then one will be of service in assisting her efforts to`box off.' I say, Billy Pitt, did you stow away the two jars of pickledcabbage in my cabin?"
We must here break off the conversation to introduce this personage tothe reader. He was a black, who ran away, when quite a lad, from hismaster at Barbadoes, and entered on board of a man-of-war. Macallan,the surgeon, had taken a fancy to him, and he had been his servant forsome years, following him into different ships. He was a veryintelligent and singular character. Macallan had taught him to read andwrite, and he was not a little proud of his acquirements. He wasexcessively good-humoured, and a general favourite of the officers andship's company, who used to amuse themselves with his peculiarities, andallow him a greater freedom than usual. But Billy's grand _forte_, inhis own opinion, was a lexicographer. He had a small Entick'sdictionary, which he always carried in his jacket-pocket, and nothinggave him so much pleasure as any one referring to him for the meaning ofa hard word, which, although he could not always explain correctly, hecertainly did most readily. Moreover, he was, as may be supposed, veryfond of interlarding his conversation with high-sounding phraseology,without much regard as to the context.
Although Billy Pitt was the doctor's servant, Courtenay, who had taken agreat fancy to him, used to employ him as his own, to which, as thedoctor was not a man who required much attendance himself, and was verygood-natured, no objection had been raised.
We must repeat the question--
"I say, Billy Pitt, did you stow away the two jars of pickled cabbage inmy cabin?"
"No, sar, I no hab'em to stow. Woman say, that Mr Kartney not pay forthe pickled onun--say quite incongrous send any more."
"Not pay for the onions! No, to be sure I didn't; but I gave her afresh order, which is the same thing." (Price laid down the potatowhich he was in the act of peeling, and stared at Courtenay withastonishment.) "Well, to a London tradesman, it is, I can assure you."
"It may be, but I cannot conceive how. If you owe me ten shillings, Ican't consider borrowing ten more the same thing as paying the first."
"Pooh! you do not understand these things."
"I do not, most certainly," replied the master, resuming his potato.
"And so you haven't got them?" resumed Courtenay to the servant.
"No, sar. She say Massa Kartney owe nine shillings for onuns, and say Iowe farteen for 'baccy, and not trust us any more. I tell just as shesay, sir. Gentleman never pay for anything. She call me damned nigger,and say, like massa like man. I tell her not give any more_rhoromantade_, and walk out of shop."
"Well, how cursed annoying! Now, I never set my mind upon anything butI'm disappointed. One might as well be Sancho in the Isle of Barataria.I think I'll go up to the captain, and ask him to heave-to, while Isend fo
r them. Do you think he would, master, eh?" said Courtenay, inaffected simplicity of interrogation.
"You had better try him," replied Pearce, laughing.
"Well, it would be very considerate of him, and pickled cabbage is theonly thing that cures my sea-sickness."--(Perceiving Price about tospeak)--"Stop now--it's no use--there's not a word about pickled cabbagein Shakespeare."
"I did not say that there was," retorted Price; "but there's `beefwithout mustard,' and that will be your case now."
"And there's `Write me down an ass,'" replied Courtenay, who was not alittle vexed at the loss of his favourite condiment.
"Did you hear what Courtenay said of you, O'Keefe?" continued Price,turning to the purser.
"Yes--yes--I know--hand him over a glass; but this is not a clane one.Steward, will you bring a clane wine-glass?"
The rest laughed, while Courtenay proceeded.
"Why, O'Keefe, you hear better than ever. I say, doctor, you must putme in the sick list--I'm not fit to take charge of a watch."
"If you'll prove that to me," replied Macallan, "I certainly will reportyou."
"Well, I'll prove it to you in five seconds. I'm just in that state,that if everything in the ship was to go overboard to the devil, Ishouldn't care. Now, with such a feeling of indifference, a person isnot fit to be trusted with the charge of a watch."
"That you're not fit to be trusted with the charge of a watch, as youstate it yourself, I shall not deny," replied Macallan; "but I considerthat to be a complaint for which you ought rather to be put _off_ thelist that on it."
"Ha! ha! ha! I say, Courtenay, you know what Shakespeare says, `'Tisthe curse of service,' that--that--"
"All hands, 'bout ship!" now resounded through the ship as it wasrepeated in the variety of basses of the boatswain and his mates, ateither hatchway--one of the youngsters of the watch running down at thesame time to acquaint the officers, in his shrill falsetto, with thatwhich had been roared out loud enough to startle even the deaf purser.The first-lieutenant, followed by the master, brushed by him, and was upthe ladder before his supererogatory communication could be delivered.
"How cursed annoying!" cried Courtenay. "I was just feeling a littlebetter, and now I shall be worse than ever."
"You recollect in the `Tempest,'" said Price, "where Shakespeare says--"
"Forecastle, there!" roared out Captain M---, from the quarter-deck, ina voice that was distinctly heard below.
"By Jove, you'd better skip for it, or you'll have what CaptainM--- says. He's hailing your station," said Courtenay, laughing--apiece of advice immediately acted upon by Price, who was up the ladderand on the forecastle in a few seconds.--"And I must go up too. Howcursed annoying to be stationed in the waist! Nothing to do, except tostop my ears against the infernal stamp-and-go of the marines andafter-guards, over my head; sweet music to a first-lieutenant, but to mediscord most horrible. I could _stamp_ with vexation."
"Had you not better _go_ first and _stamp_ afterwards?" observed thesurgeon, drily.
"I think I had, indeed," replied Courtenay, as he bolted out of thegun-room door.--"Cursed annoying! but the captain's such a bilioussubject."
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