Chapter Twenty Four.

Chapter Twenty Four.Bell. You have an opportunity, now, madam, to revenge yourself upon him for affronting your squirrel.Belin. O, the filthy, rude beast.Aram. ’Tis a lasting quarrel.Congreve.We sailed the next day, and, after one month more of unsuccessful cruising, arrived safe at Halifax, where I was informed that an old friend of my father’s, Sir Hurricane Humbug, of whom some mention has already been made in this work, had just arrived. He was not in an official character, but had come out to look after his own property. It is absolutely necessary that I should here, with more than usual formality, introduce the reader to an intimate acquaintance with the character of Sir Hurricane.Sir Hurricane had risen in life by his own ingenuity, and the patronage of a rich man in the south of England: he was of an ardent disposition, and was an admirable justice of peace, when theargumentum baculinumwas required, for which reason he had been sent to reduce two or three refractory establishments to order and obedience; and, by his firmness and good humour, succeeded. His tact was a little knowledge of everything, not like Solomon’s from the hyssop to the cedar, but from the boiler of a potato to the boiler of a steamboat, and from catching a sprat to catching a whale; he could fatten pigs and poultry, and had a peculiar way of improving the size, though not the breed of the latter; in short, he was “jack of all trades and master of none.”I shall not go any farther back with his memoirs than the day he chose to teach an old woman how to make mutton broth. He had in the course of an honest discharge of his duty at a certain very dirty sea-port town, incurred the displeasure of the lower orders generally: he nevertheless would omit no opportunity of doing good, and giving advice to the poor gratis. One day he saw a woman emptying the contents of a boiling kettle out of her door into the street. He approached, and saw a leg of mutton at the bottom, and the unthrifty housewife throwing away the liquor in which it had been boiled.“Good woman!” said the economical baronet, “do you know what you are doing? A handful of meat, a couple of carrots, and a couple of turnips, cut up into dice and thrown into that liquor, with a little parsley, would make excellent mutton broth for your family.”The old woman looked up, and saw the ogre of the dockyard; and either by losing her presence of mind or by a most malignant slip of the hand, she contrived to pour a part of the boiling water into the shoes of Sir Hurricane. The baronet jumped, roared, hopped, stamped, kicked off his shoes, and ran home damning the old woman, and himself too, for having tried to teach her how to make mutton broth. As he ran off, the ungrateful hag screamed after him, “Sarves you right; teach you to mind your own business.”The next day, in his magisterial capacity, he commanded the attendance of “the dealer in slops.”“Well, madam, what have you to say for yourself for scalding one of his Majesty’s justices of the peace? Don’t you know that I have the power to commit you to Maidstone gaol for the assault?”“I beg your honour’s pardon humbly,” said the woman; “I did not know it was your honour, or I am sure I wouldn’t a’ done it; besides, I own to your honour I had a drop too much.”The good-natured baronet dismissed her with a little suitable advice, which no doubt the good woman treated as she did that relative to the mutton broth.My acquaintance with Sir Hurricane had commenced at Plymouth, when he kicked my ship to sea in a gale of wind for fear we should ground on our beef bones. I never forgave him for that. My father had shown him great civility, and had introduced me to him. When at Halifax, we resided in the same house with a mutual friend who had always received me as his own son. He had a son of my own age with whom I had long been on terms of warm friendship, and Ned and I confederated against Sir Hurricane. Having paid a few visitsen passant, as I landed at the King’s Wharf, shook hands with a few pretty girls, and received their congratulations on my safe return, I went to the house of my friend, and, without ceremony, walked into the drawing-room.“Do you know, sir,” said the footman, “that Sir Hurricane is in his room? But he is very busy,” added the man, with a smile.“Busy or not,” said I, “I am sure he will see me”—so in I walked.Sir Hurricane was employed on something, but I could not distinctly make out what. He had a boot between his knees and the calves of his legs, which he pressed together, and as he turned his head round, I perceived that he held a knife between his teeth.“Leave the door open, messmate,” said he, without taking the least notice of me. Then rising, he drew a large black tom-cat by the tail, out of the boot, and flinging it away from him to a great distance, which distance was rapidly increased by the voluntary exertion of the cat, which ran away as if it had been mad—“There,” said he, “and be damned to you, you have given me more trouble than a whole Kentucky farm-yard but I shall not lose my sleep any more by your damned caterwauling.”All this was pronounced as if he had not seen me—in fact, it was a soliloquy, for the cat did not stay to bear it. “Ah!” said he, holding out his hand to me, “how do you do? I know your face, but damn me if I have not forgot your name.”“My name, sir,” said I, “is Mildmay.”“Ah, Mildmay, my noble, how do you do—how did you leave your father? I knew him very well—used to give devilish good feeds—many a plate I’ve dirtied at his table—don’t care how soon I put my legs under it again; take care, mind which way you put your helm—you will be aboard of my chickabiddies—don’t run athwart-hawse.”I found, on looking down, that I had a string round my leg, which fastened a chicken to the table, and saw many more of these little creatures attached to the chairs in the room; but for what purpose they were thus domesticated I could not discover.“Are these pet chickens of yours, Sir Hurricane?” said I.“No,” said the admiral, “but I mean them to be pet capons by and by, when they come to table. I have finished a dozen and a half this morning, besides that damned old tom-cat.”The mystery was now explained, and I afterwards found out (every man having his hobby) that the idiosyncrasy of this officer’s disposition had led him to the practice of neutralising the males of any species of bird or beast, in order to render them more palatable at the table.“Well, sir,” he continued, “how do you like your new ship—how do you like your old captain?—good fellow, isn’t he?—damn his eyes—countryman of mine—I knew him when his father hadn’t as much money as would jingle on a tombstone. That fellow owes everything to me. I introduced him to the Duke of —, and he got on by that interest. But I say, what do you think of the Halifax girls—nice! a’n’t they?”I expressed my admiration of them.“Ay, ay, they’ll do, won’t they?—we’ll have some fine fun—give the girls a party at George’s Island—hay-making—green gowns—ha, ha, ha! I say, your captain shall give us a party at Turtle Cove. We are going to give the old commissioner a feed at the Rockingham—blow the roof of his skull off with champagne. Do you dine at Birch Cove to-day? No, I suppose you are engaged to Miss Maria, or Miss Susan, or Miss Isabella—ha, sad dog, sad dog!—done a great deal of mischief,” surveying me from head to foot.I took the liberty of returning him the same compliment; he was a tall, raw-boned man, with strongly marked features, and a smile on his countenance that no modest woman could endure. In his person he gave me the idea of a discharged life-guardsman; but from his face you might have supposed that he had sat for one of Ruben’s satyrs. He was one of those people with whom you become immediately acquainted; and before I had been an hour in his company, I laughed very heartily at his jokes—not very delicate, I own, and for which he lost a considerable portion of my respect; but he was a source of constant amusement to me, living as we did in the same house.I was just going out of the room when he stopped me—“I say, how should you like to be introduced to some devilish nice Yankee girls, relations of mine, from Philadelphia? and I should be obliged to you to show them attention; very pretty girls, I can tell you, and will have good fortunes—you may go farther and fare worse. The old dad is as rich as a Jew—got the gout in both legs—can’t hold out much longer—nice pickings at his money bags, while the devil is picking his bones.”There was no withstanding such inducements, and I agreed that he should present me the next day.Our dialogue was interrupted by the master of the house and his son, who gave me a hearty welcome; the father had been a widower for some years, and his only son Ned resided with him, and was intended to succeed to his business as a merchant. We adjourned to dress for dinner; our bedrooms were contiguous and we began to talk of Sir Hurricane.“He is a strange mixture,” said Ned. “I love him for his good temper; but I owe him a grudge for making mischief between me and Maria; besides, he talks balderdash before the ladies and annoys them very much.”“I owe him a grudge too,” said I, “for sending me to sea in a gale of wind.”“We shall both be quits with him before long,” said Ned; “but let us now go and meet him at dinner. To-morrow I will set the housekeeper at him for his cruelty to her cat; and if I am not much mistaken she will pay him off for it.”Dinner passed off extremely well. The admiral was in high spirits; and as it was a bachelor’s party, he earned his wine. The next morning we met at breakfast. When that was over, the master of the house retired to his office, or pretended to do so. I was going out to walk, but Ned said I had better stay a few minutes; he had something to say to me; in fact, he had prepared a treat without my knowing it.“How did you sleep last night, Sir Hurricane?” said the artful Ned.“Why, pretty well considering,” said the admiral, “I was not tormented by that old tom-cat. Damn me, sir, that fellow was like the Grand Signior, and he kept his seraglio in the garret over my bedroom, instead of being at his post in the kitchen killing the rats that are running about like coach-horses.”“Sir Hurricane,” said I, “it’s always unlucky to sailors if they meddle with cats. You will have a gale of wind, in some shape or another before long.”These words were scarcely uttered, when, as if by preconcerted arrangement, the door opened, and in sailed Mrs Jellybag, the housekeeper, an elderly woman somewhere in the latitude of fifty-five or sixty years. With a low courtesy and contemptuous toss of her head, she addressed Sir Hurricane Humbug.“Pray, Sir Hurricane, what have you been doing to my cat?”The admiral, who prided himself in putting any one who applied to him on what he called the wrong scent, endeavoured to play off Mrs Jellybag in the same manner.“What have I done to your cat, my dear Mrs Jellybag? Why, my dear madam,” said he, assuming an air of surprise, “whatshouldI do to your cat?”“Youshouldhave left him alone, Mr Admiral; that cat was my property; if my master permits you to ill-treat the poultry, that’s his concern; but that cat was mine, Sir Hurricane—mine, every inch of him. The animal has been ill-treated, and sits moping in the corner of the fireplace as if he was dying; he’ll never be the cat he was again.”“I don’t think he ever will, my dear Mrs Housekeeper,” answered the admiral drily.The lady’s wrath now began to kindle. The admiral’s cool replies were like water sprinkled upon a strong flame, increasing its force, instead of checking it.“Don’t dearme, Sir Hurricane. I am not one ofyour dears—your dears are all in Dutchtown, more shame for you—an old man like you.”“Old man!” cried Sir Hurricane, losing his placidity a little.“Yes, old man; look at your hair—as grey as a goose’s.”“Why, as for my hair, that proves nothing, Mrs Jellybag, for though there may be snow on the mountains there is still heat in the valleys. What d’ye think of my metaphor?”“I am no more ametaforethan yourself, Sir Hurricane; but I’ll tell you what, you are acock-and-henadmiral, a dog-in-the-manger barrownight, who was jealous of my poor tom-cat, because—I won’t say what. Yes, Sir Hurricane, all hours of the day you are leering at every young woman that passes out of our windows—and an old man too—you ought to be ashamed of yourself; and then you go to church of a Sunday, and cry, ‘Good Lord, deliver us.’”The housekeeper now advanced so close to the admiral that her nose nearly touched his, her arms akimbo, and every preparation for boarding. The admiral, fearing she might not confine herself to vocality, but begin to beat time with her fists, thought it right to take up a position; he therefore very dexterously took two steps in the rear and mounted on a sofa; his left was defended by an upright piano, his right by the breakfast table with all the tea-things on it; his rear was against the wall, and his front depended on himself in person. From this commanding eminence he now looked down on the housekeeper, whose nose could reach no higher than the seals of her adversary’s watch; and in proportion as the baronet felt his security, so rose his choler. Having been for many years proctor at the great universities of Point-street and Blue-town, as well as member of Barbican and North Corner, he was perfectly qualified, in point of classical dialect, to maintain the honour of his profession. Nor was the lady by any means deficient. Although she had not taken her degree, her tongue from constant use had acquired a fluency which nature only concedes to practice.It will not be expected, nor would it be proper, that I should repeat all that passed in this concluding scene, in which the housekeeper gave us good reason to suppose that she was not quite so ignorant of the nature of the transaction as she would have had us believe.The battle having raged for half an hour with great fury, both parties desisted, for want of breath, and consequently of ammunition. This produced a gradual cessation of firing, and by degrees the ships separated—the admiral, like Lord Howe on the 1st of June, preserving his position, though very much mauled; and the housekeeper, like theMontague, running downto join her associates. A few random shots were exchanged as they parted, and at every second or third step on the stairs, Mrs Margaret brought to, and fired, until both were quite out of range; a distant rumbling noise was heard, and the admiral concluded, by muttering that she might go — somewhere, but the word died between his teeth.“There, admiral,” said I, “did not I tell you that you would have a squall?”