Mr Midshipman Easy

by Captain Frederick Marryat

  “But, allowing all that, Jack,” replied Mr Easy, “and I will say you argue well in a bad cause, why should the inequality be carried so far—king and lords, for instance?”

  “The most lasting and imperishable form of building is that of the pyramid, which defies ages, and to that may the most perfect form of society be compared. It is based upon the many, and rising by degrees, it becomes less as wealth, talent, and rank increase in the individual, until it ends at the apex or monarch, above all. Yet each several stone from the apex to the base is necessary for the preservation of the structure, and fulfils its duty in its allotted place. Could you prove that those at the summit possess the greatest share of happiness in this world, then, indeed, you have a position to argue on; but it is well known that such is not the case; and provided he is of a contented mind, the peasant is more happy than the king, surrounded as the latter is by cares and anxiety.”

  “Very well argued, indeed, my dear sir,” observed Dr Middleton.

  “But, my dear boy, there are other states of society than monarchy; we have republics and despotisms.”

  “We have, but how long do they last compared to the first? There is a cycle in the changes which never varies. A monarchy may be overthrown by a revolution, and republicanism succeed, but that is shortly followed by despotism, till, after a time, monarchy succeeds again by unanimous consent, as the most legitimate and equitable form of government; but in none of these do you find a single advance to equality. In a republic, those who govern are more powerful than the rulers in a restricted monarchy—a president is greater than a king, and next to a despot, whose will is law. Even in small societies you find, that some will naturally take the lead and assume domination. We commence the system at school, when we are first thrown into society, and there we are taught systems of petty tyranny. There are some few points in which we obtain equality in this world, and that equality can only be obtained under a well-regulated form of society, and consists in an equal administration of justice and of laws, to which we have agreed to submit for the benefit of the whole—the equal right to live and not be permitted to starve, which has been obtained in this country. And when we are called to account, we shall have equal justice. Now my dear father, you have my opinion.”

  “Yes, my dear, this is all very well in the abstract; but how does it work?”

  “It works well. The luxury, the pampered state, the idleness—if you please, the wickedness—of the rich, all contribute to the support, the comfort, and employment of the poor. You may behold extravagance—it is a vice; but that very extravagance circulates money, and the vice of one contributes to the happiness of many. The only vice which is not redeemed by producing commensurate good, is avarice. If all were equal, there would be no arts, no manufactures, no industry, no employment. As it is, the inequality of the distribution of wealth may be compared to the heart, pouring forth the blood like a steam-engine through the human frame, the same blood returning from the extremities by the veins, to be again propelled, and keep up a healthy and vigorous circulation.”

  “Bravo, Jack!” said Dr Middleton. “Have you anything to reply, sir?” continued he, addressing Mr Easy.

  “To reply, sir?” replied Mr Easy, with scorn; “why, he has not given me half an argument yet: why that black servant even laughs at him—look at him there showing his teeth. Can he forget the horrors of slavery? can he forget the base unfeeling lash? No, sir, he has suffered and he can estimate the divine right of equality. Ask him now, ask him, if you dare, Jack, whether he will admit the truth of your argument.”

  “Well, I’ll ask him,” replied Jack, “and I tell you candidly that he was once one of your disciples. Mesty, what’s your opinion of equality?”

  “Equality, Massa Easy?” replied Mesty, pulling up his cravat; “I say d——n equality, now I major-domo.”

  “The rascal deserves to be a slave all his life.”

  “True, I ab been slave—but I a prince in my own country. Massa Easy tell how many skulls I have.”

  “Skulls—skulls—do you know anything of the sublime science? Are you a phrenologist?”

  “I know man’s skull very well in Ashantee country, anyhow.”

  “Then if you know that, you must be one. I had no idea that the science had extended so far—maybe it was brought from thence. I will have some talk with you to-morrow. This is very curious. Dr Middleton, is it not?”

  “Very, indeed, Mr Easy.”

