The Penguin Book of the British Short Story, Volume 1

by Philip Hensher

  ‘Well, we are in all 128. All the winds which have northerly in them, are coarse and ugly; all the southern winds are pretty.’

  ‘You don’t say so?’ replied our hero.

  ‘We are summoned to blow, as required, but the hardest duty generally falls to the northerly winds, as it should do, for they are the strongest; although we southerly winds can blow hard enough when we choose. Our characters are somewhat different. The most unhappy in disposition, and I may say, the most malevolent, are the north and easterly winds; the N.W. winds are powerful, but not unkind; the S.E. winds vary, but, at all events, we of the S.W. are considered the mildest and most beneficent. Do you understand me?’

  ‘Not altogether. You’re going right round the compass, and I never could make it out, that’s a fact. I hear what you say, but I cannot promise to recollect it; I can only recollect S. W. and by W. ¾ W.’

  ‘I care only for your recollecting me; if you do that, you may forget all the rest. Now you see we South Wests are summer winds, and are seldom required but in this season; I have often blown over your ship these last three months, and I always have lingered near you, for I loved you.’

  ‘Thank you – now go on, for seven bells have struck sometime, and I shall be going to turn in. Is your watch out?’

  ‘No, I shall blow for some hours longer. Why will you leave me – why wo’n’t you stay on deck with me?’

  ‘What, stay on deck after my watch is out! No, if I do, blow me! We midshipmen never do that – but I say, why can’t you come down with me, and turn in my hammock; it’s close to the hatchway, and you can easily do it.’

  ‘Well, I will, upon one promise. You say that you love me, now I’m very jealous, for we winds are always supplanting one another. Promise me that you will never mention any other wind in the compass but me, for if you do, they may come to you, and if I hear of it I’ll blow the masts out of your ship, that I will.’

  ‘You don’t say so?’ replied Jack, surveying her fragile, trembling form.

  ‘Yes, I will, and on a lee shore too; so that the ship shall go to pieces on the rocks, and the Admiral and every soul on board her be drowned.’

  ‘No, you wouldn’t, would you?’ said our hero, astonished.

  ‘Not if you promise me. Then I’ll come to you and pour down your windsails, and dry your washed clothes as they hang on the rigging, and just ripple the waves as you glide along, and hang upon the lips of my dear love, and press him in my arms. Promise me, then, on no account ever to recollect or mention any other wind but me.’

  ‘Well, I think I may promise that,’ replied Jack, ‘for I’m very clever at forgetting; and then you’ll come to my hammock, wo’n’t you, and sleep with me? you’ll be a nice cool bedfellow these warm nights.’

  ‘I can’t sleep on my watch as midshipmen do; but I’ll watch you while you sleep, and I’ll fan your cheeks, and keep you cool and comfortable, till I’m relieved.’

  ‘And when you go, when will you come again?’

  ‘That I cannot tell – when I’m summoned; and I shall wait with impatience, that you may be sure of.’

  ‘There’s eight bells,’ said Jack, starting up; ‘I must go down and call the officer of the middle watch; but I’ll soon turn in, for my relief is not so big as myself, and I can thrash him.’

  Littlebrain was as good as his word; he cut down his relief, and then thrashed him for venturing to expostulate. The consequence was, that in ten minutes he was in his hammock, and ‘S. W. and by W. ¾ W.’ came gently down the hatchway, and rested in his arms. Jack soon fell fast asleep, and when he was wakened up the next morning by the quarter-master, his bedfellow was no longer there. A mate inquiring how the wind was, was answered by the quarter-master that they had a fresh breeze from the N. N. W., by which Jack understood that his sweetheart was no longer on duty.

  Our hero had passed such a happy night with his soft and kind companion, that he could think of nothing else; he longed for her to come again, and, to the surprise of every body, was now perpetually making inquiries as to the wind which blew. He thought of her continually; and in fact was as much in love with ‘S. W. and by W. ¾ W.’ as he possibly could be. She came again – once more did he enjoy her delightful company; again she slept with him in his hammock, and then, after a short stay, she was relieved by another.