“Squall! yes—damn my blood,” wiping his face; “how the spray flew from the old beldame! She’s fairly wetted my trousers, by God! Who’d ever thought that such a purring old bitch could have shown such a set of claws! War to the knife! By heavens, I’ll make her remember this.”Notwithstanding the admiral’s threat, hostilities ceased from that day. The cock-and-hen admiral found it convenient to show a white feather; interest stood in the way, and barred him from taking his revenge. Mrs Jellybag was a faithful servant, and our host neither liked that she should be interfered with, or that his house should become an arena for such conflicts; and the admiral, who was peculiarly tenacious of undrawing the strings of his purse, found it convenient to make the first advances. The affair was, therefore, amicably arranged—the tom-cat was, in consideration of his sufferings, created a baronet, and was ever afterwards dignified by the title ofSir H. Humbug; who certainly was the most eligible person to select for godfather, as he had taken the most effectual means of weaning him from “the pomps and vanities of this wicked world.”It was now about one o’clock, for this dispute had run away with the best part of the morning, when Sir Hurricane said, “Come, youngster, don’t forget your engagements—you know I have got to introduce you to my pretty cousins—you must mind your P’s and Q’s with the uncle, for he is a sensible old fellow—has read a great deal, and thinks America the first and greatest country in the world.”We accordingly proceeded to the residence of the fair strangers, who the admiral assured me had come to Halifax from mere curiosity, under the protection of their uncle and aunt. We knocked at the door, and the admiral inquired if Mrs McFlinn was at home; we were answered in the affirmative. The servant asked our names. “Vice-admiral Sir Hurricane Humbug,” said I, “and Mr Mildmay.”The drawing-room door was thrown open, and the man gave our names with great propriety. In we walked; a tall grave, looking, elderly lady received us, standing bolt upright, in the middle of the room; the young ladies were seated at their work.“My dear Mrs McFlinn,” said the admiral, “how do you do? I am delighted to see you and your fair nieces looking so lovely this morning.” The lady bowed to this compliment—a courtesy she was not quite up to—“Allow me to introduce my gallant young friend, Mildmay—young ladies, take care of your hearts—he is a great rogue, I assure you, though he smiles so sweet upon you.”Mrs McFlinn bowed again to me, hoped I was very well, and inquired “how long I had been in these parts.”I replied that I had just returned from a cruise, but that I was no stranger in Halifax.“Come, officer,” said the admiral, taking me by the arm, “I see you are bashful—I must make you acquainted with my pretty cousins. This, sir, is Miss McFlinn—her christian name is Deliverance. She is a young lady whose beauty is her least recommendation.”“A very equivocal compliment,” thought I.“This, sir, is Miss Jemima; this is Miss Temperance; and this is Miss Deborah. Now that you know them all by name, and they know you, I hope you will contrive to make yourself both useful and agreeable.”“A very pretty sinecure,” thinks I to myself, “just as if I had not my hands full already.” However, as I never wanted small-talk for pretty faces, I began with Jemima. They were all pretty, but she was a love—yet there was an awkwardness about them that convinced me that they were not of thebon tonof Philadelphia. The answers to all my questions were quick, pert, and given with an air of assumed consequence; at the same time I observed a mode of expression, which, though English, was not well-bred English.“Did you come through the United States,” said I, “into the British territory, or did you come by water?”“Oh, by water,” screamed all the girls at once, “andlikedto have been eaten up with the nasty roaches.”I did not exactly know what was meant by “roaches”, but it was explained to me soon after. I inquired whether they had seen a British man-of-war, and whether they would like to accompany me on board of that which I belonged to? They all screamed out at the same moment—“No, we never have seen one, and should like to see it of all things. When will you take us?”“To-morrow,” said I, “If the day should prove fine.”Here the admiral, who had been making by-play with the old chaperon, turned round and said:—“Well, Mr Frank, I see you are getting on pretty well without my assistance.”“Oh, we all like him very much,” said Temperance; “and he says he will take us on board his ship.”“Softly, my dear,” said the aunt; “we must not think of giving the gentleman the trouble until we are better acquainted.”“I am sure, aunt,” said Deborah, “we are very well acquainted.”“Then,” said the aunt, seeing she was in the minority, “suppose you and Sir Hurricane come and breakfast with us to-morrow morning at eleven o’clock, after which we shall be very much at your service.”Here the admiral looked at me with one of his impudent leers, and burst into a loud laugh; but I commanded my countenance very well, and rebuked him by a steady and reserved look.“I shall have great pleasure,” said I to the lady, “in obeying your orders from eleven to-morrow morning till the hour of dinner, when I am engaged.”So saying, we both bowed, wished them a good morning, and left the room. The door closed upon us, and I heard them all exclaim—“What a charming young man!”I went on board, and told the first lieutenant what I had done; he, very good-naturedly, said he would do his best, though the ship was not in order for showing, and would have a boat ready for us at the dockyard stairs at one o’clock the next day.I went to breakfast at the appointed hour. The admiral did not appear, but the ladies were all in readiness, and I was introduced to their uncle—a plain, civil-spoken man with a strong nasal twang. The repast was very good; and, as I had a great deal of work before me, I made hay while the sun shone. When the rage of hunger had been a little appeased, I made use of the first belle to inquire if a lady whom I once had the honour of knowing, was any relation of theirs, as she bore the same name, and came, like them, from Philadelphia.“Oh, dear, yes, indeed, she is a relation,” said all the ladies together; “we have not seen her this seven years, when did you see her last!”I replied that we had not met for some time; but that the last time I had heard of her, she was seen by a friend of mine at Turin on the Po. The last syllable was no sooner out of my mouth than tea, coffee, and chocolate was out of theirs, all spirting different ways just like so many young grampuses. They jumped up from the table, and ran away to their rooms, convulsed with laughter, leaving me alone with their uncle. I was all amazement, and I own I felt a little annoyed.I asked if I had made any seriouslapsus, or said anything very ridiculous or indelicate; if I had, I said I should never forgive myself.“Sir,” said Mr McFlinn, “I am very sure you meant nothing indelicate; but the refined society of Philadelphia, in which these young ladies have been educated, attaches very different meanings to certain words, to what you do in the old-country. The back settlements, for instance, so called by our ancestors, we call the western settlements, and we apply the same term, by analogy, to the human figure and dress. This is a mere little explanation, which you will take as it is meant. It cannot be expected thatforeigners, should understand the niceties of our language.”I begged pardon for my ignorance; and assured him I would be more cautious in future. “But pray tell me,” said I, “what there was in my last observation which could have caused so much mirth at my expense?”“Why, sir,” said Mr McFlinn, “you run me hard there; but since you force me to explain myself, I must say that you used a word exclusively confined to bed-chambers.”“But surely, sir,” said I, “you will allow that the name of a celebrated river, renowned in the most ancient of our histories, is not to be changed from such a refined notion of false delicacy?”“There you are wrong,” said Mr McFlinn. “The French, who are our instructors, in everything, teach us how to name all these things; and I think you will allow that they understand true politeness.”I bowed to thisdictum, only observing that there was a point in our language where delicacy became indelicate; that I thought the noble river had a priority of claim over a contemptible vessel; and, reverting to the former part of his discourse I said that we in England were not ashamed to call things by their proper names; and that we considered it a great mark of ill-breeding to go round about for a substitute to a common word, the vulgar import of which a well-bred and modest woman ought never to have known.The old gentleman felt a little abashed at this rebuke, and to relieve him I changed the subject, hoping that the ladies would forgive for this once, and return to their breakfasts.“Why, as for that matter,” said the gentleman, “the Philadelphia ladies have very delicate appetites, and I dare say they have had enough.”Finding I was not likely to gain ground on that tack, I steered my own course, and finished my breakfast, comforting myself that much execution had been done by the ladies on the commissariat department before the “Po” had made its appearance.By the time I had finished, the ladies had composed themselves; and the pretty Jemima had recovered the saint-like gravity of her lovely mouth. Decked in shawls and bonnets, they expressed much impatience to be gone. We walked to the dockyard, where a boat with a midshipman attended, and in a few minutes conveyed us alongside of my ship. A painted cask shaped like a chair, with a whip from the main yard-arm, was let down into the boat; and I carefully packed the fair creatures two at a time, and sent them up. There was a good deal of giggling, and screaming, and loud laughing, which rather annoyed me; for as they were not my friends, I had no wish that my mess-mates should think they belonged to that set in Halifax in which I was so kindly received.At length all were safely landed on the quarter-deck, without the exposure of an ankle, which they all seemed to dread. Whether their ankles were not quite so small as Mr McFlinn wished me to suppose their appetites were, I cannot say.“La, aunt!” said Deborah, “when I looked up in the air, and saw you and Deliverance dangling over our heads, I thought if the rope was to break, what a ‘squash’ you would have come on us: I am sure you would havepaunchedus.”Determined to have the Philadelphia version of this elegant phrase, I inquired what it meant, and was informed, that in their country when anyone had his bowelssqueezedout, they called it “paunching.”“Well,” thought I, “after this, you might swallow the Po without spoiling your breakfasts.” The band struck up “Yankee Doodle,” the ladies were in ecstasy, and began to caper round the quarter-deck.“La, Jemima!” said Deborah, “what have you done to the western side of your gown? it is all over white.”This was soon brushed off, but the expression was never forgotten in the ship, and always ludicrously applied.Having shown them the ship and all its wonders, I was glad to conduct them back to the shore. When I met the admiral, I told him I had done the honours, and hoped the next time he had any female relatives he would keep his engagements and attend to them himself.“Why, now, who do you think they are?” said the admiral.“Think!” said I, “why, who should they be but your Yankee cousins?”“Why, was you such a damn flat as to believe what I said, eh? Why, their father keeps a shop of all sorts at Philadelphia, and they were going to New York on a visit to some of their relatives, when the ship they were in was taken and brought in here.”“Then,” said I, “these are not thebon tonof Philadelphia?”“Just as much as Nancy Dennis is thebon tonof Halifax,” said the admiral; “though the uncle, as I told you, is a sensible fellow in his way.”“Very well,” said I, “you have caught me for once; but remember, I pay you for it.”And I was not long in his debt. Had he not given me this explanation, I should have received a very false impression of the ladies of Philadelphia, and have done them an injustice for which I should never have forgiven myself.The time of our sailing drew near. This was always a melancholy time in Halifax; but my last act on shore was one which created some mirth, and enlivened the gloom of my departure. My friend Ned and myself had not yet had an opportunity of paying off Sir Hurricane Humbug for telling tales to Maria, and for his false introduction to myself. One morning we both came out of our rooms at the same moment, and were proceeding to the breakfast parlour, when we spied the admiral performing some experiment. Unfortunately for him, he was seated in such a manner, just clear of a pent-house, as to be visible from our position; and at the same time, the collar of his coat would exactly intersect the segment of a circle described by any fluid, projected by us over this low roof, which would thus act as a conductor into the very pole of his neck.The housemaid (these housemaids are always the cause or the instruments of mischief, either by design or neglect) had left standing near the window a pail nearly filled with dirty water, from the wash-hand basins, etcetera. Ned and I looked at each other, then at the pail, and then at the admiral. Ned thought of his Maria: I of my false introduction. Without saying a word we both laid our hands on the pail, and in an instant, souse went all the contents over the admiral.“I say, what’s this?” he roared out. “Oh, you damned rascals!”He knew it could only be us. We laughed so immoderately, that we had not the power to move or to speak; while the poor admiral was spitting, spluttering, and coughing, enough to bring his heart up.“You infernal villains! No respect for a flag officer? I’ll serve you out for this.”The tears rolled down our cheeks; but not with grief. As soon as the admiral had sufficiently recovered himself to go in pursuit, we thought it time to make sail. We knew we were discovered; and as the matter could not be made worse, we resolved to tell him what it was for. Ned began,—“How do you do, admiral? you have taken a shower-bath this morning.”He looked up, with his teeth clenched—“Oh, it’s you, is it? Yes, I thought it could be no one else. Yes, I have had a shower-bath, and be damned to you, and that sea devil of a friend of yours. Pretty pass the service has come to, when officers of my rank are treated in this way. I’ll make you both envy the tom-cat.”“Beware the housekeeper, admiral,” said Ned. “Maria has made it up with me, admiral, and she sends her love to you.”“Damn Maria.”“Oh, very well, I’ll tell her so,” said Ned.“Admiral,” said I, “do you remember when you sent the — to sea in a gale of wind, when I was midshipman of her? Well, I got just as wet that night as you are now. Pray, admiral, have you any commands to the Misses McFlinn?”“I’ll tell you when I catch hold of you,” said Sir Hurricane, as he moved upstairs to his room, dripping like Pope’s Lodona, only not smelling so sweet.Hearing a noise, the housekeeper came up, and all the family assembled to condole with the humid admiral, but each enjoying the joke as much as ourselves. We, however, paid rather dearly for it. The admiral swore that neither of us should eat or drink in the house for three days; and Ned’s father, though ready to burst with laughter, was forced in common decency to say that he thought the admiral perfectly right after so gross a violation of hospitality.I went and dined on board my ship, Ned went to a coffee-house; but on the third morning after the shower, I popped my head into the breakfast parlour, and said—“Admiral, I have a good story to tell you, if you will let me come in.”“I’d see you damned first, you young scum of a fish-pond. Be off, or I’ll shy the ham at your head.”“No, but indeed, my dear admiral, it is such a nice story; it is one just to your fancy.”“Well then, stand there and tell it, but don’t come in, for if you do—”I stood at the door and told him the story.“Well, now,” said he, “that is a good story, and I will forgive you for it.” So with a hearty laugh at my ingenuity, he promised to forgive us both, and I ran and fetched Ned to breakfast.This was the safest mode we could have adopted to get into favour, for the admiral was a powerful, gigantic fellow, that could have given us some very awkward squeezes. The peace was very honourably kept, and the next day the ship sailed.

