Mr Midshipman Easy

by Captain Frederick Marryat

  “I believe you are right, Mr Oxbelly; so, if you please, we will up with the anchor at once.”

  The crew of the Rebiera had been well chosen; they were prime men-of-war’s men, most of whom had deserted from the various ships on the station, and, of course, were most anxious to be off. In a few minutes the Rebiera was under way with all sail set below and aloft. She was in excellent trim and flew through the water; the wind was fair, and by night they had passed Portland Lights, and the next morning were steering a course for the Bay of Biscay without having encountered what they feared more than an enemy,—a British cruiser to overhaul them.

  “I think we shall do now, sir,” observed Mr Oxbelly to our hero; “we have made a famous run. It’s twelve o’clock, and if you please I’ll work the latitude, and let you know what it is. We must shape our course so as not to run in with the Brest squadron. A little more westing, sir. I’ll be up in one minute. My wife—but I’ll tell you about that when I come up.”

  “Latitude 41° 12´, sir. I was about to say that my wife, when she was on board of the privateer that I commanded—”

  “Board of the privateer, Mr Oxbelly?”

  “Yes, sir, would go; told her it was impossible, but she wouldn’t listen to reason—came on board, flopped herself into the standing bed-place, and said that there she was for the cruise,—little Billy with her—”

  “What! your child, too?”

  “Yes, two years old—fine boy—always laughed when the guns were fired, while his mother stood on the ladder and held him on the top of the booby-hatch.”

  “I wonder that Mrs Oxbelly let you come here now?”

  “So you would, sir, but I’ll explain that—she thinks I’m in London about my half-pay. She knows all by this time, and frets, I don’t doubt; but that will make her thin, and then there will be more room in the bed. Mrs Oxbelly is a very stout woman.”

  “Why, you are not a little man!”

  “No, not little—tending to be lusty, as the saying is—that is, in good condition. It’s very strange that Mrs Oxbelly has an idea that she is not large. I cannot persuade her to it. That’s the reason we always spar in bed. She says it is I, and I know that it is she who takes the largest share of it.”

  “Perhaps you may both be right.”

  “No, no; it is she who creates all the disturbance. If I get nearer to the wall she jams me up till I am as thin as a thread-paper. If I put her inside and stay outside, she cuts me out as you do a cask, by the chime, till I tumble out of bed.”

  “Why don’t you make your bed larger, Mr Oxbelly?”

  “Sir, I have proposed it, but my wife will have it that the bed is large enough if I would not toss in my sleep. I can’t convince her. However, she’ll have it all to herself now. I slept well last night, for the first time since I left the Boadicea.”

  “The Boadicea?“

  “Yes, sir, I was second lieutenant of the Boadicea for three years.”

  “She’s a fine frigate, I’m told.”

  “On the contrary, such a pinched-up little craft below I never saw. Why, Mr Easy, I could hardly get into the door of my cabin—and yet, as you must see, I’m not a large man.”

  “Good heavens! is it possible,” thought Jack, “that this man does not really know that he is monstrous?”

  Yet such was the case. Mr Oxbelly had no idea that he was otherwise than in good condition, although he had probably not seen his knees for years. It was his obesity that was the great objection to him, for in every other point there was nothing against him. He had, upon one pretence and another, been shifted, by the manœuvres of the captains, out of different ships, until he went up to the Admiralty to know if there was any charge against him. The first lord at once perceived the charge to be preferred, and made a mark against his name as not fit for anything but harbour duty. Out of employment, he had taken the command of a privateer cutter, when his wife, who was excessively fond, would, as he said, follow him with little Billy. He was sober, steady, knew his duty well; but he weighed twenty-six stone, and his weight had swamped him in the service.

  His wish, long indulged, had become, as Shakespeare says, the father of his thought, and he had really at last brought himself to think that he was not by any means what could be considered a fat man. His wife, as he said, was also a very stout woman, and this exuberance of flesh on both sides, was the only, but continual, ground of dispute.

  CHAPTER XXXVIII

  In which our hero, as usual, gets into the very middle of it.

