Chapter Twenty Five.

Chapter Twenty Five.In which the old proverb is illustrated, “that you must not count your chickens before they are hatched.”The first lieutenant of theAurorawas a very good officer in many respects, but, as a midshipman, he had contracted the habit of putting his hands in his pockets, and could never keep them out, even when the ship was in a gale of wind; and hands are of some use in a heavy lurch. He had more than once received serious injury from falling on these occasions, but habit was too powerful; and, although he had once broken his leg by falling down the hatchway, and had moreover a large scar on his forehead, received from being thrown to leeward against one of the guns, he still continued the practice; indeed, it was said that once, when it was necessary for him to go aloft, he had actually taken the two first rounds of the Jacob’s ladder without withdrawing them, until, losing his balance, he discovered that it was not quite so easy to go aloft with his hands in his pockets. In fact, there was no getting up his hands, even when all hands were turned up. He had another peculiarity, which was, that he had taken a peculiar fancy to a quack medicine, called Enouy’s Universal Medicine for all Mankind; and Mr Pottyfar was convinced in his own mind that the label was no libel, except from the greatness of its truth. In his opinion, it cured everything, and he spent one of his quarterly bills every year in bottles of this stuff; which he not only took himself every time he was unwell, but occasionally when quite well, to prevent his falling sick. He recommended it to everybody in the ship, and nothing pleased him so much as to give a dose of it to every one who could be persuaded to take it.The officers laughed at him, but it was generally behind his back, for he became very angry if contradicted upon this one point, upon which he certainly might be considered to be a little cracked. He was indefatigable in making proselytes to his creed, and expatiated upon the virtues of the medicine for an hour running, proving the truth of his assertion by a pamphlet, which, with his hands, he always carried in his trousers pocket.Jack reported himself when he came on board, and Mr Pottyfar, who was on the quarter-deck at the time, expressed a hope that Mr Easy would take his share of the duty, now that he had had such a spell on shore; to which Jack very graciously acceded, and then went down below, where he found Gascoigne and his new messmates, with most of whom he was already acquainted.“Well, Easy,” said Gascoigne, “have you had enough of the shore?”“Quite,” replied Jack, recollecting that after the events of the night before he was just as well on board; “I don’t intend to ask for any more leave.”“Perhaps it’s quite as well, for Mr Pottyfar is not very liberal on that score, I can tell you; there is but one way of getting leave from him.”“Indeed,” replied Jack; “and what is that?”“You must pretend that you are not well, take some of his quack medicine, and then he will allow you a run on shore to work it off.”“Oh! that’s it, is it? well then, as soon as we anchor in Valette, I’ll go through a regular course, but not till then.”“It ought to suit you, Jack; it’s an equality medicine; cures one disorder just as well as the other.”“Or kills—which levels all the patients. You’re right, Gascoigne, I must patronise that stuff—for more reasons than one. Who was that person on deck in mufti?”“The mufti, Jack? in other words, the chaplain of the ship; but he’s a prime sailor, nevertheless.”“How’s that?”“Why, he was brought up on the quarter-deck, served his time, was acting lieutenant for two years, and then, somehow or other, he bore up for the church.”“Indeed—what were his reasons?”“No one knows—but they say he has been unhappy ever since.”“Why so?”“Because he did a very foolish thing, which cannot now be remedied. He supposed at the time that he would make a good parson, and now that he has long got over his fit, he finds himself wholly unfit for it—he is still the officer in heart, and is always struggling with his natural bent, which is very contrary to what a parson should feel.”“Why don’t they allow parsons to be broke by a court-martial, and turned out of the service, or to resign their commissions, like other people?”“It won’t do, Jack—they serve Heaven—there’s a difference between that and serving his Majesty.”“Well, I don’t understand these things. When do we sail?”“The day after to-morrow.”“To join the fleet off Toulon?”“Yes; but I suppose we shall be driven on the Spanish coast going there. I never knew a man-of-war that was not.”“No; wind always blows from the South going up the Mediterranean.”“Perhaps you’ll take another prize, Jack—mind you don’t go away without the articles of war.”“I won’t go away without Mesty, if I can help it. Oh, dear, how abominable a midshipman’s berth is after a long run on shore! I positively must go on deck and look at the shore, if I can do nothing else.”“Why, ten minutes ago you had had enough of it.”“Yes, but ten minutes here has made me feel quite sick. I shall go to the first lieutenant for a dose.”“I say, Easy, we must both be physicked on the same day.”“To be sure; but stop till we get to Malta.”Jack went on deck, made acquaintance with the chaplain and some of the officers whom he had not known, then climbed up into the maintop, where he took a seat on the armolest, and, as he looked at the shore, thought over the events that had passed, until Agnes came to his memory, and he thought only of her. When a mid is in love, he always goes aloft to think of the object of his affection; why, I don’t know, except that his reverie is not so likely to be disturbed by an order from a superior officer.TheAurorasailed on the second day, and with a fine breeze, stood across, making as much northing as easting; the consequence was, that one fine morning they saw the Spanish coast before they saw the Toulon fleet. Mr Pottyfar took his hands out of his pockets, because he could not examine the coast through a telescope without so doing; but this, it is said, was the first time that he had done so on the quarter-deck from the day that the ship had sailed from Port Mahon. Captain Wilson was also occupied with his telescope, so were many of the officers and midshipmen, and the men at the mast-heads used their eyes, but there was nothing but a few small fishing-boats to be seen. So they all went down to breakfast, as the ship was hove-to close in with the land.“What will Easy bet,” said one of the midshipmen, “that we don’t see a prize to-day?”“I will not bet that we do not see a vessel—but I’ll bet you what you please, that we do not take one before twelve o’clock at night.”“No, no, that won’t do—just let the teapot travel over this way, for it’s my forenoon watch.”“It’s a fine morning,” observed one of the mates, of the name of Martin; “but I’ve a notion it won’t be a fine evening.”“Why not?” inquired another.“I’ve now been eight years in the Mediterranean, and know something about the weather. There’s a watery sky, and the wind is very steady. If we are not under double-reefed topsails to-night, say I’m no conjuror.”“That you will be, all the same, if we are under bare poles,” said another.“You’re devilish free with your tongue, my youngster. Easy, pull his ears for me.”“Pull them easy, Jack, then,” said the boy, laughing.“All hands make sail!” now resounded at the hatchways.“There they are, depend upon it,” cried Gascoigne, catching up his hat and bolting out of the berth, followed by all the others except Martin, who had just been relieved, and thought that his presence in the waist might be dispensed with for the short time, at least, which it took him to swallow a cup of tea.It was very true; a galliot and four lateen vessels had just made their appearance round the easternmost point, and, as soon as they observed the frigate, had hauled their wind. In a minute theAurorawas under a press of canvas, and the telescopes were all directed to the vessels.“All deeply laden, sir,” observed Mr Hawkins, the chaplain; “how the topsail of the galliot is scored!”“They have a fresh breeze just now,” observed Captain Wilson to the first lieutenant.“Yes, sir, and it’s coming down fast.”“Hands by the royal halyards, there.”TheAuroracareened with the canvas to the rapidly increasing breeze.“Top-gallant sheet and halyards.”“Luff you may, quarter-master; luff, I tell you. A small pull of that weather maintop-gallant brace—that will do,” said the master.“Top-men aloft there;—stand by to clew up the royals—and, Captain Wilson, shall we take them in?—I’m afraid of that pole—it bends now like a coach-whip,” said Mr Pottyfar, looking up aloft, with his hands in both pockets.“In royals—lower away.”“They are going about, sir,” said the second lieutenant, Mr Haswell.“Look out,” observed the chaplain, “it’s coming.” Again the breeze increased, and the frigate was borne down.“Hands reef topsails in stays, Mr Pottyfar.”“Ay, ay, sir—’bout ship.”The helm was put down and the topsails lowered and reefed in stays.“Very well, my lads, very well indeed,” said Captain Wilson.Again the topsails were hoisted and top-gallant sheets home. It was a strong breeze, although the water was smooth, and theAuroradashed through at the rate of eight miles an hour, with her weather leeches lifting.“Didn’t I tell you so?” said Martin to his mess-mates on the gangway; “but there’s more yet, my boys.”“We must take the top-gallant sails off her,” said Captain Wilson, looking aloft—for the frigate now careened to her bearings, and the wind was increasing and squally. “Try them a little longer;” but another squall came suddenly—the halyards were lowered, and the sails clewed up and furled.In the meantime the frigate had rapidly gained upon the vessels, which still carried on every stitch of canvas, making short tacks in-shore. TheAurorawas again put about with her head towards them, and they were not two points on her weather bow. The sky, which had been clear in the morning, was now overcast, the sun was obscured with opaque white clouds, and the sea was rising fast. Another ten minutes, and then they were under double-reefed topsails, and the squalls were accompanied with heavy rain. The frigate now dashed through the waves, foaming in her course and straining under the press of sail. The horizon was so thick that the vessels ahead were no longer to be seen.“We shall have it, I expect,” said Captain Wilson.“Didn’t I say so?” observed Martin to Gascoigne. “We take no prizes this day, depend upon it.”“We must have another hand to the wheel, sir, if you please,” said the quarter-master, who was assisting the helmsman.Mr Pottyfar, with his hands concealed as usual, stood by the capstern. “I fear, sir, we cannot carry the mainsail much longer.”“No,” observed the chaplain, “I was thinking so.”“Captain Wilson, if you please, we are very close in,” said the master: “don’t you think we had better go about?”“Yes, Mr Jones. Hands about ship—and—yes, by heavens, we must!—up mainsail.”The mainsail was taken off, and the frigate appeared to be immediately relieved. She no longer jerked and plunged as before.“We’re very near the land, Captain Wilson; thick as it is, I think I can make out the loom of it—shall we wear round, sir?” continued the master.“Yes—hands wear ship—put the helm up.”It was but just in time, for, as the frigate flew round, describing a circle, as she payed off before the wind, they could perceive the breakers lashing the precipitous coast not two cables’ length from them.“I had no idea we were so near,” observed the captain, compressing his lips—“can they see anything of those vessels?”“I have not seen them this quarter of an hour, sir,” replied the signalman, protecting his glass from the rain under his jacket.“How’s her head now, quarter-master?”“South south-east, sir.”The sky now assumed a different appearance—the white clouds had been exchanged for others dark and murky, the wind roared at intervals, and the rain came down in torrents. Captain Wilson went down into the cabin to examine the barometer.“The barometer has risen,” said he on his return on deck. “Is the wind steady?”“No, sir, she’s up and off three points.”“This will end in a south-wester.”The wet and heavy sails now flapped from the shifting of the wind.“Up with the helm, quarter-master.”“Up it is—she’s off to south-by-west.”The wind lulled, the rain came down in a deluge—for a minute it was quite calm, and the frigate was on an even keel.“Man the braces. We shall be taken aback directly, depend upon it.”The braces were hardly stretched along before this was the case. The wind flew round to the south-west with a loud roar, and it was fortunate that they were prepared—the yards were braced round, and the master asked the captain what course they were to steer.“We must give it up,” observed Captain Wilson, holding on by the belaying pin. “Shape our course for Cape Sicie, Mr Jones.”And theAuroraflew before the gale, under her foresail and topsails close reefed. The weather was now so thick that nothing could be observed twenty yards from the vessel; the thunder pealed, and the lightning darted in every direction over the dark expanse. The watch was called as soon as the sails were trimmed, and all who could went below, wet, uncomfortable, and disappointed.“What an old Jonah you are, Martin,” said Gascoigne.“Yes, I am,” replied he; “but we have the worst to come yet, in my opinion. I recollect, not two hundred miles from where we are now, we had just such a gale in theFavourite, and we as nearly went down, when—”At this moment a tremendous noise was heard above, a shock was felt throughout the whole ship, which trembled fore and aft as if it were about to fall into pieces; loud shrieks were followed by plaintive cries, the lower deck was filled with smoke, and the frigate was down on her beam ends. Without exchanging a word, the whole of the occupants of the berth flew out, and were up the hatchway, not knowing what to think, but convinced that some dreadful accident had taken place.On their gaining the deck it was at once explained; the foremast of the frigate had been struck by lightning, had been riven into several pieces, and had fallen over the larboard bow, carrying with it the main topmast and jib-boom. The jagged stump of the foremast was in flames, and burned brightly, notwithstanding the rain fell in torrents. The ship, as soon as the foremast and main topmast had gone overboard, broached-to furiously, throwing the men over the wheel and dashing them senseless against the carronades; the forecastle, the fore part of the main deck, and even the lower deck, were spread with men, either killed or seriously wounded or insensible from the electric shock. The frigate was on her beam ends, and the sea broke furiously over her; all was dark as pitch, except the light from the blazing stump of the foremast, appearing like a torch, held up by the wild demons of the storm, or when occasionally the gleaming lightning cast a momentary glare, threatening every moment to repeat its attack upon the vessel, while the deafening thunder burst almost on their devoted heads. All was dismay and confusion for a minute or two: at last Captain Wilson, who had himself lost his sight for a short time, called for the carpenter and axes—they climbed up, that is, two or three of them, and he pointed to the mizzen-mast; the master was also there, and he cut loose the axes for the seamen to use; in a few minutes the mizzen-mast fell over the quarter, and the helm being put hard up, the frigate payed off and slowly righted. But the horror of the scene was not yet over. The boatswain, who had been on the forecastle, had been led below, for his vision was gone for ever. The men who lay scattered about had been examined, and they were assisting them down to the care of the surgeon, when the cry of “Fire!” issued from the lower deck. The ship had taken fire at the coal-hole and carpenter’s storeroom, and the smoke that now ascended was intense.“Call the drummer,” said Captain Wilson, “and let him beat to quarters—all hands to their stations—let the pumps be rigged and the buckets passed along. Mr Martin, see that the wounded men are taken down below. Where’s Mr Haswell? Mr Pottyfar, station the men to pass the water on by hand on the lower deck. I will go there myself. Mr Jones, take charge of the ship.”Pottyfar, who actually had taken his hands out of his pockets, hastened down to comply with the captain’s orders on the main deck, as Captain Wilson descended to the deck below.“I say, Jack, this is very different from this morning,” observed Gascoigne.“Yes,” replied Jack, “so it is; but I say, Gascoigne, what’s the best thing to do?—when the chimney’s on fire on shore, they put a wet blanket over it.”“Yes,” replied Gascoigne; “but when the coal-hole’s on fire on board, they will not find that sufficient.”“At all events, wet blankets must be a good thing, Ned, so let us pull out the hammocks; cut the lanyards and get some out—we can but offer them, you know, and if they do no good, at least it will show our zeal.”“Yes, Jack, and I think when they turn in again, those whose blankets you take will agree with you that zeal makes the service very uncomfortable. However, I think you are right.”The two midshipmen collected three or four hands, and in a very short time they had more blankets than they could carry—there was no trouble in wetting them, for the main deck was afloat—and followed by the men they had collected, Easy and Gascoigne went down with large bundles in their arms to where Captain Wilson was giving directions to the men.“Excellent, Mr Easy! excellent, Mr Gascoigne;” said Captain Wilson. “Come, my lads, throw them over now, and stamp upon them well;” the men’s jackets and the captain’s coat had already been sacrificed to the same object.Easy called the other midshipmen, and they went up for a further supply; but there was no occasion, the fire had been smothered: still the danger had been so great that the fore magazine had been floated. During all this, which lasted perhaps a quarter of an hour, the frigate had rolled gunwale under, and many were the accidents which occurred. At last all danger from fire had ceased, and the men were ordered to return to their quarters, when three officers and forty-seven men were found absent—seven of them were dead—most of them were already under the care of the surgeon, but some were still lying in the scuppers.No one had been more active or more brave during this time of danger than Mr Hawkins the chaplain. He was everywhere, and when Captain Wilson went down to put out the fire he was there, encouraging the men and exerting himself most gallantly. He and Mesty came aft when all was over, one just as black as the other. The chaplain sat down and wrung his hands—“God forgive me!” said he, “God forgive me!”“Why so, sir?” said Easy, who stood near, “I am sure you need not be ashamed of what you have done.”“No, no, not ashamed of what I’ve done; but, Mr Easy—I have sworn so, sworn such oaths at the men in my haste—I, the chaplain! God forgive me!—I meant nothing.” It was very true that Mr Hawkins had sworn a great deal during his exertions, but he was at that time the quarter-deck officer and not the chaplain; the example to the men and his gallantry had been most serviceable.“Indeed, sir,” said Easy, who saw that the chaplain was in great tribulation, and hoped to pacify him, “I was certainly not there all the time, but I only heard you say, ‘God bless you, my men! be smart,’ and so on; surely, that is not swearing.”“Was itthatI said, Mr Easy, are you sure? I really had an idea that I had damned them all in heaps, as some of them deserved—no, no, not deserved. Did I really bless them—nothing but bless them?”“Yes, sir,” said Mesty, who perceived what Jack wanted; “it was nothing, I assure you, but ‘God bless you, Captain Wilson!—Bless your heart, my good men!—Bless the king!’ and so on. You do noting but shower down blessing and wet blanket.”“I told you so,” said Jack.“Well, Mr Easy, you’ve made me very happy,” replied the chaplain; “I was afraid it was otherwise.”So indeed it was, for the chaplain had sworn like a boatswain; but, as Jack and Mesty had turned all his curses into blessings, the poor man gave himself absolution, and shaking hands with Jack, hoped he would come down into the gun-room and take a glass of grog; nor did he forget Mesty, who received a good allowance at the gun-room door, to which Jack gladly consented, as the rum in the middy’s berth had all been exhausted after the rainy morning—but Jack was interrupted in his third glass, by somebody telling him the captain wanted to speak with Mr Hawkins and with him.Jack went up and found the captain on the quarter-deck with the officers.“Mr Easy,” said Captain Wilson, “I have sent for you, Mr Hawkins, and Mr Gascoigne, to thank you on the quarter-deck, for your exertions and presence of mind on this trying occasion.” Mr Hawkins made a bow. Gascoigne said nothing, but he thought of having extra leave when they arrived at Malta. Jack felt inclined to make a speech, and began something about when there was danger that it levelled every one to an equality even on board of a man-of-war.“By no means, Mr Easy,” replied Captain Wilson, “it does the very contrary, for it proves which is the best man, and those who are the best raise themselves at once above the rest.”Jack was very much inclined to argue the point, but he took the compliment and held his tongue, which was the wisest thing he could have done; so he made his bow, and was about to go down into the midshipmen’s berth when the frigate was pooped by a tremendous sea, which washed all those who did not hold on down into the waist. Jack was among the number, and naturally catching at the first object which touched him, he caught hold of the chaplain by the leg, who commenced swearing most terribly, but before he could finish the oath, the water, which had burst into the cabin through the windows—for the dead-lights, in the confusion, had not yet been shipped—burst out the cross bulkheads, sweeping like a torrent the marine, the cabin-door, and everything else in its force, and floating Jack and the chaplain with several others down the main hatchway on to the lower deck. The lower deck being also full of water, men and chests were rolling and tossing about, and Jack was sometimes in company with the chaplain, and at other times separated; at last they both recovered their legs, and gained the midshipmen’s berth, which, although afloat, was still a haven of security. Mr Hawkins spluttered and spit, and so did Jack, until he began to laugh.“This is very trying, Mr Easy,” said the chaplain: “very trying indeed to the temper. I hope I have not sworn—I hope not.”“Not a word,” said Jack—“I was close to you all the time—you only said, ‘God preserve us!’”“Only that? I was afraid that I said ‘God damn it!’”“Quite a mistake, Mr Hawkins. Let’s go into the gun-room, and try to wash this salt water out of our mouths, and then I will tell you all you said, as far as I could hear it, word for word.”So Jack by this means got another glass of grog, which was very acceptable in his wet condition, and made himself very comfortable, while those on deck were putting on the dead-lights, and very busy setting the goose-wings of the mainsail, to prevent the frigate from being pooped a second time.