Bell. You have an opportunity, now, madam, to revenge yourself upon him for affronting your squirrel.Belin. O, the filthy, rude beast.Aram. ’Tis a lasting quarrel.Congreve.

Bell. You have an opportunity, now, madam, to revenge yourself upon him for affronting your squirrel.

Belin. O, the filthy, rude beast.

Aram. ’Tis a lasting quarrel.

Congreve.

We sailed the next day, and, after one month more of unsuccessful cruising, arrived safe at Halifax, where I was informed that an old friend of my father’s, Sir Hurricane Humbug, of whom some mention has already been made in this work, had just arrived. He was not in an official character, but had come out to look after his own property. It is absolutely necessary that I should here, with more than usual formality, introduce the reader to an intimate acquaintance with the character of Sir Hurricane.

Sir Hurricane had risen in life by his own ingenuity, and the patronage of a rich man in the south of England: he was of an ardent disposition, and was an admirable justice of peace, when theargumentum baculinumwas required, for which reason he had been sent to reduce two or three refractory establishments to order and obedience; and, by his firmness and good humour, succeeded. His tact was a little knowledge of everything, not like Solomon’s from the hyssop to the cedar, but from the boiler of a potato to the boiler of a steamboat, and from catching a sprat to catching a whale; he could fatten pigs and poultry, and had a peculiar way of improving the size, though not the breed of the latter; in short, he was “jack of all trades and master of none.”

I shall not go any farther back with his memoirs than the day he chose to teach an old woman how to make mutton broth. He had in the course of an honest discharge of his duty at a certain very dirty sea-port town, incurred the displeasure of the lower orders generally: he nevertheless would omit no opportunity of doing good, and giving advice to the poor gratis. One day he saw a woman emptying the contents of a boiling kettle out of her door into the street. He approached, and saw a leg of mutton at the bottom, and the unthrifty housewife throwing away the liquor in which it had been boiled.

“Good woman!” said the economical baronet, “do you know what you are doing? A handful of meat, a couple of carrots, and a couple of turnips, cut up into dice and thrown into that liquor, with a little parsley, would make excellent mutton broth for your family.”

The old woman looked up, and saw the ogre of the dockyard; and either by losing her presence of mind or by a most malignant slip of the hand, she contrived to pour a part of the boiling water into the shoes of Sir Hurricane. The baronet jumped, roared, hopped, stamped, kicked off his shoes, and ran home damning the old woman, and himself too, for having tried to teach her how to make mutton broth. As he ran off, the ungrateful hag screamed after him, “Sarves you right; teach you to mind your own business.”

The next day, in his magisterial capacity, he commanded the attendance of “the dealer in slops.”

“Well, madam, what have you to say for yourself for scalding one of his Majesty’s justices of the peace? Don’t you know that I have the power to commit you to Maidstone gaol for the assault?”

“I beg your honour’s pardon humbly,” said the woman; “I did not know it was your honour, or I am sure I wouldn’t a’ done it; besides, I own to your honour I had a drop too much.”

The good-natured baronet dismissed her with a little suitable advice, which no doubt the good woman treated as she did that relative to the mutton broth.

My acquaintance with Sir Hurricane had commenced at Plymouth, when he kicked my ship to sea in a gale of wind for fear we should ground on our beef bones. I never forgave him for that. My father had shown him great civility, and had introduced me to him. When at Halifax, we resided in the same house with a mutual friend who had always received me as his own son. He had a son of my own age with whom I had long been on terms of warm friendship, and Ned and I confederated against Sir Hurricane. Having paid a few visitsen passant, as I landed at the King’s Wharf, shook hands with a few pretty girls, and received their congratulations on my safe return, I went to the house of my friend, and, without ceremony, walked into the drawing-room.

“Do you know, sir,” said the footman, “that Sir Hurricane is in his room? But he is very busy,” added the man, with a smile.

“Busy or not,” said I, “I am sure he will see me”—so in I walked.

Sir Hurricane was employed on something, but I could not distinctly make out what. He had a boot between his knees and the calves of his legs, which he pressed together, and as he turned his head round, I perceived that he held a knife between his teeth.

“Leave the door open, messmate,” said he, without taking the least notice of me. Then rising, he drew a large black tom-cat by the tail, out of the boot, and flinging it away from him to a great distance, which distance was rapidly increased by the voluntary exertion of the cat, which ran away as if it had been mad—“There,” said he, “and be damned to you, you have given me more trouble than a whole Kentucky farm-yard but I shall not lose my sleep any more by your damned caterwauling.”