  ON THE eleventh day the Rebiera entered the straits, and the rock of Gibraltar was in sight as the sun went down; after which the wind fell light, and about midnight it became calm, and they drifted up. At sunrise they were roused by the report of heavy guns, and perceived an English frigate about eight miles further up the straits, and more in the mid-channel, engaging nine or ten Spanish gun-boats, which had come out from Algesiras to attack her. It still continued a dead calm, and the boats of the frigate were all ahead towing her, so as to bring her broadside to bear upon the Spanish flotilla. The reverberating of the heavy cannon on both sides over the placid surface of the water—the white smoke ascending as the sun rose in brilliancy in a clear blue sky—the distant echoes repeated from the high hills— had a very beautiful effect for those who are partial to the picturesque. But Jack thought it advisable to prepare for action instead of watching for tints—and, in a short time, all was ready.

  “They’ll not come to us, Mr Easy, as long as they have the frigate to hammer at; but still we had better be prepared, for we cannot well pass them without having a few shot. When I came up the straits in the privateer we were attacked by two and fought them for three hours; their shot dashed the water over our decks till they were wet fore and aft, but somehow or another they never hit us—we were as low as they were. I’ll be bound but they’ll hull the frigate though. Mrs Oxbelly and Billy were on deck the whole time—and Billy was quite delighted, and cried when they took him down to breakfast.”

  “Why, Mrs Oxbelly must be very courageous.”

  “Cares neither for shot nor shell, sir—laughs when they whiz over her head, and tells Billy to hark. But, sir, it’s not surprising; her father is a major, and her two brothers are lieutenants in the bombardiers.”

  “That, indeed,” replied Jack—“but, see, there is a breeze springing up from the westward.”

  “Very true, Mr Easy, and a steady one it will be, for it comes up dark and slow; so much the better for the frigate, for she’ll get little honour and plenty of mauling at this work.”

  “I hope we shall take it up with us,” observed Jack; “how far do you reckon the gunboats from the shore?”

  “I should think about five miles, or rather less.”

  “Trim sails, Mr Oxbelly—perhaps we may cut one or two of these off— steer in-shore of them.”

  “Exactly. Up there, my lads, set top-gallant studding sails, top-mast studdings to hand—rig out the booms—keep as you go now, my lad— we shall be well in-shore of them, and out of the range of the batteries.”

  The breeze came down fresh, and all sail was set upon the Rebiera. She took the wind down with her, and it passed her but little—half a mile ahead of them all was still and smooth as a glass mirror, and they neared and gained in-shore at the same time. The gunboats were still engaging the frigate, and did not appear to pay any attention to the Rebiera coming down. At last the breeze reached them and the frigate, light at first and then gradually increasing, while the Rebiera foamed through the water, and had now every chance of cutting off some of the gun-boats. The frigate trimmed her sails and steered towards the flotilla, which now thought proper to haul off and put their heads in-shore, followed by the frigate firing her bow-chasers. But the Rebiera was now within half gunshot in-shore, and steering so as to intercept them. As she rapidly closed, the flotilla scarcely knew how to act; to attack her would be to lose time, and allow the frigate to come up and occasion their own capture; so they satisfied thems
elves with firing at her as she continued to run down between them and the land. As they neared, Jack opened his fire with his eighteen-pound carronades and long nines. The gun-boats returned his fire, and they were within a quarter of a mile, when Jack shortened sail to his top-sails, and a warm engagement took place, which ended in one of the gun-boats being, in a few minutes, dismasted. The frigate, under all canvas, came rapidly up, and her shot now fell thick. The flotilla then ceased firing, passing about two cables’ length ahead of the Rebiera, and making all possible sail for the land. Jack now fired at the flotilla as they passed, with his larboard broadside, while with his starboard he poured in grape and canister upon the unfortunate gun-boat which was dismasted, and which soon hauled down her colours. In a few minutes more the remainder were too far distant for the carronades, and, as they did not fire, Jack turned his attention to take possession of his prize, sending a boat with ten men on board, and heaving-to close to her to take her in tow. Ten minutes more and the frigate was also hove-to a cable’s length from the Rebiera, and our hero lowered down his other quarter-boat to go on board.