The first lieutenant of theAurorawas a very good officer in many respects, but, as a midshipman, he had contracted the habit of putting his hands in his pockets, and could never keep them out, even when the ship was in a gale of wind; and hands are of some use in a heavy lurch. He had more than once received serious injury from falling on these occasions, but habit was too powerful; and, although he had once broken his leg by falling down the hatchway, and had moreover a large scar on his forehead, received from being thrown to leeward against one of the guns, he still continued the practice; indeed, it was said that once, when it was necessary for him to go aloft, he had actually taken the two first rounds of the Jacob’s ladder without withdrawing them, until, losing his balance, he discovered that it was not quite so easy to go aloft with his hands in his pockets. In fact, there was no getting up his hands, even when all hands were turned up. He had another peculiarity, which was, that he had taken a peculiar fancy to a quack medicine, called Enouy’s Universal Medicine for all Mankind; and Mr Pottyfar was convinced in his own mind that the label was no libel, except from the greatness of its truth. In his opinion, it cured everything, and he spent one of his quarterly bills every year in bottles of this stuff; which he not only took himself every time he was unwell, but occasionally when quite well, to prevent his falling sick. He recommended it to everybody in the ship, and nothing pleased him so much as to give a dose of it to every one who could be persuaded to take it.

The officers laughed at him, but it was generally behind his back, for he became very angry if contradicted upon this one point, upon which he certainly might be considered to be a little cracked. He was indefatigable in making proselytes to his creed, and expatiated upon the virtues of the medicine for an hour running, proving the truth of his assertion by a pamphlet, which, with his hands, he always carried in his trousers pocket.

Jack reported himself when he came on board, and Mr Pottyfar, who was on the quarter-deck at the time, expressed a hope that Mr Easy would take his share of the duty, now that he had had such a spell on shore; to which Jack very graciously acceded, and then went down below, where he found Gascoigne and his new messmates, with most of whom he was already acquainted.

“Well, Easy,” said Gascoigne, “have you had enough of the shore?”

“Quite,” replied Jack, recollecting that after the events of the night before he was just as well on board; “I don’t intend to ask for any more leave.”

“Perhaps it’s quite as well, for Mr Pottyfar is not very liberal on that score, I can tell you; there is but one way of getting leave from him.”

“Indeed,” replied Jack; “and what is that?”

“You must pretend that you are not well, take some of his quack medicine, and then he will allow you a run on shore to work it off.”

“Oh! that’s it, is it? well then, as soon as we anchor in Valette, I’ll go through a regular course, but not till then.”

“It ought to suit you, Jack; it’s an equality medicine; cures one disorder just as well as the other.”

“Or kills—which levels all the patients. You’re right, Gascoigne, I must patronise that stuff—for more reasons than one. Who was that person on deck in mufti?”

“The mufti, Jack? in other words, the chaplain of the ship; but he’s a prime sailor, nevertheless.”

“How’s that?”

“Why, he was brought up on the quarter-deck, served his time, was acting lieutenant for two years, and then, somehow or other, he bore up for the church.”

“Indeed—what were his reasons?”

“No one knows—but they say he has been unhappy ever since.”

“Why so?”

“Because he did a very foolish thing, which cannot now be remedied. He supposed at the time that he would make a good parson, and now that he has long got over his fit, he finds himself wholly unfit for it—he is still the officer in heart, and is always struggling with his natural bent, which is very contrary to what a parson should feel.”

“Why don’t they allow parsons to be broke by a court-martial, and turned out of the service, or to resign their commissions, like other people?”

“It won’t do, Jack—they serve Heaven—there’s a difference between that and serving his Majesty.”

“Well, I don’t understand these things. When do we sail?”

“The day after to-morrow.”

“To join the fleet off Toulon?”

“Yes; but I suppose we shall be driven on the Spanish coast going there. I never knew a man-of-war that was not.”

“No; wind always blows from the South going up the Mediterranean.”

“Perhaps you’ll take another prize, Jack—mind you don’t go away without the articles of war.”