All this was pronounced as if he had not seen me—in fact, it was a soliloquy, for the cat did not stay to bear it. “Ah!” said he, holding out his hand to me, “how do you do? I know your face, but damn me if I have not forgot your name.”

“My name, sir,” said I, “is Mildmay.”

“Ah, Mildmay, my noble, how do you do—how did you leave your father? I knew him very well—used to give devilish good feeds—many a plate I’ve dirtied at his table—don’t care how soon I put my legs under it again; take care, mind which way you put your helm—you will be aboard of my chickabiddies—don’t run athwart-hawse.”

I found, on looking down, that I had a string round my leg, which fastened a chicken to the table, and saw many more of these little creatures attached to the chairs in the room; but for what purpose they were thus domesticated I could not discover.

“Are these pet chickens of yours, Sir Hurricane?” said I.

“No,” said the admiral, “but I mean them to be pet capons by and by, when they come to table. I have finished a dozen and a half this morning, besides that damned old tom-cat.”

The mystery was now explained, and I afterwards found out (every man having his hobby) that the idiosyncrasy of this officer’s disposition had led him to the practice of neutralising the males of any species of bird or beast, in order to render them more palatable at the table.

“Well, sir,” he continued, “how do you like your new ship—how do you like your old captain?—good fellow, isn’t he?—damn his eyes—countryman of mine—I knew him when his father hadn’t as much money as would jingle on a tombstone. That fellow owes everything to me. I introduced him to the Duke of —, and he got on by that interest. But I say, what do you think of the Halifax girls—nice! a’n’t they?”

I expressed my admiration of them.

“Ay, ay, they’ll do, won’t they?—we’ll have some fine fun—give the girls a party at George’s Island—hay-making—green gowns—ha, ha, ha! I say, your captain shall give us a party at Turtle Cove. We are going to give the old commissioner a feed at the Rockingham—blow the roof of his skull off with champagne. Do you dine at Birch Cove to-day? No, I suppose you are engaged to Miss Maria, or Miss Susan, or Miss Isabella—ha, sad dog, sad dog!—done a great deal of mischief,” surveying me from head to foot.

I took the liberty of returning him the same compliment; he was a tall, raw-boned man, with strongly marked features, and a smile on his countenance that no modest woman could endure. In his person he gave me the idea of a discharged life-guardsman; but from his face you might have supposed that he had sat for one of Ruben’s satyrs. He was one of those people with whom you become immediately acquainted; and before I had been an hour in his company, I laughed very heartily at his jokes—not very delicate, I own, and for which he lost a considerable portion of my respect; but he was a source of constant amusement to me, living as we did in the same house.

I was just going out of the room when he stopped me—“I say, how should you like to be introduced to some devilish nice Yankee girls, relations of mine, from Philadelphia? and I should be obliged to you to show them attention; very pretty girls, I can tell you, and will have good fortunes—you may go farther and fare worse. The old dad is as rich as a Jew—got the gout in both legs—can’t hold out much longer—nice pickings at his money bags, while the devil is picking his bones.”

There was no withstanding such inducements, and I agreed that he should present me the next day.

Our dialogue was interrupted by the master of the house and his son, who gave me a hearty welcome; the father had been a widower for some years, and his only son Ned resided with him, and was intended to succeed to his business as a merchant. We adjourned to dress for dinner; our bedrooms were contiguous and we began to talk of Sir Hurricane.

“He is a strange mixture,” said Ned. “I love him for his good temper; but I owe him a grudge for making mischief between me and Maria; besides, he talks balderdash before the ladies and annoys them very much.”

“I owe him a grudge too,” said I, “for sending me to sea in a gale of wind.”

“We shall both be quits with him before long,” said Ned; “but let us now go and meet him at dinner. To-morrow I will set the housekeeper at him for his cruelty to her cat; and if I am not much mistaken she will pay him off for it.”

Dinner passed off extremely well. The admiral was in high spirits; and as it was a bachelor’s party, he earned his wine. The next morning we met at breakfast. When that was over, the master of the house retired to his office, or pretended to do so. I was going out to walk, but Ned said I had better stay a few minutes; he had something to say to me; in fact, he had prepared a treat without my knowing it.

“How did you sleep last night, Sir Hurricane?” said the artful Ned.

“Why, pretty well considering,” said the admiral, “I was not tormented by that old tom-cat. Damn me, sir, that fellow was like the Grand Signior, and he kept his seraglio in the garret over my bedroom, instead of being at his post in the kitchen killing the rats that are running about like coach-horses.”

“Sir Hurricane,” said I, “it’s always unlucky to sailors if they meddle with cats. You will have a gale of wind, in some shape or another before long.”

These words were scarcely uttered, when, as if by preconcerted arrangement, the door opened, and in sailed Mrs Jellybag, the housekeeper, an elderly woman somewhere in the latitude of fifty-five or sixty years. With a low courtesy and contemptuous toss of her head, she addressed Sir Hurricane Humbug.

“Pray, Sir Hurricane, what have you been doing to my cat?”

The admiral, who prided himself in putting any one who applied to him on what he called the wrong scent, endeavoured to play off Mrs Jellybag in the same manner.

“What have I done to your cat, my dear Mrs Jellybag? Why, my dear madam,” said he, assuming an air of surprise, “whatshouldI do to your cat?”

“Youshouldhave left him alone, Mr Admiral; that cat was my property; if my master permits you to ill-treat the poultry, that’s his concern; but that cat was mine, Sir Hurricane—mine, every inch of him. The animal has been ill-treated, and sits moping in the corner of the fireplace as if he was dying; he’ll never be the cat he was again.”

“I don’t think he ever will, my dear Mrs Housekeeper,” answered the admiral drily.

The lady’s wrath now began to kindle. The admiral’s cool replies were like water sprinkled upon a strong flame, increasing its force, instead of checking it.

“Don’t dearme, Sir Hurricane. I am not one ofyour dears—your dears are all in Dutchtown, more shame for you—an old man like you.”

“Old man!” cried Sir Hurricane, losing his placidity a little.

“Yes, old man; look at your hair—as grey as a goose’s.”

“Why, as for my hair, that proves nothing, Mrs Jellybag, for though there may be snow on the mountains there is still heat in the valleys. What d’ye think of my metaphor?”

“I am no more ametaforethan yourself, Sir Hurricane; but I’ll tell you what, you are acock-and-henadmiral, a dog-in-the-manger barrownight, who was jealous of my poor tom-cat, because—I won’t say what. Yes, Sir Hurricane, all hours of the day you are leering at every young woman that passes out of our windows—and an old man too—you ought to be ashamed of yourself; and then you go to church of a Sunday, and cry, ‘Good Lord, deliver us.’”

The housekeeper now advanced so close to the admiral that her nose nearly touched his, her arms akimbo, and every preparation for boarding. The admiral, fearing she might not confine herself to vocality, but begin to beat time with her fists, thought it right to take up a position; he therefore very dexterously took two steps in the rear and mounted on a sofa; his left was defended by an upright piano, his right by the breakfast table with all the tea-things on it; his rear was against the wall, and his front depended on himself in person. From this commanding eminence he now looked down on the housekeeper, whose nose could reach no higher than the seals of her adversary’s watch; and in proportion as the baronet felt his security, so rose his choler. Having been for many years proctor at the great universities of Point-street and Blue-town, as well as member of Barbican and North Corner, he was perfectly qualified, in point of classical dialect, to maintain the honour of his profession. Nor was the lady by any means deficient. Although she had not taken her degree, her tongue from constant use had acquired a fluency which nature only concedes to practice.

It will not be expected, nor would it be proper, that I should repeat all that passed in this concluding scene, in which the housekeeper gave us good reason to suppose that she was not quite so ignorant of the nature of the transaction as she would have had us believe.

The battle having raged for half an hour with great fury, both parties desisted, for want of breath, and consequently of ammunition. This produced a gradual cessation of firing, and by degrees the ships separated—the admiral, like Lord Howe on the 1st of June, preserving his position, though very much mauled; and the housekeeper, like theMontague, running downto join her associates. A few random shots were exchanged as they parted, and at every second or third step on the stairs, Mrs Margaret brought to, and fired, until both were quite out of range; a distant rumbling noise was heard, and the admiral concluded, by muttering that she might go — somewhere, but the word died between his teeth.

“There, admiral,” said I, “did not I tell you that you would have a squall?”

“Squall! yes—damn my blood,” wiping his face; “how the spray flew from the old beldame! She’s fairly wetted my trousers, by God! Who’d ever thought that such a purring old bitch could have shown such a set of claws! War to the knife! By heavens, I’ll make her remember this.”

Notwithstanding the admiral’s threat, hostilities ceased from that day. The cock-and-hen admiral found it convenient to show a white feather; interest stood in the way, and barred him from taking his revenge. Mrs Jellybag was a faithful servant, and our host neither liked that she should be interfered with, or that his house should become an arena for such conflicts; and the admiral, who was peculiarly tenacious of undrawing the strings of his purse, found it convenient to make the first advances. The affair was, therefore, amicably arranged—the tom-cat was, in consideration of his sufferings, created a baronet, and was ever afterwards dignified by the title ofSir H. Humbug; who certainly was the most eligible person to select for godfather, as he had taken the most effectual means of weaning him from “the pomps and vanities of this wicked world.”

It was now about one o’clock, for this dispute had run away with the best part of the morning, when Sir Hurricane said, “Come, youngster, don’t forget your engagements—you know I have got to introduce you to my pretty cousins—you must mind your P’s and Q’s with the uncle, for he is a sensible old fellow—has read a great deal, and thinks America the first and greatest country in the world.”

We accordingly proceeded to the residence of the fair strangers, who the admiral assured me had come to Halifax from mere curiosity, under the protection of their uncle and aunt. We knocked at the door, and the admiral inquired if Mrs McFlinn was at home; we were answered in the affirmative. The servant asked our names. “Vice-admiral Sir Hurricane Humbug,” said I, “and Mr Mildmay.”