  “I shall feel his head to-morrow after breakfast, and if there is anything wrong, I shall correct it with my machine. By-the-bye, I have quite forgot, gentlemen; you will excuse me, but I wish to see what the carpenter has done for me, and after that I shall attend the meeting of the society. Jack, my boy, won’t you come and hear my speech?”

  “Thank you, sir, but I cannot well leave your friends.”

  Mr Easy quitted the room.

  “Are you aware, my dear sir, that your father has opened his preserves to all the poachers?” said Mr Hanson.

  “The devil he has!”

  “Yes, he has allowed several gangs of gipsies to locate themselves in his woods much to the annoyance of the neighbourhood, who suffer from their depredations,” continued Dr Middleton.

  “I find, by the receipts and books, that there is nearly two years’ rental of the estate due; some tenants have paid up in full, others not for four years. I reckon fourteen thousand pounds still in arrear.”

  “You will oblige me by taking immediate steps, Mr Hanson, for the recovery of the sums due.”

  “Most certainly, Mr John. I trust your father will not commit himself to-night as he has done lately.”

  When they rose to retire, Dr Middleton took our hero by the hand. “You do not know, my dear fellow, what pleasure it gives me to find that, in spite of the doting of your mother and the madness of your father, you have turned out so well. It is very fortunate that you have come home; I trust you will now give up the profession.”

  “I have given it up, sir; which, by-the-bye, reminds me that I have not applied for either my discharge or that of my servant; but I cannot spare time yet, so I shall not report myself.”

  CHAPTER XXXVII

  In which our hero finds himself an orphan, and resolves to go to sea again, without the smallest idea of equality.

  THE NEXT morning, when they met at breakfast, Mr Easy did not make his appearance, and Jack inquired of Mesty where he was.

  “They say down below that the old gentleman not come home last night.”

  “Did not come home!” said Dr Middleton; “this must be looked to.”

  “He great rascal, dat butler man,” said Mesty to Jack; “but de old gentleman not sleep in his bed, dat for sure.”

  “Make inquiries when he went out,” said Jack.

  “I hope no accident has happened,” observed Mr Hanson; “but his company has lately been very strange.”

  “Nobody see him go out, sar, last night,” reported Mesty.

  “Very likely he is in his study,” observed Dr Middleton; “he may have remained all night, fast asleep, by his wonderful invention.”

  “I’ll go and see,” replied Jack.

  Dr Middleton accompanied him, and Mesty followed They opened the door, and beheld a spectacle which made them recoil with horror. There was Mr Easy, with his head in the machine, the platform below fallen from under him, hanging, with his toes just touching the ground. Dr Middleton hastened to him, and, assisted by Mesty and our hero, took him out of the steel collar which was round his neck: but life had been extinct for many hours, and, on examination, it was found that the poor old gentleman’s neck was dislocated.

  It was surmised that the accident must have taken place the evening before, and it was easy to account for it. Mr Easy, who had had the machine raised four feet higher, for the platform and steps to be placed underneath, must have mounted on the frame modelled by the carpenter for his work, and have fixed his head in, for the knob was pressed on his bump of benevolence. The fr
amework, hastily put together with a few short nails, had given way with his weight, and the sudden fall had dislocated his neck.

  Mr Hanson led away our hero, who was much shocked at this unfortunate and tragical end of his poor father, while Dr Middleton ordered the body to be taken up into a bedroom, and immediately despatched a messenger to the coroner of the county. Poor Mr Easy had told his son but the day before, that he felt convinced that this wonderful invention would immortalise him, and so it had, although not exactly in the sense that he anticipated.

  We must pass over the few days of sorrow, and closed shutters, which always are given to these scenes. The coroner’s inquest and the funeral over, daylight was again admitted, our hero’s spirits revived, and he found himself in possession of a splendid property, and his own master.