“I won’t go away without Mesty, if I can help it. Oh, dear, how abominable a midshipman’s berth is after a long run on shore! I positively must go on deck and look at the shore, if I can do nothing else.”

“Why, ten minutes ago you had had enough of it.”

“Yes, but ten minutes here has made me feel quite sick. I shall go to the first lieutenant for a dose.”

“I say, Easy, we must both be physicked on the same day.”

“To be sure; but stop till we get to Malta.”

Jack went on deck, made acquaintance with the chaplain and some of the officers whom he had not known, then climbed up into the maintop, where he took a seat on the armolest, and, as he looked at the shore, thought over the events that had passed, until Agnes came to his memory, and he thought only of her. When a mid is in love, he always goes aloft to think of the object of his affection; why, I don’t know, except that his reverie is not so likely to be disturbed by an order from a superior officer.

TheAurorasailed on the second day, and with a fine breeze, stood across, making as much northing as easting; the consequence was, that one fine morning they saw the Spanish coast before they saw the Toulon fleet. Mr Pottyfar took his hands out of his pockets, because he could not examine the coast through a telescope without so doing; but this, it is said, was the first time that he had done so on the quarter-deck from the day that the ship had sailed from Port Mahon. Captain Wilson was also occupied with his telescope, so were many of the officers and midshipmen, and the men at the mast-heads used their eyes, but there was nothing but a few small fishing-boats to be seen. So they all went down to breakfast, as the ship was hove-to close in with the land.

“What will Easy bet,” said one of the midshipmen, “that we don’t see a prize to-day?”

“I will not bet that we do not see a vessel—but I’ll bet you what you please, that we do not take one before twelve o’clock at night.”

“No, no, that won’t do—just let the teapot travel over this way, for it’s my forenoon watch.”

“It’s a fine morning,” observed one of the mates, of the name of Martin; “but I’ve a notion it won’t be a fine evening.”

“Why not?” inquired another.

“I’ve now been eight years in the Mediterranean, and know something about the weather. There’s a watery sky, and the wind is very steady. If we are not under double-reefed topsails to-night, say I’m no conjuror.”

“That you will be, all the same, if we are under bare poles,” said another.

“You’re devilish free with your tongue, my youngster. Easy, pull his ears for me.”

“Pull them easy, Jack, then,” said the boy, laughing.

“All hands make sail!” now resounded at the hatchways.

“There they are, depend upon it,” cried Gascoigne, catching up his hat and bolting out of the berth, followed by all the others except Martin, who had just been relieved, and thought that his presence in the waist might be dispensed with for the short time, at least, which it took him to swallow a cup of tea.

It was very true; a galliot and four lateen vessels had just made their appearance round the easternmost point, and, as soon as they observed the frigate, had hauled their wind. In a minute theAurorawas under a press of canvas, and the telescopes were all directed to the vessels.

“All deeply laden, sir,” observed Mr Hawkins, the chaplain; “how the topsail of the galliot is scored!”

“They have a fresh breeze just now,” observed Captain Wilson to the first lieutenant.

“Yes, sir, and it’s coming down fast.”

“Hands by the royal halyards, there.”

TheAuroracareened with the canvas to the rapidly increasing breeze.

“Top-gallant sheet and halyards.”

“Luff you may, quarter-master; luff, I tell you. A small pull of that weather maintop-gallant brace—that will do,” said the master.

“Top-men aloft there;—stand by to clew up the royals—and, Captain Wilson, shall we take them in?—I’m afraid of that pole—it bends now like a coach-whip,” said Mr Pottyfar, looking up aloft, with his hands in both pockets.

“In royals—lower away.”

“They are going about, sir,” said the second lieutenant, Mr Haswell.

“Look out,” observed the chaplain, “it’s coming.” Again the breeze increased, and the frigate was borne down.

“Hands reef topsails in stays, Mr Pottyfar.”

“Ay, ay, sir—’bout ship.”

The helm was put down and the topsails lowered and reefed in stays.

“Very well, my lads, very well indeed,” said Captain Wilson.

Again the topsails were hoisted and top-gallant sheets home. It was a strong breeze, although the water was smooth, and theAuroradashed through at the rate of eight miles an hour, with her weather leeches lifting.

“Didn’t I tell you so?” said Martin to his mess-mates on the gangway; “but there’s more yet, my boys.”

“We must take the top-gallant sails off her,” said Captain Wilson, looking aloft—for the frigate now careened to her bearings, and the wind was increasing and squally. “Try them a little longer;” but another squall came suddenly—the halyards were lowered, and the sails clewed up and furled.

In the meantime the frigate had rapidly gained upon the vessels, which still carried on every stitch of canvas, making short tacks in-shore. TheAurorawas again put about with her head towards them, and they were not two points on her weather bow. The sky, which had been clear in the morning, was now overcast, the sun was obscured with opaque white clouds, and the sea was rising fast. Another ten minutes, and then they were under double-reefed topsails, and the squalls were accompanied with heavy rain. The frigate now dashed through the waves, foaming in her course and straining under the press of sail. The horizon was so thick that the vessels ahead were no longer to be seen.

“We shall have it, I expect,” said Captain Wilson.

“Didn’t I say so?” observed Martin to Gascoigne. “We take no prizes this day, depend upon it.”

“We must have another hand to the wheel, sir, if you please,” said the quarter-master, who was assisting the helmsman.

Mr Pottyfar, with his hands concealed as usual, stood by the capstern. “I fear, sir, we cannot carry the mainsail much longer.”

“No,” observed the chaplain, “I was thinking so.”

“Captain Wilson, if you please, we are very close in,” said the master: “don’t you think we had better go about?”

“Yes, Mr Jones. Hands about ship—and—yes, by heavens, we must!—up mainsail.”

The mainsail was taken off, and the frigate appeared to be immediately relieved. She no longer jerked and plunged as before.

“We’re very near the land, Captain Wilson; thick as it is, I think I can make out the loom of it—shall we wear round, sir?” continued the master.

“Yes—hands wear ship—put the helm up.”

It was but just in time, for, as the frigate flew round, describing a circle, as she payed off before the wind, they could perceive the breakers lashing the precipitous coast not two cables’ length from them.

“I had no idea we were so near,” observed the captain, compressing his lips—“can they see anything of those vessels?”

“I have not seen them this quarter of an hour, sir,” replied the signalman, protecting his glass from the rain under his jacket.

“How’s her head now, quarter-master?”

“South south-east, sir.”

The sky now assumed a different appearance—the white clouds had been exchanged for others dark and murky, the wind roared at intervals, and the rain came down in torrents. Captain Wilson went down into the cabin to examine the barometer.

“The barometer has risen,” said he on his return on deck. “Is the wind steady?”

“No, sir, she’s up and off three points.”

“This will end in a south-wester.”

The wet and heavy sails now flapped from the shifting of the wind.

“Up with the helm, quarter-master.”

“Up it is—she’s off to south-by-west.”

The wind lulled, the rain came down in a deluge—for a minute it was quite calm, and the frigate was on an even keel.

“Man the braces. We shall be taken aback directly, depend upon it.”

The braces were hardly stretched along before this was the case. The wind flew round to the south-west with a loud roar, and it was fortunate that they were prepared—the yards were braced round, and the master asked the captain what course they were to steer.

“We must give it up,” observed Captain Wilson, holding on by the belaying pin. “Shape our course for Cape Sicie, Mr Jones.”

And theAuroraflew before the gale, under her foresail and topsails close reefed. The weather was now so thick that nothing could be observed twenty yards from the vessel; the thunder pealed, and the lightning darted in every direction over the dark expanse. The watch was called as soon as the sails were trimmed, and all who could went below, wet, uncomfortable, and disappointed.

“What an old Jonah you are, Martin,” said Gascoigne.

“Yes, I am,” replied he; “but we have the worst to come yet, in my opinion. I recollect, not two hundred miles from where we are now, we had just such a gale in theFavourite, and we as nearly went down, when—”

At this moment a tremendous noise was heard above, a shock was felt throughout the whole ship, which trembled fore and aft as if it were about to fall into pieces; loud shrieks were followed by plaintive cries, the lower deck was filled with smoke, and the frigate was down on her beam ends. Without exchanging a word, the whole of the occupants of the berth flew out, and were up the hatchway, not knowing what to think, but convinced that some dreadful accident had taken place.

On their gaining the deck it was at once explained; the foremast of the frigate had been struck by lightning, had been riven into several pieces, and had fallen over the larboard bow, carrying with it the main topmast and jib-boom. The jagged stump of the foremast was in flames, and burned brightly, notwithstanding the rain fell in torrents. The ship, as soon as the foremast and main topmast had gone overboard, broached-to furiously, throwing the men over the wheel and dashing them senseless against the carronades; the forecastle, the fore part of the main deck, and even the lower deck, were spread with men, either killed or seriously wounded or insensible from the electric shock. The frigate was on her beam ends, and the sea broke furiously over her; all was dark as pitch, except the light from the blazing stump of the foremast, appearing like a torch, held up by the wild demons of the storm, or when occasionally the gleaming lightning cast a momentary glare, threatening every moment to repeat its attack upon the vessel, while the deafening thunder burst almost on their devoted heads. All was dismay and confusion for a minute or two: at last Captain Wilson, who had himself lost his sight for a short time, called for the carpenter and axes—they climbed up, that is, two or three of them, and he pointed to the mizzen-mast; the master was also there, and he cut loose the axes for the seamen to use; in a few minutes the mizzen-mast fell over the quarter, and the helm being put hard up, the frigate payed off and slowly righted. But the horror of the scene was not yet over. The boatswain, who had been on the forecastle, had been led below, for his vision was gone for ever. The men who lay scattered about had been examined, and they were assisting them down to the care of the surgeon, when the cry of “Fire!” issued from the lower deck. The ship had taken fire at the coal-hole and carpenter’s storeroom, and the smoke that now ascended was intense.

“Call the drummer,” said Captain Wilson, “and let him beat to quarters—all hands to their stations—let the pumps be rigged and the buckets passed along. Mr Martin, see that the wounded men are taken down below. Where’s Mr Haswell? Mr Pottyfar, station the men to pass the water on by hand on the lower deck. I will go there myself. Mr Jones, take charge of the ship.”

Pottyfar, who actually had taken his hands out of his pockets, hastened down to comply with the captain’s orders on the main deck, as Captain Wilson descended to the deck below.

“I say, Jack, this is very different from this morning,” observed Gascoigne.

“Yes,” replied Jack, “so it is; but I say, Gascoigne, what’s the best thing to do?—when the chimney’s on fire on shore, they put a wet blanket over it.”

“Yes,” replied Gascoigne; “but when the coal-hole’s on fire on board, they will not find that sufficient.”

“At all events, wet blankets must be a good thing, Ned, so let us pull out the hammocks; cut the lanyards and get some out—we can but offer them, you know, and if they do no good, at least it will show our zeal.”

“Yes, Jack, and I think when they turn in again, those whose blankets you take will agree with you that zeal makes the service very uncomfortable. However, I think you are right.”

The two midshipmen collected three or four hands, and in a very short time they had more blankets than they could carry—there was no trouble in wetting them, for the main deck was afloat—and followed by the men they had collected, Easy and Gascoigne went down with large bundles in their arms to where Captain Wilson was giving directions to the men.

“Excellent, Mr Easy! excellent, Mr Gascoigne;” said Captain Wilson. “Come, my lads, throw them over now, and stamp upon them well;” the men’s jackets and the captain’s coat had already been sacrificed to the same object.

Easy called the other midshipmen, and they went up for a further supply; but there was no occasion, the fire had been smothered: still the danger had been so great that the fore magazine had been floated. During all this, which lasted perhaps a quarter of an hour, the frigate had rolled gunwale under, and many were the accidents which occurred. At last all danger from fire had ceased, and the men were ordered to return to their quarters, when three officers and forty-seven men were found absent—seven of them were dead—most of them were already under the care of the surgeon, but some were still lying in the scuppers.