The drawing-room door was thrown open, and the man gave our names with great propriety. In we walked; a tall grave, looking, elderly lady received us, standing bolt upright, in the middle of the room; the young ladies were seated at their work.

“My dear Mrs McFlinn,” said the admiral, “how do you do? I am delighted to see you and your fair nieces looking so lovely this morning.” The lady bowed to this compliment—a courtesy she was not quite up to—“Allow me to introduce my gallant young friend, Mildmay—young ladies, take care of your hearts—he is a great rogue, I assure you, though he smiles so sweet upon you.”

Mrs McFlinn bowed again to me, hoped I was very well, and inquired “how long I had been in these parts.”

I replied that I had just returned from a cruise, but that I was no stranger in Halifax.

“Come, officer,” said the admiral, taking me by the arm, “I see you are bashful—I must make you acquainted with my pretty cousins. This, sir, is Miss McFlinn—her christian name is Deliverance. She is a young lady whose beauty is her least recommendation.”

“A very equivocal compliment,” thought I.

“This, sir, is Miss Jemima; this is Miss Temperance; and this is Miss Deborah. Now that you know them all by name, and they know you, I hope you will contrive to make yourself both useful and agreeable.”

“A very pretty sinecure,” thinks I to myself, “just as if I had not my hands full already.” However, as I never wanted small-talk for pretty faces, I began with Jemima. They were all pretty, but she was a love—yet there was an awkwardness about them that convinced me that they were not of thebon tonof Philadelphia. The answers to all my questions were quick, pert, and given with an air of assumed consequence; at the same time I observed a mode of expression, which, though English, was not well-bred English.

“Did you come through the United States,” said I, “into the British territory, or did you come by water?”

“Oh, by water,” screamed all the girls at once, “andlikedto have been eaten up with the nasty roaches.”

I did not exactly know what was meant by “roaches”, but it was explained to me soon after. I inquired whether they had seen a British man-of-war, and whether they would like to accompany me on board of that which I belonged to? They all screamed out at the same moment—

“No, we never have seen one, and should like to see it of all things. When will you take us?”

“To-morrow,” said I, “If the day should prove fine.”

Here the admiral, who had been making by-play with the old chaperon, turned round and said:—

“Well, Mr Frank, I see you are getting on pretty well without my assistance.”

“Oh, we all like him very much,” said Temperance; “and he says he will take us on board his ship.”

“Softly, my dear,” said the aunt; “we must not think of giving the gentleman the trouble until we are better acquainted.”

“I am sure, aunt,” said Deborah, “we are very well acquainted.”

“Then,” said the aunt, seeing she was in the minority, “suppose you and Sir Hurricane come and breakfast with us to-morrow morning at eleven o’clock, after which we shall be very much at your service.”

Here the admiral looked at me with one of his impudent leers, and burst into a loud laugh; but I commanded my countenance very well, and rebuked him by a steady and reserved look.

“I shall have great pleasure,” said I to the lady, “in obeying your orders from eleven to-morrow morning till the hour of dinner, when I am engaged.”

So saying, we both bowed, wished them a good morning, and left the room. The door closed upon us, and I heard them all exclaim—“What a charming young man!”

I went on board, and told the first lieutenant what I had done; he, very good-naturedly, said he would do his best, though the ship was not in order for showing, and would have a boat ready for us at the dockyard stairs at one o’clock the next day.

I went to breakfast at the appointed hour. The admiral did not appear, but the ladies were all in readiness, and I was introduced to their uncle—a plain, civil-spoken man with a strong nasal twang. The repast was very good; and, as I had a great deal of work before me, I made hay while the sun shone. When the rage of hunger had been a little appeased, I made use of the first belle to inquire if a lady whom I once had the honour of knowing, was any relation of theirs, as she bore the same name, and came, like them, from Philadelphia.

“Oh, dear, yes, indeed, she is a relation,” said all the ladies together; “we have not seen her this seven years, when did you see her last!”

I replied that we had not met for some time; but that the last time I had heard of her, she was seen by a friend of mine at Turin on the Po. The last syllable was no sooner out of my mouth than tea, coffee, and chocolate was out of theirs, all spirting different ways just like so many young grampuses. They jumped up from the table, and ran away to their rooms, convulsed with laughter, leaving me alone with their uncle. I was all amazement, and I own I felt a little annoyed.

I asked if I had made any seriouslapsus, or said anything very ridiculous or indelicate; if I had, I said I should never forgive myself.

“Sir,” said Mr McFlinn, “I am very sure you meant nothing indelicate; but the refined society of Philadelphia, in which these young ladies have been educated, attaches very different meanings to certain words, to what you do in the old-country. The back settlements, for instance, so called by our ancestors, we call the western settlements, and we apply the same term, by analogy, to the human figure and dress. This is a mere little explanation, which you will take as it is meant. It cannot be expected thatforeigners, should understand the niceties of our language.”

I begged pardon for my ignorance; and assured him I would be more cautious in future. “But pray tell me,” said I, “what there was in my last observation which could have caused so much mirth at my expense?”

“Why, sir,” said Mr McFlinn, “you run me hard there; but since you force me to explain myself, I must say that you used a word exclusively confined to bed-chambers.”

“But surely, sir,” said I, “you will allow that the name of a celebrated river, renowned in the most ancient of our histories, is not to be changed from such a refined notion of false delicacy?”

“There you are wrong,” said Mr McFlinn. “The French, who are our instructors, in everything, teach us how to name all these things; and I think you will allow that they understand true politeness.”

I bowed to thisdictum, only observing that there was a point in our language where delicacy became indelicate; that I thought the noble river had a priority of claim over a contemptible vessel; and, reverting to the former part of his discourse I said that we in England were not ashamed to call things by their proper names; and that we considered it a great mark of ill-breeding to go round about for a substitute to a common word, the vulgar import of which a well-bred and modest woman ought never to have known.

The old gentleman felt a little abashed at this rebuke, and to relieve him I changed the subject, hoping that the ladies would forgive for this once, and return to their breakfasts.

“Why, as for that matter,” said the gentleman, “the Philadelphia ladies have very delicate appetites, and I dare say they have had enough.”

Finding I was not likely to gain ground on that tack, I steered my own course, and finished my breakfast, comforting myself that much execution had been done by the ladies on the commissariat department before the “Po” had made its appearance.

By the time I had finished, the ladies had composed themselves; and the pretty Jemima had recovered the saint-like gravity of her lovely mouth. Decked in shawls and bonnets, they expressed much impatience to be gone. We walked to the dockyard, where a boat with a midshipman attended, and in a few minutes conveyed us alongside of my ship. A painted cask shaped like a chair, with a whip from the main yard-arm, was let down into the boat; and I carefully packed the fair creatures two at a time, and sent them up. There was a good deal of giggling, and screaming, and loud laughing, which rather annoyed me; for as they were not my friends, I had no wish that my mess-mates should think they belonged to that set in Halifax in which I was so kindly received.

At length all were safely landed on the quarter-deck, without the exposure of an ankle, which they all seemed to dread. Whether their ankles were not quite so small as Mr McFlinn wished me to suppose their appetites were, I cannot say.

“La, aunt!” said Deborah, “when I looked up in the air, and saw you and Deliverance dangling over our heads, I thought if the rope was to break, what a ‘squash’ you would have come on us: I am sure you would havepaunchedus.”

Determined to have the Philadelphia version of this elegant phrase, I inquired what it meant, and was informed, that in their country when anyone had his bowelssqueezedout, they called it “paunching.”

“Well,” thought I, “after this, you might swallow the Po without spoiling your breakfasts.” The band struck up “Yankee Doodle,” the ladies were in ecstasy, and began to caper round the quarter-deck.

“La, Jemima!” said Deborah, “what have you done to the western side of your gown? it is all over white.”

This was soon brushed off, but the expression was never forgotten in the ship, and always ludicrously applied.

Having shown them the ship and all its wonders, I was glad to conduct them back to the shore. When I met the admiral, I told him I had done the honours, and hoped the next time he had any female relatives he would keep his engagements and attend to them himself.

“Why, now, who do you think they are?” said the admiral.

“Think!” said I, “why, who should they be but your Yankee cousins?”

“Why, was you such a damn flat as to believe what I said, eh? Why, their father keeps a shop of all sorts at Philadelphia, and they were going to New York on a visit to some of their relatives, when the ship they were in was taken and brought in here.”

“Then,” said I, “these are not thebon tonof Philadelphia?”

“Just as much as Nancy Dennis is thebon tonof Halifax,” said the admiral; “though the uncle, as I told you, is a sensible fellow in his way.”

“Very well,” said I, “you have caught me for once; but remember, I pay you for it.”

And I was not long in his debt. Had he not given me this explanation, I should have received a very false impression of the ladies of Philadelphia, and have done them an injustice for which I should never have forgiven myself.

The time of our sailing drew near. This was always a melancholy time in Halifax; but my last act on shore was one which created some mirth, and enlivened the gloom of my departure. My friend Ned and myself had not yet had an opportunity of paying off Sir Hurricane Humbug for telling tales to Maria, and for his false introduction to myself. One morning we both came out of our rooms at the same moment, and were proceeding to the breakfast parlour, when we spied the admiral performing some experiment. Unfortunately for him, he was seated in such a manner, just clear of a pent-house, as to be visible from our position; and at the same time, the collar of his coat would exactly intersect the segment of a circle described by any fluid, projected by us over this low roof, which would thus act as a conductor into the very pole of his neck.

The housemaid (these housemaids are always the cause or the instruments of mischief, either by design or neglect) had left standing near the window a pail nearly filled with dirty water, from the wash-hand basins, etcetera. Ned and I looked at each other, then at the pail, and then at the admiral. Ned thought of his Maria: I of my false introduction. Without saying a word we both laid our hands on the pail, and in an instant, souse went all the contents over the admiral.

“I say, what’s this?” he roared out. “Oh, you damned rascals!”

He knew it could only be us. We laughed so immoderately, that we had not the power to move or to speak; while the poor admiral was spitting, spluttering, and coughing, enough to bring his heart up.

“You infernal villains! No respect for a flag officer? I’ll serve you out for this.”

The tears rolled down our cheeks; but not with grief. As soon as the admiral had sufficiently recovered himself to go in pursuit, we thought it time to make sail. We knew we were discovered; and as the matter could not be made worse, we resolved to tell him what it was for. Ned began,—“How do you do, admiral? you have taken a shower-bath this morning.”