  He was not of age, it is true, for he wanted nine months; but on opening the will of his father, he found that Dr Middleton was his sole guardian. Mr Hanson, on examining and collecting the papers, which were in the greatest confusion, discovered bank-notes in different corners, and huddled up with bills and receipts, to the amount of two thousand pounds, and further, a cheque signed by Captain Wilson on his banker, for the thousand pounds advanced by Mr Easy, dated more than fifteen months back.

  Dr Middleton wrote to the Admiralty, informing them that family affairs necessitated Mr John Easy, who had been left at sick quarters, to leave his Majesty’s service, requesting his discharge from it forthwith. The Admiralty were graciously pleased to grant the request, and lose the services of a midshipman. The Admiralty were also pleased to grant the discharge of Mesty, on the sum required for a substitute being paid in.

  The gipsies were routed out of their abodes, and sent once more to wander. The gamekeepers were restored, the preserves cleared of all poachers, and the gentry of the country were not a little pleased at Jack’s succession, for they had wished that Mr Easy’s neck had been broken long ago. The societies were dissolved, since, now that Mr Easy no longer paid for the beer, there was nothing to meet for. Cards and compliments were sent from all parts of the county, and every one was anxious that our hero should come of age, as then he would be able to marry, to give dinners, subscribe to the foxhounds, and live as a gentleman ought to do.

  But during all these speculations, Jack had made Dr Middleton acquainted with the history of his amour with Agnes de Rebiera, and all particulars connected therewith, also with his determination to go out to bring her home as his wife. Dr Middleton saw no objection to the match, and he perceived that our hero was sincere. And Jack had made inquiries when the packet would sail for Malta when Mesty, who stood behind his chair, observed,—

  “Packet bad vessel, Massa Easy. Why not go out in man-of-war?”

  “Very true,” replied Jack; “but you know, Mesty, that is not so easy.”

  “And den how come home, sar? Suppose you and Missy Agnes taken prisoner—put in prison?”

  “Very true,” replied Jack; “and as for a passage home in a man-of-war, that will be more difficult still.”

  “Den I tink, sar, suppose you buy one fine vessel—plenty of guns— take out letter of marque—plenty of men, and bring Missy Agnes home like a lady. You captain of your own ship.”

  “That deserves consideration, Mesty,” replied Jack, who thought of it during that night: and the next day resolved to follow Mesty’s advice. The Portsmouth paper lay on the breakfast-table. Jack took it up, and his eye was caught by an advertisement for the sale of the Joan d’Arc, prize to H.M. ship Thetis, brigantine of 278 tons, copper-bottomed, armed, ‘en flute,’ with all her stores, spars, sails, running and standing rigging, then lying in the harbour of Portsmouth, to take place on the following Wednesday.

  Jack rang the bell, and ordered post-horses.

  “Where are you going, my dear boy?” inquired Dr Middleton.

  “To Portsmouth, Doctor.”

  “And pray what for, if not an impertinent question?”

  Jack then gave Dr Middleton an insight into his plan, and requested that he would allow him to do so, as there was plenty of ready money.

  “But the expense will be enormous.”

  “It will be heavy, sir, I grant; but I have calculated it pretty nearly, and I shall not spend at the rate of more than my income. Besides, as letter of marque, I shall have the right of capture; in fact, I mean to take out a privateer’s regular licence.”

  “But not to remain there and cruise?”

  “No, upon my honour, I am too anxious to get home again. You must not refuse me, my dear guardian.”

  “As a lady is in the case, I will not, my dear boy; but be careful what you are about.”

  “Never fear, sir, I will be back in four months, at the farthest; but I must now set off and ascertain if the vessel answers the description given in the advertisement.”

  Jack threw himself into the chariot. Mesty mounted into the rumble, and in two hours they were at Portsmouth; went to the agent, viewed the vessel, which proved to be a very fine fast-sailing craft, well found, with six brass carronades on each side. The cabins were handsome, fitted up with bird’s-eye maple, and gilt mouldings.