No one had been more active or more brave during this time of danger than Mr Hawkins the chaplain. He was everywhere, and when Captain Wilson went down to put out the fire he was there, encouraging the men and exerting himself most gallantly. He and Mesty came aft when all was over, one just as black as the other. The chaplain sat down and wrung his hands—“God forgive me!” said he, “God forgive me!”

“Why so, sir?” said Easy, who stood near, “I am sure you need not be ashamed of what you have done.”

“No, no, not ashamed of what I’ve done; but, Mr Easy—I have sworn so, sworn such oaths at the men in my haste—I, the chaplain! God forgive me!—I meant nothing.” It was very true that Mr Hawkins had sworn a great deal during his exertions, but he was at that time the quarter-deck officer and not the chaplain; the example to the men and his gallantry had been most serviceable.

“Indeed, sir,” said Easy, who saw that the chaplain was in great tribulation, and hoped to pacify him, “I was certainly not there all the time, but I only heard you say, ‘God bless you, my men! be smart,’ and so on; surely, that is not swearing.”

“Was itthatI said, Mr Easy, are you sure? I really had an idea that I had damned them all in heaps, as some of them deserved—no, no, not deserved. Did I really bless them—nothing but bless them?”

“Yes, sir,” said Mesty, who perceived what Jack wanted; “it was nothing, I assure you, but ‘God bless you, Captain Wilson!—Bless your heart, my good men!—Bless the king!’ and so on. You do noting but shower down blessing and wet blanket.”

“I told you so,” said Jack.

“Well, Mr Easy, you’ve made me very happy,” replied the chaplain; “I was afraid it was otherwise.”

So indeed it was, for the chaplain had sworn like a boatswain; but, as Jack and Mesty had turned all his curses into blessings, the poor man gave himself absolution, and shaking hands with Jack, hoped he would come down into the gun-room and take a glass of grog; nor did he forget Mesty, who received a good allowance at the gun-room door, to which Jack gladly consented, as the rum in the middy’s berth had all been exhausted after the rainy morning—but Jack was interrupted in his third glass, by somebody telling him the captain wanted to speak with Mr Hawkins and with him.

Jack went up and found the captain on the quarter-deck with the officers.

“Mr Easy,” said Captain Wilson, “I have sent for you, Mr Hawkins, and Mr Gascoigne, to thank you on the quarter-deck, for your exertions and presence of mind on this trying occasion.” Mr Hawkins made a bow. Gascoigne said nothing, but he thought of having extra leave when they arrived at Malta. Jack felt inclined to make a speech, and began something about when there was danger that it levelled every one to an equality even on board of a man-of-war.

“By no means, Mr Easy,” replied Captain Wilson, “it does the very contrary, for it proves which is the best man, and those who are the best raise themselves at once above the rest.”

Jack was very much inclined to argue the point, but he took the compliment and held his tongue, which was the wisest thing he could have done; so he made his bow, and was about to go down into the midshipmen’s berth when the frigate was pooped by a tremendous sea, which washed all those who did not hold on down into the waist. Jack was among the number, and naturally catching at the first object which touched him, he caught hold of the chaplain by the leg, who commenced swearing most terribly, but before he could finish the oath, the water, which had burst into the cabin through the windows—for the dead-lights, in the confusion, had not yet been shipped—burst out the cross bulkheads, sweeping like a torrent the marine, the cabin-door, and everything else in its force, and floating Jack and the chaplain with several others down the main hatchway on to the lower deck. The lower deck being also full of water, men and chests were rolling and tossing about, and Jack was sometimes in company with the chaplain, and at other times separated; at last they both recovered their legs, and gained the midshipmen’s berth, which, although afloat, was still a haven of security. Mr Hawkins spluttered and spit, and so did Jack, until he began to laugh.

“This is very trying, Mr Easy,” said the chaplain: “very trying indeed to the temper. I hope I have not sworn—I hope not.”

“Not a word,” said Jack—“I was close to you all the time—you only said, ‘God preserve us!’”

“Only that? I was afraid that I said ‘God damn it!’”

“Quite a mistake, Mr Hawkins. Let’s go into the gun-room, and try to wash this salt water out of our mouths, and then I will tell you all you said, as far as I could hear it, word for word.”

So Jack by this means got another glass of grog, which was very acceptable in his wet condition, and made himself very comfortable, while those on deck were putting on the dead-lights, and very busy setting the goose-wings of the mainsail, to prevent the frigate from being pooped a second time.