He looked up, with his teeth clenched—“Oh, it’s you, is it? Yes, I thought it could be no one else. Yes, I have had a shower-bath, and be damned to you, and that sea devil of a friend of yours. Pretty pass the service has come to, when officers of my rank are treated in this way. I’ll make you both envy the tom-cat.”

“Beware the housekeeper, admiral,” said Ned. “Maria has made it up with me, admiral, and she sends her love to you.”

“Damn Maria.”

“Oh, very well, I’ll tell her so,” said Ned.

“Admiral,” said I, “do you remember when you sent the — to sea in a gale of wind, when I was midshipman of her? Well, I got just as wet that night as you are now. Pray, admiral, have you any commands to the Misses McFlinn?”

“I’ll tell you when I catch hold of you,” said Sir Hurricane, as he moved upstairs to his room, dripping like Pope’s Lodona, only not smelling so sweet.

Hearing a noise, the housekeeper came up, and all the family assembled to condole with the humid admiral, but each enjoying the joke as much as ourselves. We, however, paid rather dearly for it. The admiral swore that neither of us should eat or drink in the house for three days; and Ned’s father, though ready to burst with laughter, was forced in common decency to say that he thought the admiral perfectly right after so gross a violation of hospitality.

I went and dined on board my ship, Ned went to a coffee-house; but on the third morning after the shower, I popped my head into the breakfast parlour, and said—

“Admiral, I have a good story to tell you, if you will let me come in.”

“I’d see you damned first, you young scum of a fish-pond. Be off, or I’ll shy the ham at your head.”

“No, but indeed, my dear admiral, it is such a nice story; it is one just to your fancy.”

“Well then, stand there and tell it, but don’t come in, for if you do—”

I stood at the door and told him the story.

“Well, now,” said he, “that is a good story, and I will forgive you for it.” So with a hearty laugh at my ingenuity, he promised to forgive us both, and I ran and fetched Ned to breakfast.

This was the safest mode we could have adopted to get into favour, for the admiral was a powerful, gigantic fellow, that could have given us some very awkward squeezes. The peace was very honourably kept, and the next day the ship sailed.

Chapter Twenty Five.They turned into a long and wide street, into which not a single living figure appeared to break the perspective. Solitude is never so overpowering as when it exists among the works of man. In old woods, or on the tops of mountains, it is graceful and benignant, for it is a home; but where thick dwellings are, it wears a ghost-like aspect.Inesilla.We were ordered to look-out for the American squadron that had done so much mischief to our trade; and directed our course, for this purpose, to the coast of Africa. We had been out about ten days, when a vessel was seen from the mast-head. We were at that time within about one hundred and eighty leagues of the Cape de Verd Islands. We set all sail in chase, and soon made her out to be a large frigate, who seemed to have no objection to the meeting, but evidently tried her rate of sailing with us occasionally: her behaviour left us no doubt that she was an American frigate, and we cleared for action.The captain, I believe, had never been in a sea-fight, or if he had, he had entirely forgotten all he had learned; for which reason, in order to refresh his memory, he laid upon the capstan-head the famous epitome of John Hamilton Moore, now obsolete, but held at that time to be one of the most luminous authors who had ever treated on maritime affairs, John, who certainly gives a great deal of advice on every subject, has, amongst other valuable directions, told us how to bring a ship into action according to the best and most approved methods, and how to take your enemy afterwards if you can. But the said John must have thought red-hot shot could be heated by a process somewhat similar to that by which he heated his own nose, or he must entirely have forgotten “the manners and customs in such cases used at sea,” for he recommends, as a prelude or first course to the entertainment, a good dose of red-hot shot, served up the moment the guests are assembled; but does not tell us where the said dishes are to be cooked. No doubt whatever that a broadside composed of such ingredients, would be a great desideratum in favour of a victory, especially if the enemy should happen to have none of his own to give in return.So thought his lordship, who, walking up to the first lieutenant, said:—“Mr Thingamy, don’t you think red-hot what-do-ye-call-ums should be given in the first broadside to that thingamybob?”“Red-hot shot, do you mean, my lord?”“Yes,” said his lordship; “don’t you think they would settle his hash?”“Where the devil are we to get them, my lord?” said the first lieutenant, who was not the same that wanted to fight me for saying he was as clever a fellow as the captain: that man had been unshipped by the machinations of Toady.“Very true,” said his lordship.We now approached the stranger very fast, when to our great mortification she proved to be an English frigate; made the private signal; it was answered; showed her number, we showed ours, and her captain being junior officer came on board, to pay his respects and show his order. He was three weeks from England, brought news of a peace with France, and, among other treats, a navy list, which, next to bottle of London porter, is the greatest luxury to a sea officer in a foreign climate.Greedily did we all run over this interesting little book, and among the names of the new-made commanders, I was overjoyed to find my own: the last on the list, to be sure, but that I cared not for. I received the congratulations of my mess-mates. We parted company with the stranger, and steered for the island of St. Jago, our captain intending to complete his water in Port Praya Bay, previous to a long cruise after the American squadron.We found here a slave-vessel in charge of a naval officer, bound to England; and I thought this a good opportunity to quit, not being over anxious to serve as a lieutenant when I knew I was a commander. I was also particularly anxious to return to England for many reasons, the hand of my dear Emily standing at the head of them. I therefore requested the captain’s permission to quit the ship; and as he wished to give an acting order to one of his own followers, he consented. I took my leave of all my mess-mates, and of my captain, who, though an unfeeling coxcomb, and no sailor, certainly had some good points about him: in fact, his lordship was a gentleman; and had his ship fallen in with an enemy, she would have been well fought, as he had good officers, was sufficiently aware of his own incapability, would take advice, and as a man of undaunted bravery was not to be surpassed in the service.On the third day after our arrival the frigate sailed. I went on board the slaver, which had no slaves on board except four to assist in working the vessel; she was in a filthy state, and there was no inn on shore, and of course no remedy. Port Praya is the only good anchorage in the island; the old town of St. Jago was deserted, in consequence of their being only an open roadstead before it, very unsafe for vessels to lie it. The town of Port Praya is a miserable assemblage of mud huts; the governor’s house, and one more, are better built, but they are not so comfortable as a cottage in England. There were not ten Portuguese on the island, and above ten thousand blacks, all originally slaves; and yet everything was peaceable, although fresh arrivals of slaves came every day.It was easy to distinguish the different races; the Yatoffes are tall men, not very stoutly built; most of them are soldiers. I have seen ten of them standing together, the lowest not less than six feet two or three inches. The Foulahs, from the Ashantee country are another race; they are powerful and muscular, ill-featured, badly disposed, and treacherous. The Mandingoes are a smaller race than the others, but they are well disposed and tractable.This island of slaves is kept in subjection by slaves only who are enrolled as soldiers, miserably equipped; a cap and a jacket were all they owed to art; nature provided the rest of their uniform. The governor’s orderly alone sported a pair of trousers, and these were on permanent duty, being transferred from one to the other as their turn for that service came on.I paid my respects to the governor, who, although a Portuguese, chose to follow the fashion of the island, and was as black as most of his subjects. After a few French compliments, I took my leave. I was curious to see the old town of St. Jago which had been abandoned; and after a hot walk of two hours over uncultivated ground covered with fine goats, which are the staple of the island, I reached the desolate spot.It was melancholy to behold; it seemed as if the human race were extinct. The town was built on a wide ravine, running down to the sea; the houses were of stone, and handsome; the streets regular and paved, which proves that it had formerly been a place of some importance; but it is surprising that a spot so barren as this island generally is, should ever have had any mercantile prosperity. Whatever it did enjoy, I should conceive must have been anterior to the Portuguese having sailed round the Cape of Good Hope: and the solidity and even elegance of construction among the buildings justifies the supposition.The walls were massive and remained entire; the churches were numerous, but the roofs of them and the dwelling-houses had mostly fallen in. Trees had grown to a considerable height in the midst of the streets, piercing through the pavements and raising the stones on each side; and the convent gardens were a mere wilderness. The cocoa-nut had thrust its head through many a roof, and its long stems through the tops of the houses; the banana luxuriated out of the windows. The only inhabitants of a town capable of containing ten thousand inhabitants, were a few friars, who resided in a miserable ruin which had once been a beautiful convent. They were the first negro friars I had ever seen; their cowls were as black as their faces, and their hair grey and woolly. I concluded they had adopted this mode of life as being the laziest; but I could not discover by what means they could gain a livelihood, for there were none to give them anything in charity.The appearance of these poor men added infinitely to the necromantic character of the whole melancholy scene. There was a beauty, a loveliness, in these venerable ruins, which delighted me. There was a solemn silence in the town; but there was a small, still voice, that said to me,—“London may one day be the same—and Paris; and you and your children’s children will all have lived, and had their loves and adventures; but who will the wretched man be that shall sit on the summit of Primrose Hill, and look down upon the desolation of the mighty city, as you, from this little eminence, behold the once flourishing town of St. Jago?”The goats were browsing on the side of the hill, and the little kids frisking by their dams. “These,” thought I, “perhaps are the only food and nourishment of these poor friars.” I walked to Port Praya, and returned to my floating prison, the slave-ship. The officer who was conducting her home, as a prize, was not a pleasant man; I did not like him, and nothing passed between us but common civility. He was an old master’s mate, who had probably served his time thrice over; but having no merit of his own, and no friends to cause that defect to be overlooked, he had never obtained promotion: he therefore naturally looked on a young commander with envy. He had only given me a passage home from motives which he could not resist; first, because he was forced to obey the orders of my late captain; and, secondly, because my purse would supply the cabin with the necessary stock of refreshments, in the shape of fruit, poultry, and vegetables, which are to be procured at Port Praya; he was, therefore, under the necessity of enduring my company.The vessel, I found, was not to sail on the following day, as he intended. I therefore took my gun at daybreak, and wandered with a guide, up the valleys, in search of thepintados, or Guinea fowl with which the island abounds; but they were so shy that I could never get a shot at them; and I returned over the hills, which my guide assured me was the shortest way. Tired with my walk, I was not sorry to arrive at a sheltered valley, where the palmetto and the plantain offer a friendly shade from the burning sun. The guide, with wonderful agility, mounted the cocoa-nut-tree, and threw down half a dozen nuts. They were green, and their milk I thought the most refreshing and delicious draught I had ever taken.The vesper bells at Port Praya were now summoning the poor black friars to their devotion; and a stir and bustle appeared among the little black boys and girls, of whose presence I was till then ignorant. They ran from the coverts, and assembled near the front of the only cottage visible to my eye. A tall elderly negro man came out, and took his seat on a mound of turf, a few feet from the cottage; he was followed by a lad, about twenty years of age, who bore in his hand a formidable cow-skin. For the information of my readers, I must observe that a cow-skin is a large whip, made like a riding whip out of the hide of the hippopotamus, or sea-cow, and is proverbial for the severity of punishment it is capable of inflicting. After the executioner, came, with slow and measured steps, the poor little culprits, five boys and three girls, who, with most rueful faces, ranged themselves rank and file, before the old man.I soon perceived that the hands were turned up for punishment; but the nature of the offence I had yet to learn; nor did I know whether any order had been given to strip. With the boys this would have been supererogatory, as they were quite naked. The female children had on cotton chemises, which they slowly and reluctantly rolled up, until they had gathered them close under their armpits.The old man then ordered the eldest boy to begin his Pater Noster; and simultaneously the whipper-in elevated his cow-skin by way of encouragement. The poor boy watched it, out of the corner of his eye, and then began, “Pattery Nobstur, qui, qui, qui—” (here he received a most severe lash from the cow-skin bearer)—“is in silly,” roared the boy, as if the continuation had been expelled from his mouth by the application of external force in an opposite direction—“sancty fisheter nom tum, adveny regnum tum, fi notun tas, ta ti, tu, terror,” roared the poor fellow, as he saw the lash descending on his defenceless back.“Terror, indeed,” thought I.“Pannum Nossum quotditty hamminum da nobs holyday, e missy nobs, debitty nossa si cut nos demitti missibus debetenibas nossimus e, ne, nos hem-duckam in, in, in, temptationemum, sed lilibery nos a ma-ma—” Here a heavy lash brought the very Oh! that was “caret” to complete the sentence.My readers are not to suppose that the rest of the class acquitted themselves with as much ability as their leader, who, compared to them, was perfectly erudite; the others received a lash for every word, or nearly so the boys were first disposed of, in order, I suppose that they might have the full benefit of the applicant’s muscles; while the poor girls had the additional pleasure of witnessing the castigation until their turn came; and that they were aware of what awaited them was evident, from the previous arrangement and disposition of dress, at the commencement of the entertainment. The girls accordingly came up one after another to say their Ave Maria, as more consonant to their sex; but I could scarcely contain my rage when the rascally cow-skin was applied to them, or my laughter when, smarting under its lash, they exclaimed, “Benedicta Mulieribus,” applying their little hands with immoderate pressure to the afflicted part.I could have found in my heart to have wrested the whip out of the hands of the young negro, and applied it with all my might to him, and his old villain of a master, and father of these poor children, as I soon found he was. My patience wasalmostgone when the second girl received a lash for her “Plena Gratia.” She screamed, and danced, and lifted up her poor legs in agony, rubbing herself on her “west” side, as the Philadelphia ladies call it, with as much assiduity as if it had been one of those cases in which friction is prescribed by the faculty.But the climax was yet to come. A grand stage effect was to be produced before the falling of the curtain. The youngest girl was so defective in her lesson that not one word could be extracted from her, even by the cow-skin; nothing but piercing shrieks, enough to make my heart bleed, could the poor victim utter. Irritated by the child’s want of capacity to repeat by rote what she could not understand, the old man darted from his seat, and struck her senseless to the ground.I could bear no more. My first impulse was to wrest the cow-skin from the negro’s hand, and revenge the poor bleeding child as she lay motionless on the ground, but a moment’s reflection convinced me that such a step would only have brought down a double weight of punishment on the victims when I was gone; so, catching up my hat, I turned away with disgust, and walked slowly towards the town and bay of Port Praya, reflecting as I went along what pleasant ideas the poor creatures must entertain of religion, when the name of God and of the cow-skin were invariably associated in their minds. I began to parody one of Watts’s hymns—“Lord! how delightful ’tis to seeA whole assembly worship thee.”The indignation I felt against this barbarous and ignorant negro was not unmingled with some painful recollections of my own younger days, when, in a Christian and Protestant country, the Bible and Prayer-book had been made objects of terror to my mind; tasks greater than my capacity could compass, and floggings in proportion, were not calculated to forward the cause of religious instruction in the mind of an obstinate boy.Reaching the water-side, I duly embarked on board of my slaver; and the next day sailed for England. We had a favourable passage until we reached the chops of the Channel, when a gale of wind from the north-east caught us, and drove us down so far to the southward that the prize-master found himself under the necessity of putting into Bordeaux to refit, and to replenish his water.I was not sorry for this, as I was tired of the company of this officer, who was both illiterate and ill-natured, neither a sailor nor a gentleman. Like many others in the service, who are most loud in their complaints for the want of promotion, I considered that even in his present rank he was what we called aking’s hard bargain—thatis, not worth his salt; and promoting men of his stamp would only have been picking the pocket of the country. As soon, therefore, as we had anchored in the Gironde, off the city of Bordeaux, and had been visited by the proper authorities, I quitted the vessel and her captain, and went on shore.Taking up my abode at the Hotel d’Angleterre, my first care was to order a good dinner; and having despatched that, and a bottle of Vin de Beaune (which, by-the-by, I strongly recommend to all travellers, if they can get it, for I am no bad judge), I asked myvalet de placehow I was to dispose of myself for the remainder of the evening.“Mais, monsieur,” said he, “il faut aller au spectacle.”“Allons,” said I; and in a few minutes I was seated in the stage-box of the handsomest theatre in the world.What strange events—what unexpected meetings and sudden separations are sailors liable to—what sudden transitions from grief to joy, from joy to grief—from want to affluence, from affluence to want! All this the history of my life, for the last six months, will fully illustrate.