  This will do, thought Jack: a couple of long brass nines, forty men and six boys, and she will be just the thing we require. So Mesty and Jack went on shore again, and returned to Forest Hill to dinner, when he desired Mr Hanson to set off for Portsmouth, and bid at the sale for the vessel, as he wished to purchase her. This was Monday, and on Wednesday Mr Hanson purchased her, as she stood, for £1750, which was considered about half her value.

  Dr Middleton had, in the meantime, been thinking very seriously of Jack’s project. He could see no objection to it, provided that he was steady and prudent, but in both these qualities Jack had not exactly been tried. He therefore determined to look out for some steady naval lieutenant, and make it a sine quâ non that our hero should be accompanied by him, and that he should go out as sailing-master. Now that the vessel was purchased, he informed Jack of his wish; indeed, as Dr Middleton observed, his duty as guardian demanded this precaution, and our hero, who felt very grateful to Dr Middleton, immediately acquiesced.

  “And, by-the-bye, Doctor, see that he is a good navigator; for although I can fudge a day’s work pretty well, latterly I have been out of practice.”

  Everyone was now busy: Jack and Mesty at Portsmouth, fitting out the vessel, and offering three guineas ahead to the crimps for every good able seaman—Mr Hanson obtaining the English register, and the letters of licence, and Dr Middleton in search of a good naval dry-nurse. Jack found time to write to Don Philip and Agnes, apprising them of the death of his father, and his intentions.

  In about six weeks all was ready, and the brigantine, which had taken out her British register and licence under the name of the Rebiera, went out of harbour, and anchored at Spithead. Dr Middleton had procured, as he thought, a very fit person to sail with Jack, and our hero and Mesty embarked, wishing the Doctor and Solicitor good-bye, and leaving them nothing to do but to pay the bills.

  The person selected by Dr Middleton, by the advice of an old friend of his, a purser in the navy, who lived at Southsea, was a Lieutenant Oxbelly, who, with the ship’s company, which had been collected, received our hero as their captain and owner upon his arrival on board. There certainly was no small contrast between our hero’s active slight figure and handsome person, set off with a blue coat, something like the present yachtclub uniform, and that of his second in command, who waddled to the side to receive him. He was a very short man, with an uncommon protuberance of stomach, with shoulders and arms too short for his body, and hands much too large, more like the paws of a Polar bear than anything else. He wore trousers, shoes, and buckles. On his head was a foraging cap, which, when he took it off, showed that he was quite bald. His age might be about fifty-five or sixty; his complexion florid, no whiskers, and little beard, nose straight, lips thin, teeth black with chewing, and always a little brown dribble from the left corner of his mouth (there was a leak
there, he said). Altogether his countenance was prepossessing, for it was honest and manly, but his waist was preposterous.

  “Steady enough,” thought Jack, as he returned Mr Oxbelly’s salute.

  “How do you do, sir?” said Jack; “I trust we shall be good shipmates,” for Jack had not seen him before.

  “Mr Easy,” replied the lieutenant, “I never quarrel with anyone, except (I won’t tell a story) with my wife.”

  “I am sorry that you have ever domestic dissensions, Mr Oxbelly.”

  “And I only quarrel with her at night, sir. She will take up more than her share of the bed, and won’t allow me to sleep single; but never mind that, sir; now will you please to muster the men?”

  “If you please, Mr Oxbelly.”

  The men were mustered, and Jack made them a long speech upon subordination, discipline, activity, duty, and so forth.

  “A very good speech, Mr Easy,” said Mr Oxbelly, as the men went forward; “I wish my wife had heard it. But, sir, if you please, we’ll now get under way as fast as we can, for there is a Channel cruiser working up at St Helen’s, and we may give him the go-by by running through the Needles.”

  “But what need we care for the Channel cruiser?”

  “You forget, sir, that as soon as she drops her anchor she will come on board and take a fancy to at least ten of our men.”

  “But they are protected.”

  “Yes, sir, but that’s no protection, now-a-days. I have sailed in a privateer at least three years, and I know that they have no respect for letters of marque or for privateers.”