Chapter Twenty Six.In which our hero becomes excessively unwell, and agrees to go through a course of medicine.The hammocks were not piped down that night: some were taken indiscriminately for the wounded, but the rest remained in the nettings, for all hands were busy preparing jury-masts and jury-rigging, and Mr Pottyfar was so well employed that, for twelve hours, his hands were not in his pockets. It was indeed a dreadful night: the waves were mountains high, and chased the frigate in their fury, cresting, breaking, and roaring at her taffrail; but she flew before them with the wings of the wind; four men at the helm assisted by others at the relieving tackles below. Jack, having been thanked on and washed off the quarter-deck, thought that he had done quite enough; he was as deep as he could swim before he had satisfied all the scruples of the chaplain, and stowing himself away on one of the lockers of the midshipmen’s berth, was soon fast asleep, notwithstanding that the frigate rolled gunwale under. Gascoigne had done much better; he had taken down a hammock, as he said, for a poor wounded man, hung it up, and turned in himself. The consequence was, that the next morning the surgeon, who saw him lying in the hammock, had put him down in the report; but as Gascoigne had got up as well as ever, he laughed, and scratched his name out of the list of wounded.Before morning, the ship had been pumped out dry, and all below made as secure and safe as circumstances would permit; but the gale still continued its violence, and there was anything but comfort on board.“I say, Martin, you ought to be thrown overboard,” said Gascoigne; “all this comes from your croaking you’re a Mother Carey’s chicken.”“I wish I had been any one’s chicken,” replied Martin; “but the devil a thing to nestle under have I had since I can well remember.”“What a bore to have no galley fire lighted,” said one of the youngsters, “no tea, and not allowed any grog.”“The gale will last three days,” replied Martin, “and by that time we shall not be far from the admiral; it won’t blow home there.”“Well, then, we shall be ordered in directly, and I shall go on shore to-morrow,” replied Easy.“Yes, if you’re ill,” replied Gascoigne.“Never fear, I shall be sick enough: we shall be there at least six weeks, and then we’ll forget all this.”“Yes,” replied Martin, “we may forget it, but will the poor fellows whose limbs are shrivelled forget it? and will poor Miles, the boatswain, who is blind for ever?”“Very true, Martin, we are thinking about ourselves, not thankful for our escape, and not feeling for others,” replied Gascoigne.“Give us your hand, Ned,” said Jack Easy. “And, Martin, we ought to thank you for telling us the truth—we are a selfish set of fellows.”“Still we took our share with the others,” replied one of the midshipmen.“That’s more reason for us to be grateful and to pity them,” replied Jack; “suppose you had lost your arm or your eyesight—we should have pitied you; so now pity others.”“Well, so I do, now I think of it.”“Think oftener, youngster,” observed Martin, going on deck.What a change from the morning of the day before!—but twenty-four hours had passed away, and the sea had been smooth, the frigate dashed through the blue water, proud in all her canvas, graceful as a swan. Since that, there had been fire, tempest, lightning, disaster, danger, and death; her masts were tossed about on the snowy waves hundreds of miles away from her—and she, a wreck, was rolling heavily, groaning and complaining in every timber as she urged her impetuous race with the furious-running sea.How wrong are those on shore who assert that sailors are not religious!—how is it possible, supposing them to be possessed of feeling, to be otherwise? On shore, where you have nothing but the change of seasons, each in his own peculiar beauty—nothing but the blessings of the earth, its fruit, its flowers—nothing but the bounty, the comforts, the luxuries which have been invented, where you can rise in the morning in peace, and lay down your head at night in security—God may be neglected and forgotten for a long time; but at sea, when each gale is a warning, each disaster acts as a check, each escape as a homily upon the forbearance of Providence, that man must be indeed brutalised who does not feel that God is there. On shore we seldom view Him but in all His beauty and kindness; but at sea we are as often reminded how terrible He is in His wrath. Can it be supposed that the occurrences of the last twenty-four hours were lost upon the mind of any one man in that ship? No, no. In their courage and activity they might appear reckless, but in their hearts they acknowledged and bowed unto their God.Before the day was over a jury-foremast had been got up, and sail having been put upon it, the ship was steered with greater ease and safety—the main brace had been spliced to cheer up the exhausted crew, and the hammocks were piped down.As Gascoigne had observed, some of the men were not very much pleased to find that they were minus their blankets, but Captain Wilson ordered their losses to be supplied by the purser and expended by the master; this quite altered the case, as they obtained new blankets in most cases for old ones; but still it was impossible to light the galley fire, and the men sat on their chests and nibbled biscuit. By twelve o’clock that night the gale broke, and more sail was necessarily put on the scudding vessel, for the sea still ran fast and mountains high. At daylight the sun burst out and shone brightly on them, the sea went gradually down, the fire was lighted, and Mr Pottyfar, whose hands were again in his pockets, at twelve o’clock gave the welcome order to pipe to dinner. As soon as the men had eaten their dinner, the frigate was once more brought to the wind, her jury-mast forward improved upon, and more sail made upon it. The next morning there was nothing of the gale left except the dire effects which it had produced, the black and riven stump of the foremost still holding up a terrific warning of the power and fury of the elements.Three days more, and theAurorajoined the Toulon fleet. When she was first seen it was imagined by those on board of the other ships that she had been in action; but they soon learned that the conflict had been against more direful weapons than any yet invented by mortal hands. Captain Wilson waited upon the admiral, and of course received immediate orders to repair to port and refit. In a few hours theAurorahad shaped her course for Malta, and by sunset the Toulon fleet were no longer in sight.“By de holy poker, Massa Easy, but that terrible sort of gale the other day anyhow—I tink one time we all go to Davy Joney’s lacker.”“Very true, Mesty; I hope never to meet with such another.”“Den, Massa Easy, why you go to sea? When man ab no money, noting to eat, den he go to sea, but everybody say you ab plenty money—why you come to sea?”“I’m sure I don’t know,” replied Jack thoughtfully; “I came to sea on account of equality and the rights of man.”“Eh, Massa Easy, you come to wrong place anyhow; now I tink a good deal lately, and by all de power, I tink equality all stuff.”“All stuff, Mesty, why? you used to think otherwise.”“Yes, Massa Easy, but den I boil de kettle for all young gentleman. Now dat I ship’s corporal and hab cane, I tink so no longer.”Jack made no reply, but he thought the more. The reader must have perceived that Jack’s notions of equality were rapidly disappearing; he defended them more from habit, and perhaps a wilfulness which would not allow him to acknowledge himself wrong; to which may be added his love of argument. Already he had accustomed himself to obedience to his superiors, and, notwithstanding his arguments, he would admit of no resistance from those below him; not that it was hardly ever attempted, for Jack was anything but a tyrant, and was much beloved by all in the ship. Every day brought its lesson, and Captain Wilson was now satisfied that Jack had been almost cured of the effects of his father’s ridiculous philosophy.After a few minutes, Mesty tapped his cane on the funnel, and recommenced.“Then why you stay at sea, Massa Easy?”“I don’t know, Mesty; I don’t dislike it.”“But, Massa Easy, why you stay in midshipman berth—eat hard biscuit, salt pig, salt horse, when you can go shore, and live like gentleman? Dat very foolish! Why not be your own master? By all power! suppose I had money, catch me board ship. Little sea very good, Massa Easy—open one eyes; but tink of the lightning t’other night: poor massa boatswain, he shut um eyes for ebber!”“Very true, Mesty.”“Me hope you tink of this, sar, and when you go on shore, you take Mesty wid you: he sarve you well, Massa Easy, long as he live, by de holy St. Patrick. And den, Massa Easy, you marry wife—hab pickaninny—lib like gentleman. You tink of this, Massa Easy.”The mention of the word marriage turned the thoughts of our hero to his Agnes, and he made no reply. Mesty walked away, leaving our hero in deep thought.This conversation had more effect upon Jack than would have been imagined, and he very often found he was putting to himself the question of Mesty—“Why do you stay at sea?” He had not entered the service with any particular view, except to find equality; and he could not but acknowledge to himself that, as Mesty observed, he had come to the wrong place. He had never even thought of staying to serve his time, nor had he looked forward to promotion, and one day commanding a ship. He had only cared for the present, without indulging in a future anticipation of any reward, except in a union with Agnes. Mesty’s observations occasioned Jack to reflect upon the future for the first time in his life; and he was always perplexed when he put the question of Mesty, and tried to answer to himself as to what were his intentions in remaining in the service.Nevertheless, Jack did his duty very much to the satisfaction of Mr Pottyfar; and after a tedious passage, from baffling and light winds, theAuroraarrived at Malta. Our hero had had some conversation with his friend Gascoigne, in which he canvassed his future plans; all of which, however, ended in one settled point, which was that he was to marry Agnes. As for the rest, Gascoigne was of opinion that Jack ought to follow up the service, and become a captain, but there was plenty of time to think about that, as he observed, now all they had to consider was how to get on shore; for the refitting of the ship was an excuse for detaining them on board, which they knew Mr Pottyfar would avail himself of. Jack dined in the gun-room on the day of their arrival, and he resolved that he would ask that very evening. Captain Wilson was already on shore at the Governor’s. Now, there had been a little difference of opinion between Mr Pottyfar and Mr Hawkins, the chaplain, on a point of seamanship; and most of the officers sided with the chaplain, who, as we have before observed, was a first-rate seaman. It had ended in high words, for Mr Hawkins had forgotten himself so far as to tell the first lieutenant that he had a great deal to learn, not having even got over the midshipman’s trick of keeping his hands in his pockets; and Mr Pottyfar had replied that it was very well for him as chaplain to insult others, knowing that his cassock protected him. This was a bitter reply to Mr Hawkins, who at the very time that the insinuation made his blood boil, was also reminded that his profession forbade a retort: he rushed into his cabin, poor fellow, having no other method left, vented his indignation in tears, and then consoled himself by degrees with prayer. In the meantime, Mr Pottyfar had gone on deck, wroth with Hawkins and his messmates, as well as displeased with himself. He was, indeed, in a humour to be pleased with nobody, and in a most unfortunate humour to be asked leave by a midshipman. Nevertheless, Jack politely took off his hat, and requested leave to go on shore and see his friend the Governor. Upon which Mr Pottyfar turned round to him, with his feet spread wide open, and thrusting his hands to the very bottom of his pockets, as if in determination, said, “Mr Easy, you know the state of the ship; we have everything to do—new masts, new rigging, everything almost to refit—and yet you ask to go on shore! Now, sir, you may take this answer for yourself and all the other midshipmen in the ship, that not one soul of you puts his foot on shore until we are all a-taunto.”“Allow me to observe, sir,” said our hero, “that it is very true that all our services may be required when the duty commences, but this being Saturday night, and to-morrow Sunday, the frigate will not be even moved till Monday morning; and as the work cannot begin before that, I trust you will permit leave until that time.”“My opinion is different, sir,” replied the first lieutenant.“Perhaps, sir, you will allow me to argue the point,” replied Jack.“No, sir, I never allow argument; walk over to the other side of the deck, if you please.”“Oh, certainly, sir,” said Jack, “if you wish it.”Jack’s first idea was to go on shore without leave, but from this he was persuaded by Gascoigne, who told him that it would displease Captain Wilson, and that old Tom, the Governor, would not receive him. Jack agreed to this, and then, after a flourish about the rights of man, tyranny, oppression, and so forth, he walked forward to the forecastle, where he found his friend Mesty, who had heard all that had passed, and who insidiously said to him in a low tone:“Why you stay at sea, Massa Easy?”“Why, indeed,” thought Jack, boiling with indignation, “to be cooped up here at the will of another? I am a fool—Mesty is right—I’ll ask for my discharge to-morrow.” Jack went down below and told Gascoigne what he had determined to do.“You’ll do no such thing, Jack,” replied Gascoigne “depend upon it, you’ll have plenty of leave in a day or two. Pottyfar was in a pet with the chaplain, who was too much for him. Captain Wilson will be on board by nine o’clock.”Nevertheless, Jack walked his first watch in themagnificents, as all middies do when they cannot go on shore, and turned in at twelve o’clock, with the resolution of sticking to his purpose, and quitting his Majesty’s service; in fact, of presenting his Majesty with his between two and three years’ time, served as midshipman, all free, gratis, and for nothing, except his provisions and his pay, which some captains are bold enough to assert that they not only are not worth, but not even the salt that accompanies it; forgetting that they were once midshipmen themselves, and at the period were, of course, about the same value.The next morning Captain Wilson came off; the ship’s company were mustered, the service read by Mr Hawkins, and Jack, as soon as all the official duties were over, was about to go up to the captain, when the captain said to him:“Mr Easy, the Governor desired me to bring you on shore to dine with him, and he has a bed at your service.”Jack touched his hat, and ran down below, to make his few preparations.By the time that Mesty, who had taken charge of his chest, etcetera, had put his necessaries in the boat, Jack had almost made up his mind that his Majesty should not be deprived yet awhile of so valuable an officer. Jack returned on deck, and found that the captain was not yet ready; he went up to Mr Pottyfar, and told him that the captain had ordered him to go on shore with him; and Mr Pottyfar, who had quite got over his spleen, said:“Very well, Mr Easy—I wish you a great deal of pleasure.”“This is very different from yesterday,” thought Jack; “suppose I try the medicine?”“I am not very well, Mr Pottyfar, and those pills of the doctor’s don’t agree with me—I always am ill if I am long without air and exercise.”“Very true,” said the first lieutenant, “people require air and exercise. I’ve no opinion of the doctor’s remedies; the only thing that is worth a farthing is the universal medicine.”“I should so long to try it, sir,” replied Jack; “I read the book one day, and it said that if you took it daily for a fortnight or three weeks, and with plenty of air and exercise, it would do wonders.”“And it’s very true,” replied Mr Pottyfar, “and if you’d like to try it you shall—I have plenty—shall I give you a dose now?”“If you please, sir,” replied Jack; “and tell me how often I am to take it, for my head aches all day.”Mr Pottyfar took Jack down, and putting into his hand three or four bottles of the preparation, told him that he was to take thirty drops at night, when he went to bed, not to drink more than two glasses of wine, and to avoid the heat of the sun.“But, sir,” replied Jack, who had put the bottles in his pocket, “I am afraid that I cannot take it for long; for as the ship is ready for fitting, I shall be exposed to the sun all day.”“Yes, if you are wanted, Mr Easy; but we have plenty here without you; and when you are unwell you cannot be expected to work. Take care of your health; and I trust, indeed I am sure, that you will find this medicine wonderfully efficacious.”“I will begin to-night, sir, if you please,” replied Jack, “and I am very much obliged to you. I sleep at the Governor’s—shall I come on board to-morrow morning?”“No, no; take care of yourself, and get well; I shall be glad to hear that you get better. Send me word how it acts.”“I will, sir, send you word by the boat every day,” replied Jack, delighted; “I am very much obliged to you, sir. Gascoigne and I were thinking of asking you, but did not like to do so: he, poor fellow, suffers from headaches almost as bad as I do, and the doctor’s pills are of no use to him.”“He shall have some, too, Mr Easy. I thought he looked pale. I’ll see to it this afternoon. Recollect, moderate exercise, Mr Easy, and avoid the sun at midday.”“Yes, sir,” replied Jack, “I’ll not forget;” and off went Jack, delighted. He ordered Mesty to put up his whole portmanteau instead of the small bundle he put into the boat, and telling Gascoigne what a spoke he had put into his wheel, was soon in the boat with the captain, and went on shore, where he was cordially greeted by the Governor.

The hammocks were not piped down that night: some were taken indiscriminately for the wounded, but the rest remained in the nettings, for all hands were busy preparing jury-masts and jury-rigging, and Mr Pottyfar was so well employed that, for twelve hours, his hands were not in his pockets. It was indeed a dreadful night: the waves were mountains high, and chased the frigate in their fury, cresting, breaking, and roaring at her taffrail; but she flew before them with the wings of the wind; four men at the helm assisted by others at the relieving tackles below. Jack, having been thanked on and washed off the quarter-deck, thought that he had done quite enough; he was as deep as he could swim before he had satisfied all the scruples of the chaplain, and stowing himself away on one of the lockers of the midshipmen’s berth, was soon fast asleep, notwithstanding that the frigate rolled gunwale under. Gascoigne had done much better; he had taken down a hammock, as he said, for a poor wounded man, hung it up, and turned in himself. The consequence was, that the next morning the surgeon, who saw him lying in the hammock, had put him down in the report; but as Gascoigne had got up as well as ever, he laughed, and scratched his name out of the list of wounded.

Before morning, the ship had been pumped out dry, and all below made as secure and safe as circumstances would permit; but the gale still continued its violence, and there was anything but comfort on board.

“I say, Martin, you ought to be thrown overboard,” said Gascoigne; “all this comes from your croaking you’re a Mother Carey’s chicken.”

“I wish I had been any one’s chicken,” replied Martin; “but the devil a thing to nestle under have I had since I can well remember.”

“What a bore to have no galley fire lighted,” said one of the youngsters, “no tea, and not allowed any grog.”

“The gale will last three days,” replied Martin, “and by that time we shall not be far from the admiral; it won’t blow home there.”

“Well, then, we shall be ordered in directly, and I shall go on shore to-morrow,” replied Easy.

“Yes, if you’re ill,” replied Gascoigne.

“Never fear, I shall be sick enough: we shall be there at least six weeks, and then we’ll forget all this.”

“Yes,” replied Martin, “we may forget it, but will the poor fellows whose limbs are shrivelled forget it? and will poor Miles, the boatswain, who is blind for ever?”

“Very true, Martin, we are thinking about ourselves, not thankful for our escape, and not feeling for others,” replied Gascoigne.

“Give us your hand, Ned,” said Jack Easy. “And, Martin, we ought to thank you for telling us the truth—we are a selfish set of fellows.”

“Still we took our share with the others,” replied one of the midshipmen.

“That’s more reason for us to be grateful and to pity them,” replied Jack; “suppose you had lost your arm or your eyesight—we should have pitied you; so now pity others.”

“Well, so I do, now I think of it.”

“Think oftener, youngster,” observed Martin, going on deck.

What a change from the morning of the day before!—but twenty-four hours had passed away, and the sea had been smooth, the frigate dashed through the blue water, proud in all her canvas, graceful as a swan. Since that, there had been fire, tempest, lightning, disaster, danger, and death; her masts were tossed about on the snowy waves hundreds of miles away from her—and she, a wreck, was rolling heavily, groaning and complaining in every timber as she urged her impetuous race with the furious-running sea.

How wrong are those on shore who assert that sailors are not religious!—how is it possible, supposing them to be possessed of feeling, to be otherwise? On shore, where you have nothing but the change of seasons, each in his own peculiar beauty—nothing but the blessings of the earth, its fruit, its flowers—nothing but the bounty, the comforts, the luxuries which have been invented, where you can rise in the morning in peace, and lay down your head at night in security—God may be neglected and forgotten for a long time; but at sea, when each gale is a warning, each disaster acts as a check, each escape as a homily upon the forbearance of Providence, that man must be indeed brutalised who does not feel that God is there. On shore we seldom view Him but in all His beauty and kindness; but at sea we are as often reminded how terrible He is in His wrath. Can it be supposed that the occurrences of the last twenty-four hours were lost upon the mind of any one man in that ship? No, no. In their courage and activity they might appear reckless, but in their hearts they acknowledged and bowed unto their God.

Before the day was over a jury-foremast had been got up, and sail having been put upon it, the ship was steered with greater ease and safety—the main brace had been spliced to cheer up the exhausted crew, and the hammocks were piped down.