  “Have we any men hurt, Mr Oxbelly?” inquired Jack.

  “Only two; Spearling has lost his thumb with a piece of langrage, and James has a bad wound in the thigh.”

  “Very well; I will ask for the surgeon to come on board.”

  Jack pulled to the frigate, and went up the side, touched his hat in due form, and was introduced by the midshipmen to the other side, where the captain stood.

  “Mr Easy!” exclaimed the captain.

  “Captain Sawbridge!” replied our hero, with surprise.

  “Good heavens! what brought you here?” said the captain; “and what vessel is that?”

  “The Rebiera, letter of marque, commanded and owned by Mr Easy,” replied Jack, laughing.

  Captain Sawbridge gave him his hand. “Come down with me into the cabin, Mr Easy; I am very glad to see you. Give you great credit for your conduct, and am still more anxious to know what has induced you to come out again. I knew that you had left the service.”

  Jack, in a very few words, told his object in fitting out the Rebiera; “but,” continued Jack, “allow me to congratulate you upon your promotion, which I was not aware of. May I ask where you left the Harpy, and what is the name of your frigate?”

  “The Latona. I have only been appointed to her one month, after an action in which the Harpy took a large corvette, and am ordered home with despatches to England. We sailed yesterday evening from Gibraltar, were becalmed the whole night, and attacked this morning by the gunboats.”

  “How is Captain Wilson, sir?”

  “I believe he is very well, but I have not seen him.”

  “How did you know, then, that I had left the service, Captain Sawbridge?”

  “From Mr Gascoigne, who is now on board.”

  “Gascoigne!” exclaimed our hero.

  “Yes, he was sent up to join the Aurora by the governor, but she had left the fleet, and having served his time, and a passing day being ordered, he passed, and thought he might as well go home with me and see if he could make any interest for his promotion.”

  “Pray, Captain Sawbridge, is the gun-boat our prize or yours?”

  “It ought to be wholly yours; but the fact is, by the regulations, we share.”

  “With all my heart, sir. Will you send an assistant-surgeon on board to look after two of my men who are hurt?”

  “Yes, directly; now send your boat away, Easy, with directions to your officer in command. We must go back to Gibraltar, for we have received some injury: and, I am sorry to say, lost some men. You are going then, I presume, to stay on board and dine with me: we shall be at anchor before night.”

  “I will with pleasure, sir. But now I will send my boat away and shake hands with Gascoigne.”

  Gascoigne was under the half-deck waiting to receive his friend, for he had seen him come up the side from his station on the forecastle. A hurried conversation took place, after our hero had dismissed his boat with the assistant-surgeon in it to dress the two wounded men. Jack then went on deck, talked with the officers, looked with pleasure at the Rebiera with the gun-boat in tow, keeping company with the frigate, although only under the same canvas—promised Gascoigne to spend the next day with him either on shore or on board the Rebiera, and then returned to the cabin, where he had a long conference with Captain Sawbridge.

  “When you first entered the service, Easy,” said Captain Sawbridge, “I thought that the sooner the service was rid of you the better: now that you have left it, I feel that it has lost one who, in all probability, would have proved a credit to it.”

  “Many thanks, sir,” replied Jack; “but how can I be a midshipman with eight thousand pounds a-year?”

  “I agree with you that it is impossible:—but dinner is serving: go into the after-cabin and the steward will give you all you require.”

  Our hero, whose face and hands were not a little grimed with the gunpowder, washed himself, combed out his curly black hair, and found all the party in the fore-cabin. Gascoigne, who had not been asked in the forenoon, was, by the consideration of Captain Sawbridge, added to the number. Before dinner was long off the table, the first lieutenant reported that it was necessary to turn the hands up, as they were close to the anchorage. The party, therefore, broke up sooner than otherwise would have been the case; and as soon as the Latona’s sails were furled, Captain Sawbridge went on shore to acquaint the governor with the results of the action. He asked Jack to accompany him, but our hero, wishing to be with Gascoigne, excused himself until the next day.