They turned into a long and wide street, into which not a single living figure appeared to break the perspective. Solitude is never so overpowering as when it exists among the works of man. In old woods, or on the tops of mountains, it is graceful and benignant, for it is a home; but where thick dwellings are, it wears a ghost-like aspect.Inesilla.

They turned into a long and wide street, into which not a single living figure appeared to break the perspective. Solitude is never so overpowering as when it exists among the works of man. In old woods, or on the tops of mountains, it is graceful and benignant, for it is a home; but where thick dwellings are, it wears a ghost-like aspect.Inesilla.

We were ordered to look-out for the American squadron that had done so much mischief to our trade; and directed our course, for this purpose, to the coast of Africa. We had been out about ten days, when a vessel was seen from the mast-head. We were at that time within about one hundred and eighty leagues of the Cape de Verd Islands. We set all sail in chase, and soon made her out to be a large frigate, who seemed to have no objection to the meeting, but evidently tried her rate of sailing with us occasionally: her behaviour left us no doubt that she was an American frigate, and we cleared for action.

The captain, I believe, had never been in a sea-fight, or if he had, he had entirely forgotten all he had learned; for which reason, in order to refresh his memory, he laid upon the capstan-head the famous epitome of John Hamilton Moore, now obsolete, but held at that time to be one of the most luminous authors who had ever treated on maritime affairs, John, who certainly gives a great deal of advice on every subject, has, amongst other valuable directions, told us how to bring a ship into action according to the best and most approved methods, and how to take your enemy afterwards if you can. But the said John must have thought red-hot shot could be heated by a process somewhat similar to that by which he heated his own nose, or he must entirely have forgotten “the manners and customs in such cases used at sea,” for he recommends, as a prelude or first course to the entertainment, a good dose of red-hot shot, served up the moment the guests are assembled; but does not tell us where the said dishes are to be cooked. No doubt whatever that a broadside composed of such ingredients, would be a great desideratum in favour of a victory, especially if the enemy should happen to have none of his own to give in return.

So thought his lordship, who, walking up to the first lieutenant, said:—

“Mr Thingamy, don’t you think red-hot what-do-ye-call-ums should be given in the first broadside to that thingamybob?”

“Red-hot shot, do you mean, my lord?”

“Yes,” said his lordship; “don’t you think they would settle his hash?”

“Where the devil are we to get them, my lord?” said the first lieutenant, who was not the same that wanted to fight me for saying he was as clever a fellow as the captain: that man had been unshipped by the machinations of Toady.

“Very true,” said his lordship.

We now approached the stranger very fast, when to our great mortification she proved to be an English frigate; made the private signal; it was answered; showed her number, we showed ours, and her captain being junior officer came on board, to pay his respects and show his order. He was three weeks from England, brought news of a peace with France, and, among other treats, a navy list, which, next to bottle of London porter, is the greatest luxury to a sea officer in a foreign climate.

Greedily did we all run over this interesting little book, and among the names of the new-made commanders, I was overjoyed to find my own: the last on the list, to be sure, but that I cared not for. I received the congratulations of my mess-mates. We parted company with the stranger, and steered for the island of St. Jago, our captain intending to complete his water in Port Praya Bay, previous to a long cruise after the American squadron.

We found here a slave-vessel in charge of a naval officer, bound to England; and I thought this a good opportunity to quit, not being over anxious to serve as a lieutenant when I knew I was a commander. I was also particularly anxious to return to England for many reasons, the hand of my dear Emily standing at the head of them. I therefore requested the captain’s permission to quit the ship; and as he wished to give an acting order to one of his own followers, he consented. I took my leave of all my mess-mates, and of my captain, who, though an unfeeling coxcomb, and no sailor, certainly had some good points about him: in fact, his lordship was a gentleman; and had his ship fallen in with an enemy, she would have been well fought, as he had good officers, was sufficiently aware of his own incapability, would take advice, and as a man of undaunted bravery was not to be surpassed in the service.

On the third day after our arrival the frigate sailed. I went on board the slaver, which had no slaves on board except four to assist in working the vessel; she was in a filthy state, and there was no inn on shore, and of course no remedy. Port Praya is the only good anchorage in the island; the old town of St. Jago was deserted, in consequence of their being only an open roadstead before it, very unsafe for vessels to lie it. The town of Port Praya is a miserable assemblage of mud huts; the governor’s house, and one more, are better built, but they are not so comfortable as a cottage in England. There were not ten Portuguese on the island, and above ten thousand blacks, all originally slaves; and yet everything was peaceable, although fresh arrivals of slaves came every day.