As Gascoigne had observed, some of the men were not very much pleased to find that they were minus their blankets, but Captain Wilson ordered their losses to be supplied by the purser and expended by the master; this quite altered the case, as they obtained new blankets in most cases for old ones; but still it was impossible to light the galley fire, and the men sat on their chests and nibbled biscuit. By twelve o’clock that night the gale broke, and more sail was necessarily put on the scudding vessel, for the sea still ran fast and mountains high. At daylight the sun burst out and shone brightly on them, the sea went gradually down, the fire was lighted, and Mr Pottyfar, whose hands were again in his pockets, at twelve o’clock gave the welcome order to pipe to dinner. As soon as the men had eaten their dinner, the frigate was once more brought to the wind, her jury-mast forward improved upon, and more sail made upon it. The next morning there was nothing of the gale left except the dire effects which it had produced, the black and riven stump of the foremost still holding up a terrific warning of the power and fury of the elements.

Three days more, and theAurorajoined the Toulon fleet. When she was first seen it was imagined by those on board of the other ships that she had been in action; but they soon learned that the conflict had been against more direful weapons than any yet invented by mortal hands. Captain Wilson waited upon the admiral, and of course received immediate orders to repair to port and refit. In a few hours theAurorahad shaped her course for Malta, and by sunset the Toulon fleet were no longer in sight.

“By de holy poker, Massa Easy, but that terrible sort of gale the other day anyhow—I tink one time we all go to Davy Joney’s lacker.”

“Very true, Mesty; I hope never to meet with such another.”

“Den, Massa Easy, why you go to sea? When man ab no money, noting to eat, den he go to sea, but everybody say you ab plenty money—why you come to sea?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” replied Jack thoughtfully; “I came to sea on account of equality and the rights of man.”

“Eh, Massa Easy, you come to wrong place anyhow; now I tink a good deal lately, and by all de power, I tink equality all stuff.”

“All stuff, Mesty, why? you used to think otherwise.”

“Yes, Massa Easy, but den I boil de kettle for all young gentleman. Now dat I ship’s corporal and hab cane, I tink so no longer.”

Jack made no reply, but he thought the more. The reader must have perceived that Jack’s notions of equality were rapidly disappearing; he defended them more from habit, and perhaps a wilfulness which would not allow him to acknowledge himself wrong; to which may be added his love of argument. Already he had accustomed himself to obedience to his superiors, and, notwithstanding his arguments, he would admit of no resistance from those below him; not that it was hardly ever attempted, for Jack was anything but a tyrant, and was much beloved by all in the ship. Every day brought its lesson, and Captain Wilson was now satisfied that Jack had been almost cured of the effects of his father’s ridiculous philosophy.

After a few minutes, Mesty tapped his cane on the funnel, and recommenced.

“Then why you stay at sea, Massa Easy?”

“I don’t know, Mesty; I don’t dislike it.”

“But, Massa Easy, why you stay in midshipman berth—eat hard biscuit, salt pig, salt horse, when you can go shore, and live like gentleman? Dat very foolish! Why not be your own master? By all power! suppose I had money, catch me board ship. Little sea very good, Massa Easy—open one eyes; but tink of the lightning t’other night: poor massa boatswain, he shut um eyes for ebber!”

“Very true, Mesty.”

“Me hope you tink of this, sar, and when you go on shore, you take Mesty wid you: he sarve you well, Massa Easy, long as he live, by de holy St. Patrick. And den, Massa Easy, you marry wife—hab pickaninny—lib like gentleman. You tink of this, Massa Easy.”

The mention of the word marriage turned the thoughts of our hero to his Agnes, and he made no reply. Mesty walked away, leaving our hero in deep thought.

This conversation had more effect upon Jack than would have been imagined, and he very often found he was putting to himself the question of Mesty—“Why do you stay at sea?” He had not entered the service with any particular view, except to find equality; and he could not but acknowledge to himself that, as Mesty observed, he had come to the wrong place. He had never even thought of staying to serve his time, nor had he looked forward to promotion, and one day commanding a ship. He had only cared for the present, without indulging in a future anticipation of any reward, except in a union with Agnes. Mesty’s observations occasioned Jack to reflect upon the future for the first time in his life; and he was always perplexed when he put the question of Mesty, and tried to answer to himself as to what were his intentions in remaining in the service.

Nevertheless, Jack did his duty very much to the satisfaction of Mr Pottyfar; and after a tedious passage, from baffling and light winds, theAuroraarrived at Malta. Our hero had had some conversation with his friend Gascoigne, in which he canvassed his future plans; all of which, however, ended in one settled point, which was that he was to marry Agnes. As for the rest, Gascoigne was of opinion that Jack ought to follow up the service, and become a captain, but there was plenty of time to think about that, as he observed, now all they had to consider was how to get on shore; for the refitting of the ship was an excuse for detaining them on board, which they knew Mr Pottyfar would avail himself of. Jack dined in the gun-room on the day of their arrival, and he resolved that he would ask that very evening. Captain Wilson was already on shore at the Governor’s. Now, there had been a little difference of opinion between Mr Pottyfar and Mr Hawkins, the chaplain, on a point of seamanship; and most of the officers sided with the chaplain, who, as we have before observed, was a first-rate seaman. It had ended in high words, for Mr Hawkins had forgotten himself so far as to tell the first lieutenant that he had a great deal to learn, not having even got over the midshipman’s trick of keeping his hands in his pockets; and Mr Pottyfar had replied that it was very well for him as chaplain to insult others, knowing that his cassock protected him. This was a bitter reply to Mr Hawkins, who at the very time that the insinuation made his blood boil, was also reminded that his profession forbade a retort: he rushed into his cabin, poor fellow, having no other method left, vented his indignation in tears, and then consoled himself by degrees with prayer. In the meantime, Mr Pottyfar had gone on deck, wroth with Hawkins and his messmates, as well as displeased with himself. He was, indeed, in a humour to be pleased with nobody, and in a most unfortunate humour to be asked leave by a midshipman. Nevertheless, Jack politely took off his hat, and requested leave to go on shore and see his friend the Governor. Upon which Mr Pottyfar turned round to him, with his feet spread wide open, and thrusting his hands to the very bottom of his pockets, as if in determination, said, “Mr Easy, you know the state of the ship; we have everything to do—new masts, new rigging, everything almost to refit—and yet you ask to go on shore! Now, sir, you may take this answer for yourself and all the other midshipmen in the ship, that not one soul of you puts his foot on shore until we are all a-taunto.”

“Allow me to observe, sir,” said our hero, “that it is very true that all our services may be required when the duty commences, but this being Saturday night, and to-morrow Sunday, the frigate will not be even moved till Monday morning; and as the work cannot begin before that, I trust you will permit leave until that time.”

“My opinion is different, sir,” replied the first lieutenant.

“Perhaps, sir, you will allow me to argue the point,” replied Jack.

“No, sir, I never allow argument; walk over to the other side of the deck, if you please.”

“Oh, certainly, sir,” said Jack, “if you wish it.”

Jack’s first idea was to go on shore without leave, but from this he was persuaded by Gascoigne, who told him that it would displease Captain Wilson, and that old Tom, the Governor, would not receive him. Jack agreed to this, and then, after a flourish about the rights of man, tyranny, oppression, and so forth, he walked forward to the forecastle, where he found his friend Mesty, who had heard all that had passed, and who insidiously said to him in a low tone:

“Why you stay at sea, Massa Easy?”

“Why, indeed,” thought Jack, boiling with indignation, “to be cooped up here at the will of another? I am a fool—Mesty is right—I’ll ask for my discharge to-morrow.” Jack went down below and told Gascoigne what he had determined to do.

“You’ll do no such thing, Jack,” replied Gascoigne “depend upon it, you’ll have plenty of leave in a day or two. Pottyfar was in a pet with the chaplain, who was too much for him. Captain Wilson will be on board by nine o’clock.”

Nevertheless, Jack walked his first watch in themagnificents, as all middies do when they cannot go on shore, and turned in at twelve o’clock, with the resolution of sticking to his purpose, and quitting his Majesty’s service; in fact, of presenting his Majesty with his between two and three years’ time, served as midshipman, all free, gratis, and for nothing, except his provisions and his pay, which some captains are bold enough to assert that they not only are not worth, but not even the salt that accompanies it; forgetting that they were once midshipmen themselves, and at the period were, of course, about the same value.

The next morning Captain Wilson came off; the ship’s company were mustered, the service read by Mr Hawkins, and Jack, as soon as all the official duties were over, was about to go up to the captain, when the captain said to him:

“Mr Easy, the Governor desired me to bring you on shore to dine with him, and he has a bed at your service.”

Jack touched his hat, and ran down below, to make his few preparations.

By the time that Mesty, who had taken charge of his chest, etcetera, had put his necessaries in the boat, Jack had almost made up his mind that his Majesty should not be deprived yet awhile of so valuable an officer. Jack returned on deck, and found that the captain was not yet ready; he went up to Mr Pottyfar, and told him that the captain had ordered him to go on shore with him; and Mr Pottyfar, who had quite got over his spleen, said:

“Very well, Mr Easy—I wish you a great deal of pleasure.”

“This is very different from yesterday,” thought Jack; “suppose I try the medicine?”

“I am not very well, Mr Pottyfar, and those pills of the doctor’s don’t agree with me—I always am ill if I am long without air and exercise.”

“Very true,” said the first lieutenant, “people require air and exercise. I’ve no opinion of the doctor’s remedies; the only thing that is worth a farthing is the universal medicine.”

“I should so long to try it, sir,” replied Jack; “I read the book one day, and it said that if you took it daily for a fortnight or three weeks, and with plenty of air and exercise, it would do wonders.”

“And it’s very true,” replied Mr Pottyfar, “and if you’d like to try it you shall—I have plenty—shall I give you a dose now?”

“If you please, sir,” replied Jack; “and tell me how often I am to take it, for my head aches all day.”

Mr Pottyfar took Jack down, and putting into his hand three or four bottles of the preparation, told him that he was to take thirty drops at night, when he went to bed, not to drink more than two glasses of wine, and to avoid the heat of the sun.

“But, sir,” replied Jack, who had put the bottles in his pocket, “I am afraid that I cannot take it for long; for as the ship is ready for fitting, I shall be exposed to the sun all day.”

“Yes, if you are wanted, Mr Easy; but we have plenty here without you; and when you are unwell you cannot be expected to work. Take care of your health; and I trust, indeed I am sure, that you will find this medicine wonderfully efficacious.”

“I will begin to-night, sir, if you please,” replied Jack, “and I am very much obliged to you. I sleep at the Governor’s—shall I come on board to-morrow morning?”

“No, no; take care of yourself, and get well; I shall be glad to hear that you get better. Send me word how it acts.”

“I will, sir, send you word by the boat every day,” replied Jack, delighted; “I am very much obliged to you, sir. Gascoigne and I were thinking of asking you, but did not like to do so: he, poor fellow, suffers from headaches almost as bad as I do, and the doctor’s pills are of no use to him.”

“He shall have some, too, Mr Easy. I thought he looked pale. I’ll see to it this afternoon. Recollect, moderate exercise, Mr Easy, and avoid the sun at midday.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Jack, “I’ll not forget;” and off went Jack, delighted. He ordered Mesty to put up his whole portmanteau instead of the small bundle he put into the boat, and telling Gascoigne what a spoke he had put into his wheel, was soon in the boat with the captain, and went on shore, where he was cordially greeted by the Governor.