  We do not intend to accuse the wind of inconstancy, as that was not her fault; nor of treachery, for she loved dearly; nor of violence, for she was all softness and mildness; but we do say, that ‘S. W. and by W. ¾ W.’ was the occasion of Jack being very often in a scrape, for our hero kept his word; he forgot all other winds, and, with him, there was no other except his dear ‘S. W. and by W. ¾ W.’ It must be admitted of Jack, that, at all events, he showed great perseverance, for he stuck to his point.

  Our hero would argue with his messmates, for it is not those who are most capable of arguing who are most fond of it; and, like all arguers not very brilliant, he would flounder and diverge away right and left, just as the flaws of ideas came into his head.

  ‘What nonsense it is your talking that way,’ would his opponent say, ‘Why don’t you come to the point?’

  ‘And so I do,’ cried Jack.

  ‘Well then, what is your point?’

  ‘S. W. and by W. ¾ W.,’ replied our hero.

  Who could reply to this? But in every instance, and through every difficulty, our hero kept his promise, until his uncle Sir Theophilus was very undecided, whether he should send him home to be locked up in a Lunatic Asylum, or bring him on in the service to the rank of post-captain. Upon mature consideration, however, as a man in Bedlam is a very useless member of society, and a tee-total non-productive, whereas a captain in the navy is a responsible agent, the Admiral came to the conclusion, that Littlebrain must follow up his destiny.

  At last, Jack was set down as the greatest fool in the ship, and was pointed out as such. The ladies observed, that such might possibly be the case, but at all events he was the handsomest young man in the Mediterranean fleet. We believe that both parties were correct in their assertions.

  Time flies – even a midshipman’s time, which does not fly quite so fast as his money – and the time came for Mr Littlebrain’s examination. Sir Theophilus, who now commanded the whole fleet, was almost in despair. How was it possible that a man could navigate a ship, with only one quarter point of the compass in his head?

  Sir Theophilus scratched his wig; and the disposition of the Mediterranean fleet, so important to the country, was altered according to the dispositions of the captains who commanded the ships. In those days, there were martinets in the service; officers who never overlooked an offence, or permitted the least deviation from strict duty; who were generally hated, but at the same time were most valuable to the service. As for his nephew passing his examination before any of those of the first, or second, or even of the third degree, the Admiral knew that it was impossible. The consequence was, that one was sent away on a mission to Genoa, about nothing; another to watch for vessels never expected, off Sardinia; two more to cruize after a French frigate which had never been built: and thus, by degrees, did the Admiral arrange, so as to obtain a set of officers sufficiently pliant to allow his nephew to creep under the gate which barred his promotion, and which he never could have vaulted over. So the signal was made – our hero went on board – his uncle had not forgotten the propriety of a little douceur on the occasion; and, as the turkeys were all gone, three couple of geese were sent in the same boat, as a present to each of the three passing captains. Littlebrain’s heart failed him as he pulled to the ship; even the geese hissed at him, as much as to say, ‘If you were not such a stupid ass, we might have been left alive in our coops.’ There was a great deal of truth in that remark, if they did say so.

  Nothing could have been made more easy for Littlebrain than his examination. The questions had all been arranged beforehand; and some kind friend had given him all the answers written down. The passing captains appar
ently suffered from the heat of the weather, and each had his hand on his brow, looking down on the table at the time that Littlebrain gave his answers, so that of course they did not observe that he was reading them off. As soon as Littlebrain had given his answer, and had had sufficient time to drop his paper under the table, the captains felt better and looked up again.

  There were but eight questions for our hero to answer. Seven had been satisfactorily got through; then came the eighth, a very simple one: – ‘What is your course and distance from Ushant to the Start?’ This question having been duly put, the captains were again in deep meditation, shrouding their eyes with the palms of their hands.

  Littlebrain had his answer – he looked at the paper. What could be more simple than to reply? – and then the captains would have all risen up, shaken him by the hand, complimented him upon the talent he had displayed, sent their compliments to the commander-in-chief, and their thanks for the geese. Jack was just answering, ‘North—’

  ‘Recollect your promise!’ cried a soft voice, which Jack well recollected.

  Jack stammered – the captains were mute – and waited patiently.

  ‘I must say it,’ muttered Jack.