It was easy to distinguish the different races; the Yatoffes are tall men, not very stoutly built; most of them are soldiers. I have seen ten of them standing together, the lowest not less than six feet two or three inches. The Foulahs, from the Ashantee country are another race; they are powerful and muscular, ill-featured, badly disposed, and treacherous. The Mandingoes are a smaller race than the others, but they are well disposed and tractable.

This island of slaves is kept in subjection by slaves only who are enrolled as soldiers, miserably equipped; a cap and a jacket were all they owed to art; nature provided the rest of their uniform. The governor’s orderly alone sported a pair of trousers, and these were on permanent duty, being transferred from one to the other as their turn for that service came on.

I paid my respects to the governor, who, although a Portuguese, chose to follow the fashion of the island, and was as black as most of his subjects. After a few French compliments, I took my leave. I was curious to see the old town of St. Jago which had been abandoned; and after a hot walk of two hours over uncultivated ground covered with fine goats, which are the staple of the island, I reached the desolate spot.

It was melancholy to behold; it seemed as if the human race were extinct. The town was built on a wide ravine, running down to the sea; the houses were of stone, and handsome; the streets regular and paved, which proves that it had formerly been a place of some importance; but it is surprising that a spot so barren as this island generally is, should ever have had any mercantile prosperity. Whatever it did enjoy, I should conceive must have been anterior to the Portuguese having sailed round the Cape of Good Hope: and the solidity and even elegance of construction among the buildings justifies the supposition.

The walls were massive and remained entire; the churches were numerous, but the roofs of them and the dwelling-houses had mostly fallen in. Trees had grown to a considerable height in the midst of the streets, piercing through the pavements and raising the stones on each side; and the convent gardens were a mere wilderness. The cocoa-nut had thrust its head through many a roof, and its long stems through the tops of the houses; the banana luxuriated out of the windows. The only inhabitants of a town capable of containing ten thousand inhabitants, were a few friars, who resided in a miserable ruin which had once been a beautiful convent. They were the first negro friars I had ever seen; their cowls were as black as their faces, and their hair grey and woolly. I concluded they had adopted this mode of life as being the laziest; but I could not discover by what means they could gain a livelihood, for there were none to give them anything in charity.

The appearance of these poor men added infinitely to the necromantic character of the whole melancholy scene. There was a beauty, a loveliness, in these venerable ruins, which delighted me. There was a solemn silence in the town; but there was a small, still voice, that said to me,—“London may one day be the same—and Paris; and you and your children’s children will all have lived, and had their loves and adventures; but who will the wretched man be that shall sit on the summit of Primrose Hill, and look down upon the desolation of the mighty city, as you, from this little eminence, behold the once flourishing town of St. Jago?”

The goats were browsing on the side of the hill, and the little kids frisking by their dams. “These,” thought I, “perhaps are the only food and nourishment of these poor friars.” I walked to Port Praya, and returned to my floating prison, the slave-ship. The officer who was conducting her home, as a prize, was not a pleasant man; I did not like him, and nothing passed between us but common civility. He was an old master’s mate, who had probably served his time thrice over; but having no merit of his own, and no friends to cause that defect to be overlooked, he had never obtained promotion: he therefore naturally looked on a young commander with envy. He had only given me a passage home from motives which he could not resist; first, because he was forced to obey the orders of my late captain; and, secondly, because my purse would supply the cabin with the necessary stock of refreshments, in the shape of fruit, poultry, and vegetables, which are to be procured at Port Praya; he was, therefore, under the necessity of enduring my company.

The vessel, I found, was not to sail on the following day, as he intended. I therefore took my gun at daybreak, and wandered with a guide, up the valleys, in search of thepintados, or Guinea fowl with which the island abounds; but they were so shy that I could never get a shot at them; and I returned over the hills, which my guide assured me was the shortest way. Tired with my walk, I was not sorry to arrive at a sheltered valley, where the palmetto and the plantain offer a friendly shade from the burning sun. The guide, with wonderful agility, mounted the cocoa-nut-tree, and threw down half a dozen nuts. They were green, and their milk I thought the most refreshing and delicious draught I had ever taken.

The vesper bells at Port Praya were now summoning the poor black friars to their devotion; and a stir and bustle appeared among the little black boys and girls, of whose presence I was till then ignorant. They ran from the coverts, and assembled near the front of the only cottage visible to my eye. A tall elderly negro man came out, and took his seat on a mound of turf, a few feet from the cottage; he was followed by a lad, about twenty years of age, who bore in his hand a formidable cow-skin. For the information of my readers, I must observe that a cow-skin is a large whip, made like a riding whip out of the hide of the hippopotamus, or sea-cow, and is proverbial for the severity of punishment it is capable of inflicting. After the executioner, came, with slow and measured steps, the poor little culprits, five boys and three girls, who, with most rueful faces, ranged themselves rank and file, before the old man.

I soon perceived that the hands were turned up for punishment; but the nature of the offence I had yet to learn; nor did I know whether any order had been given to strip. With the boys this would have been supererogatory, as they were quite naked. The female children had on cotton chemises, which they slowly and reluctantly rolled up, until they had gathered them close under their armpits.

The old man then ordered the eldest boy to begin his Pater Noster; and simultaneously the whipper-in elevated his cow-skin by way of encouragement. The poor boy watched it, out of the corner of his eye, and then began, “Pattery Nobstur, qui, qui, qui—” (here he received a most severe lash from the cow-skin bearer)—“is in silly,” roared the boy, as if the continuation had been expelled from his mouth by the application of external force in an opposite direction—“sancty fisheter nom tum, adveny regnum tum, fi notun tas, ta ti, tu, terror,” roared the poor fellow, as he saw the lash descending on his defenceless back.

“Terror, indeed,” thought I.

“Pannum Nossum quotditty hamminum da nobs holyday, e missy nobs, debitty nossa si cut nos demitti missibus debetenibas nossimus e, ne, nos hem-duckam in, in, in, temptationemum, sed lilibery nos a ma-ma—” Here a heavy lash brought the very Oh! that was “caret” to complete the sentence.

My readers are not to suppose that the rest of the class acquitted themselves with as much ability as their leader, who, compared to them, was perfectly erudite; the others received a lash for every word, or nearly so the boys were first disposed of, in order, I suppose that they might have the full benefit of the applicant’s muscles; while the poor girls had the additional pleasure of witnessing the castigation until their turn came; and that they were aware of what awaited them was evident, from the previous arrangement and disposition of dress, at the commencement of the entertainment. The girls accordingly came up one after another to say their Ave Maria, as more consonant to their sex; but I could scarcely contain my rage when the rascally cow-skin was applied to them, or my laughter when, smarting under its lash, they exclaimed, “Benedicta Mulieribus,” applying their little hands with immoderate pressure to the afflicted part.

I could have found in my heart to have wrested the whip out of the hands of the young negro, and applied it with all my might to him, and his old villain of a master, and father of these poor children, as I soon found he was. My patience wasalmostgone when the second girl received a lash for her “Plena Gratia.” She screamed, and danced, and lifted up her poor legs in agony, rubbing herself on her “west” side, as the Philadelphia ladies call it, with as much assiduity as if it had been one of those cases in which friction is prescribed by the faculty.

But the climax was yet to come. A grand stage effect was to be produced before the falling of the curtain. The youngest girl was so defective in her lesson that not one word could be extracted from her, even by the cow-skin; nothing but piercing shrieks, enough to make my heart bleed, could the poor victim utter. Irritated by the child’s want of capacity to repeat by rote what she could not understand, the old man darted from his seat, and struck her senseless to the ground.

I could bear no more. My first impulse was to wrest the cow-skin from the negro’s hand, and revenge the poor bleeding child as she lay motionless on the ground, but a moment’s reflection convinced me that such a step would only have brought down a double weight of punishment on the victims when I was gone; so, catching up my hat, I turned away with disgust, and walked slowly towards the town and bay of Port Praya, reflecting as I went along what pleasant ideas the poor creatures must entertain of religion, when the name of God and of the cow-skin were invariably associated in their minds. I began to parody one of Watts’s hymns—

“Lord! how delightful ’tis to seeA whole assembly worship thee.”

“Lord! how delightful ’tis to seeA whole assembly worship thee.”

The indignation I felt against this barbarous and ignorant negro was not unmingled with some painful recollections of my own younger days, when, in a Christian and Protestant country, the Bible and Prayer-book had been made objects of terror to my mind; tasks greater than my capacity could compass, and floggings in proportion, were not calculated to forward the cause of religious instruction in the mind of an obstinate boy.

Reaching the water-side, I duly embarked on board of my slaver; and the next day sailed for England. We had a favourable passage until we reached the chops of the Channel, when a gale of wind from the north-east caught us, and drove us down so far to the southward that the prize-master found himself under the necessity of putting into Bordeaux to refit, and to replenish his water.

I was not sorry for this, as I was tired of the company of this officer, who was both illiterate and ill-natured, neither a sailor nor a gentleman. Like many others in the service, who are most loud in their complaints for the want of promotion, I considered that even in his present rank he was what we called aking’s hard bargain—thatis, not worth his salt; and promoting men of his stamp would only have been picking the pocket of the country. As soon, therefore, as we had anchored in the Gironde, off the city of Bordeaux, and had been visited by the proper authorities, I quitted the vessel and her captain, and went on shore.

Taking up my abode at the Hotel d’Angleterre, my first care was to order a good dinner; and having despatched that, and a bottle of Vin de Beaune (which, by-the-by, I strongly recommend to all travellers, if they can get it, for I am no bad judge), I asked myvalet de placehow I was to dispose of myself for the remainder of the evening.

“Mais, monsieur,” said he, “il faut aller au spectacle.”

“Allons,” said I; and in a few minutes I was seated in the stage-box of the handsomest theatre in the world.

What strange events—what unexpected meetings and sudden separations are sailors liable to—what sudden transitions from grief to joy, from joy to grief—from want to affluence, from affluence to want! All this the history of my life, for the last six months, will fully illustrate.

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