Chapter Twenty Seven.In which Captain Wilson is repaid with interest for Jack’s borrowing his name; proving that a good name is as good as a legacy.“Well, Jack, my boy, have you any long story ready for me?” inquired the Governor.“Yes, sir,” replied Jack, “I have one or two very good ones.”“Very well, we’ll hear them after dinner,” replied old Tom. “In the meantime find out your room and take possession.”“That must not be for very long, Governor,” observed Captain Wilson. “Mr Easy must learn his duty, and there is a good opportunity now.”“If you please, sir,” replied Jack, “I’m on the sick-list.”“Sick-list,” said Captain Wilson; “you were not in the report that Mr Wilson gave me this morning.”“No, I’m on Mr Pottyfar’s list; and I’m going through a course of the universal medicine.”“What’s all this, Jack—what’s all this?—there’s some story here—don’t be afraid of the captain—you’ve me to back you,” said the Governor.Jack was not at all afraid of the captain, so he told him how the first-lieutenant had refused him leave the evening before, and how he had now given him permission to remain, and try the universal medicine, at which the Governor laughed heartily, nor could Captain Wilson refrain from joining.“But, Mr Easy,” replied the captain, after a pause, “if Mr Pottyfar will allow you to stay on shore, I cannot—you have your duty to learn. You must be aware that now is your time, and you must not lose opportunities that do not occur every day. You must acknowledge the truth of what I say.”“Yes, sir,” replied Jack, “I admit it all, provided I do intend to follow the profession;” and so saying, our hero bowed, and left the veranda where they had been talking.This hint of Jack’s, thrown out by him more with the intention of preventing his being sent on board than with any definite idea, was not lost upon either the captain or the Governor.“Does he jib, then?” observed the Governor.“On the contrary, I never knew him more attentive and so entirely getting rid of his former notions. He has behaved most nobly in the gale, and there has not been one complaint against him—I never was more astonished—he must have meant something.”“I’ll tell you what he means, Wilson—that he does not like to be sent on board, nothing more. He’s not to be cooped up—you may lead him, but not drive him.”“Yes, but the service will not admit of it. I never could allow it—he must do his duty like the rest, and conform to the rules.”“Exactly, so he must; but look ye, Wilson, you must not lose him: it’s all easily settled—appoint him your orderly midshipman to and from the ship; that will be employment, and he can always remain here at night. I will tell him that I have asked, as a favour, what I now do, and leave me to find out what he is thinking about.”“It may be done that way, certainly,” replied Captain Wilson, musing; “and you are more likely to get his intentions from him than I am. I am afraid he has too great a command of money ever to be fond of the ship; it is the ruin of a junior officer to be so lavishly supplied.”“He’s a long way from ruin yet, Wilson—he’s a very fine fellow, even by your own acknowledgment. You humoured him out of gratitude to his father, when he first came into the service; humour him a little now to keep him in it. Besides, if your first lieutenant is such a fool with his universal medicine, can you wonder at a midshipman taking advantage of it?”“No, but I ought not to allow him to do so with my eyes open.”“He has made it known to you upon honour, and you ought not to take advantage of his confidence: but still what I proposed would, I think, be the best, for then he will be at his duty in a way that will suit all parties. You, because you employ him on service—the first lieutenant, because Jack can take his medicine—and Jack, because he can dine with me every day.”“Well, I suppose it must be so,” replied Captain Wilson, laughing; “but still, I trust, you will discover what is working in his mind to induce him to give me that answer, Governor.”“Never fear, Jack shall confess, and lay his soul as bare as that of a Catholic bigot before his padre.”The party sat down to dinner, and what with the Governor’s aide-de-camp and those invited, it was pretty numerous. After the cloth had been removed, the Governor called upon Jack for his stories, whereupon, much to the surprise of Captain Wilson, who had never heard one word of it, for the admiral had not mentioned anything about it to him during the short time theAurorawas with the Toulon fleet, our hero gave the Governor and the company the narrative of all that happened in theMary Anntransport—the loves of Captain Hogg and Miss Hicks—the adventures of Gascoigne—and his plan, by which he baulked them all. The Governor was delighted, and Captain Wilson not a little astonished.“You prevented a very foolish thing, Mr Easy, and behaved very well,” observed the captain, laughing again at the idea; “but you never told me of all this.”“No, sir,” replied Jack, “I have always reserved my stories for the Governor’s table, where I am sure to meet you, and then telling once does for all.”Jack received his appointment as orderly midshipman, and everything went on well; for, of his own accord, he stayed on board the major part of the day to learn his duty, which very much pleased the captain and Mr Pottyfar. In this Jack showed a great deal of good sense, and Captain Wilson did not repent of the indulgence he had shown him. Jack’s health improved daily, much to Mr Pottyfar’s satisfaction, who imagined that he took the universal medicine night and morning. Gascoigne also was a patient under the first lieutenant’s hands, and often on shore with our hero, who thought no more of quitting the service.For seven weeks they had now remained in harbour, for even the masts had to be made, when, one day, Captain Wilson opened a letter he received at breakfast-time, and having read it, laid it down with the greatest surprise depicted in his countenance. “Good heavens! what can this mean?” said he.“What’s the matter, Wilson?” said the Governor.“Just hear its contents, Sir Thomas.”Captain Wilson then read in Spanish as follows:—“Honourable Sir:—“It is my duty to advise you that the Honourable Lady Signora Alforgas de Guzman, now deceased, has, in her testament, bequeathed to you the sum of one thousand doubloons in gold as a testimony of your kind services on the night of the 12th of August. If you will authorise any merchant here to receive the money, it shall be paid forthwith, or remitted in any way you please to appoint. May you live a thousand years.“Your most obedient servant:—“Alfonzo Xerez.”Jack heard the letter read, rose quietly, whistled low, as if not attending to it, and then slipped out of the room, unperceived by the Governor or Captain Wilson.The fact was, that although Jack had longed to tell the Governor about his adventures after the masquerade, he did not like yet awhile, until he was sure that there were no consequences—because he had given the captain’s name instead of his own. As soon as he heard the letter read, he at once perceived that it had been the old lady, and not the priests, who had made the inquiry, and that by giving Captain Wilson’s name he had obtained for him this fine legacy. Jack was delighted, but still puzzled, so he walked out of the room to reflect a little.“What can it mean?” said Captain Wilson. “I never rendered any services to any one on the 12th of August or after it. It is some mistake—12th of August—that was the day of the grand masquerade.”“A lucky one for you, at all events—for you know, mistake or not, no one else can touch the legacy. It can only be paid to you.”“I never heard of anything taking place at the masquerade—I was there, but I left early, for I was not very well. Mr Easy,” said Captain Wilson, turning round, but Jack was gone.“Was he at the masquerade?” asked the Governor.“Yes, I know he was, for the first lieutenant told me that he requested not to come on board till the next day.”“Depend upon it,” replied the Governor, striking his fist upon the table, “that Jack’s at the bottom of it.”“I should not be surprised at his being at the bottom of anything,” replied Captain Wilson, laughing.“Leave it to me, Wilson, I’ll find it out.”After a little more conversation, Captain Wilson went on board, leaving Jack on purpose that the Governor might pump him. But this Sir Thomas had no occasion to do, for Jack had made up his mind to make the Governor his confidant, and he immediately told him the whole story. The Governor held his sides at our hero’s description, especially at his ruse of giving the captain’s name instead of his own.“You’ll kill me, Jack, before you’ve done with me,” said old Tom, at last; “but now what is to be done?”Our hero now became grave; he pointed out to the Governor that he himself had plenty of money, and would come into a large fortune, and that Captain Wilson was poor, with a large family. All Jack wished the Governor to manage was, that Captain Wilson might consent to accept the legacy.“Right, boy, right! you’re my own boy,” replied the Governor; “but we must think of this, for Wilson is the very soul of honour, and there may be some difficulty about it. You have told nobody?”“Not a soul but you, Sir Thomas.”“It never will do to tell him all this, Jack, for he would insist that the legacy belonged to you.”“I have it, sir,” replied Jack. “When I was going into the masquerade, I offered to hand this very old lady, who was covered with diamonds, out of her carriage, and she was so frightened at my dress of a devil, that she would have fallen down had it not been for Captain Wilson, who supported her, and she was very thankful to him.”“You are right, Jack,” replied the Governor, after a short pause; “that will, I think, do. I must tell him the story of the friars, because I swore you had something to do with it—but I’ll tell him no more: leave it all to me.”Captain Wilson returned in the afternoon, and found the Governor in the veranda.“I have had some talk with young Easy,” said the Governor, “and he has told me a strange story about that night, which he was afraid to tell to everybody.”The Governor then narrated the history of the friars and the will.“Well, but,” observed Captain Wilson, “the history of that will afford no clue to the legacy.”“No, it does not; but still, as I said, Jack had a hand in this. He frightened the old lady as a devil, and you caught her in your arms and saved her from falling, so he had a hand in it, you see.”“I do now remember that I did save a very dowager-like old personage from falling at the sight of a devil, who, of course, must have been our friend Easy.”“Well, and that accounts for the whole of it.”“A thousand doubloons for picking up an old lady!”“Yes, why not?—have you not heard of a man having a fortune left him for merely opening the pew-door of a church to an old gentleman?”“Yes, but it appears so strange.”“There’s nothing strange in this world, Wilson, nothing at all—we may slave for years and get no reward, and do a trifle out of politeness and become independent. In my opinion, this mystery is unravelled. The old lady, for I knew the family, must have died immensely rich: she knew you in your full uniform, and she asked your name; a heavy fall would have been to one so fat a most serious affair; you saved her, and she has rewarded you handsomely.”“Well,” replied Captain Wilson, “as I can give no other explanation, I suppose yours is the correct one; but it’s hardly fair to take a thousand doubloons from her relations merely for an act of civility.”“You really are quite ridiculous; the old lady owned half Murcia, to my knowledge. It is no more to them than any one leaving you a suit of mourning in an English legacy. I wish you joy; it will help you with a large family, and in justice to them you are bound to take it. Everybody does as he pleases with his own money,—depend upon it, you saved her from breaking her leg short off at the hip joint.”“Upon that supposition I presume I must accept of the legacy,” replied Captain Wilson, laughing.“Of course, send for it at once. The rate of exchange is now high. I will give you government bills, which will make it nearly four thousand pounds.”“Four thousand pounds for preventing an old woman from falling,” replied Captain Wilson.“Devilish well paid, Wilson, and I congratulate you.”“For how much am I indebted to the father of young Easy!” observed Captain Wilson, after a silence of some minutes; “if he had not assisted me when I was appointed to a ship, I should not have gained my promotion—nor three thousand pounds I have made in prize-money—the command of a fine frigate—and now four thousand pounds in a windfall.”The Governor thought that he was more indebted to Jack than to his father for some of these advantages, but he was careful not to point them out.“It’s very true,” observed the Governor, “that Mr Easy was of service to you when you were appointed; but allow me to observe that for your ship, your prize-money, and for your windfall, you have been wholly indebted to your own gallantry in both senses of the word; still Mr Easy is a fine generous fellow, and so is his son, I can tell you. By-the-bye, I had a long conversation with him the other day.”“About himself?”“Yes, all about himself. He appears to me to have come into the service without any particular motive, and will be just as likely to leave it in the same way. He appears to be very much in love with that Sicilian nobleman’s daughter. I find that he has written to her, and to her brother, since he has been here.”“That he came into the service in search of what he never will find in this world, I know very well; and I presume that he has found that out—and that he will follow up the service is also very doubtful; but I do not wish that he should leave it yet; it is doing him great good,” replied Captain Wilson.“I agree with you there—I have great influence with him, and he shall stay yet awhile. He is heir to a very large fortune, is he not?”“A clear eight thousand pounds a year, if not more.”“If his father dies he must, of course, leave: a midshipman with eight thousand pounds a year would indeed be an anomaly.”“That the service could not permit. It would be as injurious to himself as it would to others about him. At present, he has almost, indeed I may say quite, an unlimited command of money.”“That’s bad, very bad. I wonder he behaves so well as he does.”“And so do I: but he really is a very superior lad, with all his peculiarities, and a general favourite with those whose opinions and friendship are worth having.”“Well, don’t curb him up too tight—for really he does not require it. He goes very well in a snaffle.”

“Well, Jack, my boy, have you any long story ready for me?” inquired the Governor.

“Yes, sir,” replied Jack, “I have one or two very good ones.”

“Very well, we’ll hear them after dinner,” replied old Tom. “In the meantime find out your room and take possession.”