  ‘You shan’t,’ replied the little Wind.

  ‘Indeed I must,’ said Jack, ‘or I shall be turned back.’

  The captains, surprised at this delay and the muttering of Jack, looked up, and one of them gently inquired if Mr Littlebrain had not dropped his handkerchief or something under the table? and then they again fixed their eyes upon the green cloth.

  ‘If you dare, I’ll never see you again,’ cried ‘S. W. and by W. ¾ W.,’ – ‘never come to your hammock, – but I’ll blow the ship on shore, every soul shall be lost, Admiral and all; recollect your promise!’

  ‘Then I shall never pass,’ replied Jack.

  ‘Do you think that any other point in the compass shall pass you except me? – never! I’m too jealous for that; come now, dearest,’ and the Wind again deliciously trembled upon the lips of our hero, who could no longer resist.

  ‘S. W. and by W. ¾ W.,’ exclaimed Jack firmly.

  ‘You have made a slight mistake, Mr Littlebrain,’ said one of the captains. ‘Look again – I meant to say, think again.’

  ‘S. W. and by W. ¾ W.,’ again repeated Jack.

  ‘Dearest! how I love you!’ whispered the soft Wind.

  ‘Why, Mr Littlebrain,’ said one of the captains, for Jack had actually laid the paper down on the table, ‘what’s in the wind now?’

  ‘She’s obstinate,’ replied Jack.

  ‘You appear to be so, at all events,’ replied the captain. ‘Pray try once more.’

  ‘I have it!’ thought Jack, who tore off the last answer from his paper. ‘I gained five guineas by that plan once before.’ He then handed the bit of paper to the passing captain: ‘I believe that’s right, sir,’ said our hero.

  ‘Yes, that is right; but could you not have said it instead of writing it, Mr Littlebrain?’

  Jack made no reply; his little sweetheart pouted a little, but said nothing; it was an evasion which she did not like. A few seconds of consultation then took place, as a matter of form. Each captain asked of the other if he was perfectly satisfied as to Mr Littlebrain’s capabilities, and the reply was in the affirmative; and they were perfectly satisfied, that he was either a fool or a madman. However, as we have had both in the service by way of precedent, Jack was added to the list, and the next day was appointed lieutenant.

  Our hero did his duty as lieutenant of the forecastle; and as all the duty of that officer is, when hailed from the quarter-deck, to answer ‘Ay, ay, sir,’ he got on without making many mistakes. And now he was very happy; no one dared to call him a fool except his uncle; he had his own cabin, and many was the time that his dear little ‘S. W. and by W. ¾ W.’ would come in by the scuttle, and nestle by his side.

  ‘You wo’n’t see so much of me soon, dearest,’ said she, one morning, gravely.

  ‘Why not, my soft one?’ replied Jack.

  ‘Don’t you recollect that the winter months are coming on?’

  ‘So they are,’ replied Jack. ‘Well, I shall long for you back.’

  And Jack did long, and long very much, for he loved his dear wind, and the fine weather which accompanied her. Winter came on, and heavy gales and rain, and thunder and lightning; nothing but double-reefed top-sails, and wearing in succession; and our hero walked the forecastle, and thought of his favourite wind. The N.E. winds came down furiously, and the weather was bitter cold. The officers shook the rain and spray off their garments when their watch was over, and called for grog.

  ‘Steward, a glass of grog,’ cried one, ‘and let it be strong.’

  ‘The same for me,’ said Jack; ‘only I’ll mix it myself.’

  Jack poured out the rum till the tumbler was half full.

  ‘Why, Littlebrain,’ said his messmate, ‘that is a dose, that’s what we call a regular Nor-wester.’

  ‘Is it?’ replied Jack. ‘Well then, Nor-westers suit me exactly, and I shall stick to them like coblers’ wax.’

  And during the whole of the winter months our hero showed a great predilection for Nor-westers.

  It was in the latter end of February that there was a heavy gale; it had blown furiously from the northward for three days, and then it paused and panted as if out of breath – no wonder; and then the wind shifted, and shifted again, with squalls and heavy rain, until it blew from every quarter of the compass.

  Our hero’s watch was over, and he came down and called for a ‘Nor-wester’ as usual.

