"Terence O'Brien."
This was indeed joyful intelligence. I handed the letter to General O'Brien, who read it, Celeste hanging over his shoulder, and perusing it at the same time.
"This is well," said the General. "Peter, I wish you joy, and Celeste, I ought to wish you joy also at your future prospects. It will indeed be a gratification if ever I hail you as Lady Privilege."
"Celeste," said I, "you did not reject me when I was pennyless, and in disgrace. O my poor sister Ellen! If I could but find you, how happy should I be!"
I sat down to write to O'Brien, acquainting him with all that had occurred, and the loss of my dear sister. The day after the receipt of my letter, O'Brien burst into the room. After the first moments of congratulation were past, he said, "My heart's broke, Peter, about your sister Ellen: find her I must. I shall give up my ship, for I'll never give up the search as long as I live. I must find her."
"Do, pray, my dear O'Brien, and I only wish—"
"Wish what, Peter? shall I tell you what I wish?—that if I find her, you'll give her to me for my trouble."
"As far as I am concerned, O'Brien, nothing would give me greater pleasure; but God knows to what wretchedness and want may have compelled her."
"Shame on you, Peter, to think so of your sister. I pledge my honour for her. Poor, miserable, and unhappy she may be—but no—no, Peter. You don't know—you don't love her as I do, if you can allow such thoughts to enter your mind."
This conversation took place at the window: we then turned round toGeneral O'Brien and Celeste.
"Captain O'Brien," said the general.
"Sir Terence O'Brien, if you please, general. His Majesty has given me a handle to my name."
"I congratulate you, Sir Terence," said the general, shaking him by the hand: "what I was about to say is, that I hope you will take up your quarters at this hotel, and we will all live together. I trust that we shall soon find Ellen: in the meanwhile we have no time to lose, in our exposure of Lord Privilege. Is the woman in town?"
"Yes, and under lock and key; but the devil a fear of her. Millions would not bribe her to wrong him who risked his life for her husband. She's Irish, general, to the back bone. Nevertheless, Peter, we must go to our solicitor, to give the intelligence, that he may take the necessary steps."
For three weeks, O'Brien was diligent in his search for Ellen, employing every description of emissary without success. In the meanwhile, the general and I were prosecuting our cause against Lord Privilege. One morning, Lord Belmore called upon us, and asked the general if we would accompany him to the theatre, to see two celebrated pieces performed. In the latter, which was a musical farce, a new performer was to come out, of whom report spoke highly. Celeste consented, and after an early dinner, we joined his lordship in his private box, which was above the stage, on the first tier. The first piece was played, and Celeste, who had never seen the performance of Young, was delighted. The curtain then drew up for the second piece. In the second act, the new performer, a Miss Henderson, was led by the manager on the stage; she was apparently much frightened and excited, but three rounds of applause gave her courage, and she proceeded. At the very first notes of her voice I was startled, and O'Brien, who was behind, threw himself forward to look at her; but as we were almost directly above, and her head was turned the other way, we could not distinguish her features. As she proceeded in her song, she gained courage, and her face was turned towards us, and she cast her eyes up—saw me—the recognition was mutual—I held out my arm, but could not speak—she staggered, and fell down in a swoon.
"'Tis Ellen!" cried O'Brien, rushing past me; and making one spring down on the stage, he carried her off, before any other person could come to her assistance. I followed him, and found him with Ellen still in his arms, and the actresses assisting in her recovery. The manager came forward to apologize, stating that the young lady was too ill to proceed, and the audience, who had witnessed the behaviour of O'Brien and myself, were satisfied with the romance in real life which had been exhibited. Her part was read by another, but the piece was little attended to, every one trying to find out the occasion of this uncommon occurrence. In the meantime, Ellen was put into a hackney-coach by O'Brien and me, and we drove to the hotel, where we were soon joined by the general and Celeste.
It never rains but it pours, whether it be good or bad news—I succeed in everything, and to everything, my wife, my title, and estate—And "All's well that ends well."
I shall pass over the scenes which followed, and give my sister's history in her own words.
"I wrote to you, my dear Peter, to tell you that I considered it my duty to pay all my father's debts with your money, and that there were but sixty pounds left when every claim had been satisfied; and I requested you to come to me as soon as you could, that I might have your counsel and assistance as to my future arrangements."
"I received your letter, Ellen, and was hastening to you, when—but no matter, I will tell my story afterwards."