“That must not be for very long, Governor,” observed Captain Wilson. “Mr Easy must learn his duty, and there is a good opportunity now.”

“If you please, sir,” replied Jack, “I’m on the sick-list.”

“Sick-list,” said Captain Wilson; “you were not in the report that Mr Wilson gave me this morning.”

“No, I’m on Mr Pottyfar’s list; and I’m going through a course of the universal medicine.”

“What’s all this, Jack—what’s all this?—there’s some story here—don’t be afraid of the captain—you’ve me to back you,” said the Governor.

Jack was not at all afraid of the captain, so he told him how the first-lieutenant had refused him leave the evening before, and how he had now given him permission to remain, and try the universal medicine, at which the Governor laughed heartily, nor could Captain Wilson refrain from joining.

“But, Mr Easy,” replied the captain, after a pause, “if Mr Pottyfar will allow you to stay on shore, I cannot—you have your duty to learn. You must be aware that now is your time, and you must not lose opportunities that do not occur every day. You must acknowledge the truth of what I say.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Jack, “I admit it all, provided I do intend to follow the profession;” and so saying, our hero bowed, and left the veranda where they had been talking.

This hint of Jack’s, thrown out by him more with the intention of preventing his being sent on board than with any definite idea, was not lost upon either the captain or the Governor.

“Does he jib, then?” observed the Governor.

“On the contrary, I never knew him more attentive and so entirely getting rid of his former notions. He has behaved most nobly in the gale, and there has not been one complaint against him—I never was more astonished—he must have meant something.”

“I’ll tell you what he means, Wilson—that he does not like to be sent on board, nothing more. He’s not to be cooped up—you may lead him, but not drive him.”

“Yes, but the service will not admit of it. I never could allow it—he must do his duty like the rest, and conform to the rules.”

“Exactly, so he must; but look ye, Wilson, you must not lose him: it’s all easily settled—appoint him your orderly midshipman to and from the ship; that will be employment, and he can always remain here at night. I will tell him that I have asked, as a favour, what I now do, and leave me to find out what he is thinking about.”

“It may be done that way, certainly,” replied Captain Wilson, musing; “and you are more likely to get his intentions from him than I am. I am afraid he has too great a command of money ever to be fond of the ship; it is the ruin of a junior officer to be so lavishly supplied.”

“He’s a long way from ruin yet, Wilson—he’s a very fine fellow, even by your own acknowledgment. You humoured him out of gratitude to his father, when he first came into the service; humour him a little now to keep him in it. Besides, if your first lieutenant is such a fool with his universal medicine, can you wonder at a midshipman taking advantage of it?”

“No, but I ought not to allow him to do so with my eyes open.”

“He has made it known to you upon honour, and you ought not to take advantage of his confidence: but still what I proposed would, I think, be the best, for then he will be at his duty in a way that will suit all parties. You, because you employ him on service—the first lieutenant, because Jack can take his medicine—and Jack, because he can dine with me every day.”

“Well, I suppose it must be so,” replied Captain Wilson, laughing; “but still, I trust, you will discover what is working in his mind to induce him to give me that answer, Governor.”

“Never fear, Jack shall confess, and lay his soul as bare as that of a Catholic bigot before his padre.”

The party sat down to dinner, and what with the Governor’s aide-de-camp and those invited, it was pretty numerous. After the cloth had been removed, the Governor called upon Jack for his stories, whereupon, much to the surprise of Captain Wilson, who had never heard one word of it, for the admiral had not mentioned anything about it to him during the short time theAurorawas with the Toulon fleet, our hero gave the Governor and the company the narrative of all that happened in theMary Anntransport—the loves of Captain Hogg and Miss Hicks—the adventures of Gascoigne—and his plan, by which he baulked them all. The Governor was delighted, and Captain Wilson not a little astonished.

“You prevented a very foolish thing, Mr Easy, and behaved very well,” observed the captain, laughing again at the idea; “but you never told me of all this.”

“No, sir,” replied Jack, “I have always reserved my stories for the Governor’s table, where I am sure to meet you, and then telling once does for all.”

Jack received his appointment as orderly midshipman, and everything went on well; for, of his own accord, he stayed on board the major part of the day to learn his duty, which very much pleased the captain and Mr Pottyfar. In this Jack showed a great deal of good sense, and Captain Wilson did not repent of the indulgence he had shown him. Jack’s health improved daily, much to Mr Pottyfar’s satisfaction, who imagined that he took the universal medicine night and morning. Gascoigne also was a patient under the first lieutenant’s hands, and often on shore with our hero, who thought no more of quitting the service.

For seven weeks they had now remained in harbour, for even the masts had to be made, when, one day, Captain Wilson opened a letter he received at breakfast-time, and having read it, laid it down with the greatest surprise depicted in his countenance. “Good heavens! what can this mean?” said he.

“What’s the matter, Wilson?” said the Governor.

“Just hear its contents, Sir Thomas.”

Captain Wilson then read in Spanish as follows:—

“Honourable Sir:—

“It is my duty to advise you that the Honourable Lady Signora Alforgas de Guzman, now deceased, has, in her testament, bequeathed to you the sum of one thousand doubloons in gold as a testimony of your kind services on the night of the 12th of August. If you will authorise any merchant here to receive the money, it shall be paid forthwith, or remitted in any way you please to appoint. May you live a thousand years.

“Your most obedient servant:—

“Alfonzo Xerez.”

Jack heard the letter read, rose quietly, whistled low, as if not attending to it, and then slipped out of the room, unperceived by the Governor or Captain Wilson.

The fact was, that although Jack had longed to tell the Governor about his adventures after the masquerade, he did not like yet awhile, until he was sure that there were no consequences—because he had given the captain’s name instead of his own. As soon as he heard the letter read, he at once perceived that it had been the old lady, and not the priests, who had made the inquiry, and that by giving Captain Wilson’s name he had obtained for him this fine legacy. Jack was delighted, but still puzzled, so he walked out of the room to reflect a little.

“What can it mean?” said Captain Wilson. “I never rendered any services to any one on the 12th of August or after it. It is some mistake—12th of August—that was the day of the grand masquerade.”

“A lucky one for you, at all events—for you know, mistake or not, no one else can touch the legacy. It can only be paid to you.”

“I never heard of anything taking place at the masquerade—I was there, but I left early, for I was not very well. Mr Easy,” said Captain Wilson, turning round, but Jack was gone.

“Was he at the masquerade?” asked the Governor.

“Yes, I know he was, for the first lieutenant told me that he requested not to come on board till the next day.”

“Depend upon it,” replied the Governor, striking his fist upon the table, “that Jack’s at the bottom of it.”

“I should not be surprised at his being at the bottom of anything,” replied Captain Wilson, laughing.

“Leave it to me, Wilson, I’ll find it out.”

After a little more conversation, Captain Wilson went on board, leaving Jack on purpose that the Governor might pump him. But this Sir Thomas had no occasion to do, for Jack had made up his mind to make the Governor his confidant, and he immediately told him the whole story. The Governor held his sides at our hero’s description, especially at his ruse of giving the captain’s name instead of his own.

“You’ll kill me, Jack, before you’ve done with me,” said old Tom, at last; “but now what is to be done?”

Our hero now became grave; he pointed out to the Governor that he himself had plenty of money, and would come into a large fortune, and that Captain Wilson was poor, with a large family. All Jack wished the Governor to manage was, that Captain Wilson might consent to accept the legacy.

“Right, boy, right! you’re my own boy,” replied the Governor; “but we must think of this, for Wilson is the very soul of honour, and there may be some difficulty about it. You have told nobody?”

“Not a soul but you, Sir Thomas.”

“It never will do to tell him all this, Jack, for he would insist that the legacy belonged to you.”

“I have it, sir,” replied Jack. “When I was going into the masquerade, I offered to hand this very old lady, who was covered with diamonds, out of her carriage, and she was so frightened at my dress of a devil, that she would have fallen down had it not been for Captain Wilson, who supported her, and she was very thankful to him.”

“You are right, Jack,” replied the Governor, after a short pause; “that will, I think, do. I must tell him the story of the friars, because I swore you had something to do with it—but I’ll tell him no more: leave it all to me.”

Captain Wilson returned in the afternoon, and found the Governor in the veranda.

“I have had some talk with young Easy,” said the Governor, “and he has told me a strange story about that night, which he was afraid to tell to everybody.”

The Governor then narrated the history of the friars and the will.

“Well, but,” observed Captain Wilson, “the history of that will afford no clue to the legacy.”

“No, it does not; but still, as I said, Jack had a hand in this. He frightened the old lady as a devil, and you caught her in your arms and saved her from falling, so he had a hand in it, you see.”

“I do now remember that I did save a very dowager-like old personage from falling at the sight of a devil, who, of course, must have been our friend Easy.”

“Well, and that accounts for the whole of it.”

“A thousand doubloons for picking up an old lady!”

“Yes, why not?—have you not heard of a man having a fortune left him for merely opening the pew-door of a church to an old gentleman?”

“Yes, but it appears so strange.”

“There’s nothing strange in this world, Wilson, nothing at all—we may slave for years and get no reward, and do a trifle out of politeness and become independent. In my opinion, this mystery is unravelled. The old lady, for I knew the family, must have died immensely rich: she knew you in your full uniform, and she asked your name; a heavy fall would have been to one so fat a most serious affair; you saved her, and she has rewarded you handsomely.”

“Well,” replied Captain Wilson, “as I can give no other explanation, I suppose yours is the correct one; but it’s hardly fair to take a thousand doubloons from her relations merely for an act of civility.”

“You really are quite ridiculous; the old lady owned half Murcia, to my knowledge. It is no more to them than any one leaving you a suit of mourning in an English legacy. I wish you joy; it will help you with a large family, and in justice to them you are bound to take it. Everybody does as he pleases with his own money,—depend upon it, you saved her from breaking her leg short off at the hip joint.”

“Upon that supposition I presume I must accept of the legacy,” replied Captain Wilson, laughing.

“Of course, send for it at once. The rate of exchange is now high. I will give you government bills, which will make it nearly four thousand pounds.”

“Four thousand pounds for preventing an old woman from falling,” replied Captain Wilson.

“Devilish well paid, Wilson, and I congratulate you.”

“For how much am I indebted to the father of young Easy!” observed Captain Wilson, after a silence of some minutes; “if he had not assisted me when I was appointed to a ship, I should not have gained my promotion—nor three thousand pounds I have made in prize-money—the command of a fine frigate—and now four thousand pounds in a windfall.”

The Governor thought that he was more indebted to Jack than to his father for some of these advantages, but he was careful not to point them out.

“It’s very true,” observed the Governor, “that Mr Easy was of service to you when you were appointed; but allow me to observe that for your ship, your prize-money, and for your windfall, you have been wholly indebted to your own gallantry in both senses of the word; still Mr Easy is a fine generous fellow, and so is his son, I can tell you. By-the-bye, I had a long conversation with him the other day.”

“About himself?”

“Yes, all about himself. He appears to me to have come into the service without any particular motive, and will be just as likely to leave it in the same way. He appears to be very much in love with that Sicilian nobleman’s daughter. I find that he has written to her, and to her brother, since he has been here.”

“That he came into the service in search of what he never will find in this world, I know very well; and I presume that he has found that out—and that he will follow up the service is also very doubtful; but I do not wish that he should leave it yet; it is doing him great good,” replied Captain Wilson.

“I agree with you there—I have great influence with him, and he shall stay yet awhile. He is heir to a very large fortune, is he not?”

“A clear eight thousand pounds a year, if not more.”

“If his father dies he must, of course, leave: a midshipman with eight thousand pounds a year would indeed be an anomaly.”

“That the service could not permit. It would be as injurious to himself as it would to others about him. At present, he has almost, indeed I may say quite, an unlimited command of money.”

“That’s bad, very bad. I wonder he behaves so well as he does.”

“And so do I: but he really is a very superior lad, with all his peculiarities, and a general favourite with those whose opinions and friendship are worth having.”

“Well, don’t curb him up too tight—for really he does not require it. He goes very well in a snaffle.”

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