  ‘How is the wind, now?’ asked the first lieutenant to the master, who came down dripping wet.

  ‘S. S. W., but drawing now fast to the Westward,’ said old Spunyarn.

  And so it was; and it veered round until ‘S. W. and by W. ¾ W.,’ with an angry gust, came down the sky-light, and blowing strongly into our hero’s ear, cried, –

  ‘Oh! you false one!!’

  ‘False!’ exclaimed Jack. ‘What! you here, and so angry too? – what’s the matter?’

  ‘What’s the matter! – do you think I don’t know? What have you been doing ever since I was away, comforting yourself during my absence with Nor-westers?’

  ‘Why, you an’t jealous of a Nor-wester, are you?’ replied Littlebrain. ‘I confess, I’m rather partial to them.’

  ‘What! – this to my face! – I’ll never come again, – without you promise me that you will have nothing to do with them, and never call for one again. Be quick – I cannot stay more than two minutes, for it is hard work now, and we relieve quick – say the word.’

  ‘Well, then,’ replied Littlebrain, ‘you’ve no objection to half-and-half?’

  ‘None in the world; that’s quite another thing, and has nothing to do with the wind.’

  ‘It has, though,’ thought Jack, ‘for it gets a man in the wind; but I wo’n’t tell her so; and,’ continued he, ‘you don’t mind a raw nip do you?’

  ‘No – I care for nothing except a Nor-wester.’

  ‘I’ll never call for one again,’ replied Jack; ‘it is but making my grog a little stronger; in future it shall be half-and-half.’

  ‘That’s a dear! – now I’m off, don’t forget me;’ and away went the wind in a great hurry.

  It was about three months after this short visit, the fleet being off Corsica, that our hero was walking the deck, thinking that he soon should see the object of his affections, when a privateer brig was discovered at anchor a few miles from Bastia. The signal was made for the boats of the fleet to cut her out, and the Admiral, wishing that his nephew should distinguish himself somehow, gave him the command of one of the finest boats. Now Jack was as brave as brave could be; he did not know what danger was; he hadn’t wit enough to perceive it, and there was no doubt but he would distinguish himself. The boats went on the service. Jack was the very first on board, cheering his men as he darted into the closed ranks of his opponents. Whether it w
as that he did not think that his head was worth defending, or that he was too busy in breaking the heads of others to look after his own; this is certain, that a tomahawk descended upon it with such force as to bury itself in his skull (and his was a thick skull, too). The privateer’s men were overpowered by numbers, and then our hero was discovered, under a pile of bodies, still breathing heavily. He was hoisted on board, and taken into his uncle’s cabin: the surgeon shook his head when he had examined that of our hero.

  ‘It must have been a most tremendous blow,’ said he to the Admiral, ‘to have penetrated—’

  ‘It must have been, indeed,’ replied the Admiral, as the tears rolled down his cheeks; for he loved his nephew.

  The surgeon having done all that his art would enable him, left the cabin to attend to the others who were hurt; the Admiral also went on the quarter-deck, walking to and fro for an hour in a melancholy mood. He returned to the cabin, and bent over his nephew; Jack opened his eyes.

  ‘My dear fellow,’ said the Admiral, ‘how’s your head now?’

  ‘S. W. and by W. ¾ W.,’ faintly exclaimed our hero, constant in death, as he turned a little on one side and expired.

  It was three days afterwards, as the fleet were on a wind, making for Malta, that the bell of the ship tolled, and a body, sewed up in a hammock and covered with the Union Jack, was carried to the gangway by the Admiral’s bargemen. It had been a dull cloudy day, with little wind; the hands were turned up, the officers and men stood uncovered; the Admiral in advance with his arms folded, as the chaplain read the funeral service over the body of our hero, – and as the service proceeded, the sails flapped, for the wind had shifted a little; a motion was made, by the hand of the officer of the watch, to the man at the helm to let the ship go off the wind, that the service might not be disturbed, and a mizzling soft rain descended. The wind had shifted to our hero’s much loved point, his fond mistress had come to mourn over the loss of her dearest, and the rain that descended were the tears which she shed at the death of her handsome but not over-gifted lover.