"Day after day I waited with anxiety for a letter, and then wrote to the officers of the ship to know if any accident had occurred. I received an answer from the surgeon, informing me that you had quitted Portsmouth to join me, and had not since been heard of. You may imagine my distress at this communication, as I did not doubt but that something dreadful had occurred, as I knew, too well, that nothing would have detained you from me at such a time. The new vicar appointed had come down to look over the house, and to make arrangements for bringing in his family. The furniture he had previously agreed to take at a valuation, and the sum had been appropriated in liquidation of your father's debts. I had already been permitted to remain longer than was usual, and had no alternative but to quit, which I did not do until the last moment. I could not leave my address, for I knew not where I was to go. I took my place in the coach, and arrived in London. My first object was to secure the means of livelihood, by offering myself as a governess; but I found great difficulties from not being able to procure a good reference, and from not having already served in that capacity. At last I was taken into a family to bring up three little girls; but I soon found out how little chance I had of comfort. The lady had objected to me as too good-looking—for this same reason the gentleman insisted upon my being engaged.
"Thus was I a source of disunion; the lady treated me with harshness, and the gentleman with too much attention. At last her ill-treatment and his persecution, were both so intolerable, that I gave notice that I should leave my situation."
"I beg pardon, Miss Ellen, but you will oblige me with the name and residence of that gentleman?" said O'Brien.
"Indeed, Ellen, do no such thing," replied I; "continue your story."
"I could not obtain another situation as governess; for, as I always stated where I had been, and did not choose to give the precise reason for quitting, merely stating that I was not comfortable, whenever the lady was called upon for my character, she invariably spoke of me so as to prevent my obtaining a situation. At last I was engaged as teacher to a school. I had better have taken a situation as housemaid. I was expected to be everywhere, to do everything; was up at daylight, and never in bed till past midnight; fared very badly, and was equally ill paid; but still it was honest employment, and I remained there for more than a year; but, though as economical as possible, my salary would not maintain me in clothes and washing, which was all I required. There was a master of elocution, who came every week, and whose wife was the teacher of music. They took a great liking to me, and pointed out how much better I should be off if I could succeed on the stage, of which they had no doubt. For months I refused, hoping still to have some tidings of you; but at last my drudgery became so insupportable, and my means so decreased, that I unwillingly consented. It was then nineteen months since I had heard of you, and I mourned you as dead. I had no relations except my uncle, and I was unknown even to him. I quitted the situation, and took up my abode with the teacher of elocution and his wife, who treated me with every kindness, and prepared me for my new career. Neither at the school, which was three miles from London, nor at my new residence, which was over Westminster-bridge, did I ever see a newspaper. It was no wonder, therefore, that I did not know of your advertisements. After three months' preparation I was recommended and introduced to the manager by my kind friends, and accepted. You know the rest."
"Well, Miss Ellen, if any one ever tells you that you were on the stage, at all events you may reply that you wasn't there long."
"I trust not long enough to be recognised," replied she. "I recollect how often I have expressed my disgust at those who would thus consent to exhibit themselves; but circumstances strangely alter our feelings. I do, however, trust that I should have been respectable, even as an actress."
"That you would, Miss Ellen," replied O'Brien. "What did I tell you,Peter?"
"You pledged your honour that nothing would induce Ellen to disgrace her family, I recollect, O'Brien."
"Thank you, Sir Terence, for your good opinion," replied Ellen.
My sister had been with us about three days, during which I had informed her of all that had taken place, when, one evening, finding myself alone with her, I candidly stated to her what were O'Brien's feelings towards her, and pleaded his cause with all the earnestness in my power.
"My dear brother," she replied, "I have always admired Captain O'Brien's character, and always have felt grateful to him for his kindness and attachment to you; but I cannot say that I love him. I have never thought about him except as one to whom we are both much indebted."
"But do you mean to say that you could not love him?"
"No, I do not; and I will do all I can, Peter—I will try. I never will, if possible, make him unhappy who has been so kind to you."
"Depend upon it, Ellen, that with your knowledge of O'Brien, and with feelings of gratitude to him, you will soon love him, if once you accept him as a suitor. May I tell him—"
"You may tell him that he may plead his own cause, my dear brother; and, at all events, I will listen to no other until he has had fair play; but recollect that at present I onlylikehim—like himvery much,it is true; but still I onlylikehim."
I was quite satisfied with my success, and so was O'Brien, when I told him. "By the powers, Peter, she's an angel, and I can't expect her to love an inferior being like myself; but if she'll only like me well enough to marry me, I'll trust to after-marriage for the rest. Love comes with the children, Peter. Well, but you need not say that to her— divil a bit—they shall come upon her like old age, without her perceiving it."
O'Brien having thus obtained permission, certainly lost no time in taking advantage of it. Celeste and I were more fondly attached every day. The solicitor declared my case so good, that he could raise fifty thousand pounds upon it. In short, all our causes were prosperous, when an event occurred, the details of which, of course, I did not obtain until some time afterwards, but which I shall narrate here.