  “And now, Easy,” said Gascoigne, as soon as the captain had gone over the side, “I will ask permission to go on board with you or will you ask?”

  “I will ask,” replied Jack; “a gentleman of fortune has more weight with a first lieutenant than a midshipman.”

  So Jack went up to the first lieutenant, and with one of his polite bows, hoped, “if duty would permit, he would honour him by coming on board that evening with some of his officers, to see the Rebiera and to drink a bottle or two of champagne.”

  The first lieutenant, as the Rebiera was anchored not two cables’ lengths from him, replied, “that as soon as he had shifted the prisoners and secured the gun-boat, he would be very glad:” so did three or four more of the officers, and then Jack begged as a favour, that his old friend, Mr Gascoigne, might be permitted to go with him now, as he had important packages to entrust to his care to England. The first lieutenant was very willing, and Gascoigne and our hero jumped into the boat, and were once more in all the confidence of tried and deserved friendship.

  “Jack, I’ve been thinking of it, and I’ve made up my mind,” said Gascoigne. “I shall gain little or nothing by going home for my promotion: I may as well stay here, and as I have served my time and passed, my pay is now of little consequence. Will you take me with you?”

  “It was exactly what I was thinking of, Ned. Do you think that Captain Sawbridge will consent?”

  “I do: he knows how I am circumstanced, and that my going home was merely because I was tired of looking after the Aurora.”

  “We’ll go together and ask him to-morrow,” replied Jack.

  “At all events, you’ll have a more gentlemanly companion than Mr Oxbelly.”

  “But not so steady, Ned.”

  The first lieutenant and officers came on board, and passed a merry evening. There’s nothing passes time more agreeably away than champagne, and if you do not affront this regal wine by mixing him with any other, he never punishes you the next morning.

  CHAPTER XXXIX

  A council of war, in which Jack decides that he will have one more cruise.

  AS CAPTAIN Sawbridge did not return on board that evening, Easy went on shore and called upon him at the governor’s, to whom he was introduced, and received an invitation to dine with him. As Gascoigne could not come on shore, our hero took this opportunity of making his request to Captain Sawbridge
, stating that the person he had with him was not such as he wished and could confide everything to; that is, not one to whom he could talk about Agnes. Jack, as he found that Captain Sawbridge did not immediately assent, pressed the matter hard: at last Captain Sawbridge, who reflected that Gascoigne’s interest hereafter would be much greater through his friend Easy, than any other quarter, and that the more the friendship was cemented the more advantageous it might prove to Gascoigne, gave his consent to our hero’s wish, who called on board of the Latona to acquaint Gascoigne and the first lieutenant of Captain Sawbridge’s intentions, and then went on board of the Rebiera and ordered Mesty to come with his portmanteau on shore to the inn, that he might dress for dinner. Gascoigne, now considered as not belonging to the Latona, was permitted to accompany him: and Jack found himself looking out of the window at which he had hung out his trousers upon the memorable occasion when the boatswain had to follow his own precept, of duty before decency.

  “What scenes of adventures I have passed through since that,” thought Jack; “not much more than four years ago, then not three weeks in the service.” Whereupon Jack fell into a deep reverie, and thought of the baboon and of Agnes.

  The repairs of the Latona were all made good by the next day, and Gascoigne, having received his discharge ticket, went on board of the Rebiera. The gun-boat was put into the hands of the agent, and shortly afterwards purchased by government. The Rebiera’s crew did not, however, obtain their prize-money and share of the head-money, for she had seventy men on board, until their return, but, as they said, they had broken the ice and that was everything. Moreover, it gave them confidence in themselves, in their vessel, and in their commander. Our hero weighed a short time after the Latona, having first taken leave of Captain Sawbridge, and committed to his care a letter to Dr Middleton.

  Once more behold the trio together,—the two midshipmen hanging over the taffrail, and Mesty standing by them. They had rounded Europa Point, and, with a fine breeze off the land, were lying close-hauled along the Spanish shore. Mr Oxbelly was also walking near them.