My uncle was very much alarmed when he discovered that I had been released from Bedlam—still more so, when he had notice given him of a suit, relative to the succession to the title. His emissaries had discovered that the wet-nurse had been brought home in O'Brien's frigate, and was kept so close that they could not communicate with her. He now felt that all his schemes would prove abortive. His legal adviser was with him, and they had been walking in the garden, talking over the contingencies, when they stopped close to the drawing-room windows of the mansion at Eagle Park.
"But, sir," observed the lawyer, "if you will not confide in me, I cannot act for your benefit. You still assert that nothing of the kind has taken place?"
"I do," replied his lordship. "It is a foul invention."
"Then, my lord, may I ask you why you considered it advisable to imprison Mr Simple in Bedlam?"
"Because I hate him," retorted his lordship,—"detest him."
"And for what reason, my lord? his character is unimpeached, and he is your near relative."
"I tell you, sir, that I hate him—would that he were now lying dead at my feet!"
Hardly were the words out of my uncle's mouth, when a whizzing was heard for a second, and then something fell down within a foot of where they stood, with a heavy crash. They started—turned round—the adopted heir lay lifeless at their feet, and their legs were bespattered with his blood and his brains. The poor boy, seeing his lordship below, had leaned out of one of the upper windows to call to him, but lost his balance, and had fallen head foremost upon the wide stone pavement which surrounded the mansion. For a few seconds the lawyer and my uncle looked upon each other with horror.
"A judgment!—a judgment!" cried the lawyer, looking at his client. My uncle covered his face with his hands, and fell. Assistance now came out, but there was more than one to help up. The violence of his emotion had brought on an apoplectic fit, and my uncle, although he breathed, never spoke again.
It was in consequence of this tragical event, of which we did not know the particulars until afterwards, that the next morning my solicitor called upon me, and put a letter into my hand, saying, "Allow me to congratulate your lordship." We were all at breakfast at the time, and the general, O'Brien, and myself jumped up, all in such astonishment at this unexpected title being so soon conferred upon me, that we had a heavy bill for damages to pay; and had not Ellen caught the tea-urn, as it was tipping over, there would, in all probability, have been a doctor's bill into the bargain. The letter was eagerly read—it was from my uncle's legal adviser, who had witnessed the catastrophe, informing me, that all dispute as to the succession was at an end by the tragical event that had taken place, and that he had put seals upon everything, awaiting my arrival or instructions. The solicitor, as he presented the letter, said that he would take his leave, and call again in an hour or two, when I was more composed. My first movement, when I had read the letter aloud, was to throw my arms round Celeste, and embrace her—and O'Brien, taking the hint, did the same to Ellen, and was excused in consideration of circumstances; but, as soon as she could disengage herself, her arms were entwined round my neck, while Celeste was hanging on her father's. Having disposed of the ladies, the gentlemen now shook hands, and though we had not all appetites to finish our breakfasts, never was there a happier quintette.
In about an hour my solicitor returned, and congratulated me, and immediately set about the necessary preparations. I desired him to go down immediately to Eagle Park, attend to the funeral of my uncle, and the poor little boy who had paid so dearly for his intended advancement, and take charge from my uncle's legal adviser, who remained in the house. The "dreadful accident in high life" found its way into the papers of the day, and before dinner time a pile of visiting cards was poured in, which covered the table. The next day a letter arrived from the First Lord, announcing that he had made out my commission as post-captain, and trusted that I would allow him the pleasure of presenting it himself at his dinner hour, at half-past seven. Very much obliged to him, the "fool of the family" might have waited a long while for it.
While I was reading this letter, the waiter came up to say that a young woman below wanted to speak to me. I desired her to be shown up. As soon as she came in, she burst into tears, knelt down, and kissed my hand.
"Sure, it's you—oh! yes—it's you that saved my poor husband when I was assisting to your ruin. And an't I punished for my wicked doings—an't my poor boy dead?"
She said no more, but remained on her knees, sobbing bitterly. Of course, the reader recognises in her the wet-nurse who had exchanged her child. I raised her up, and desired her to apply to my solicitor to pay her expenses, and leave her address.
"But do you forgive me, Mr Simple? It's not that I have forgiven myself."
"I do forgive you with all my heart, my good woman. You have been punished enough."
"I have, indeed," replied she, sobbing; "but don't I deserve it all, and more too? God's blessing, and all the saints' too, upon your head, for your kind forgiveness, anyhow. My heart is lighter." And she quitted the room.
She had scarcely quitted the hotel, when the waiter came up again. "Another lady, my lord, wishes to speak with you, but she won't give her name."
"Really, my lord, you seem to have an extensive female acquaintance," said the general.
"At all events, I am not aware of any that I need be ashamed of. Show the lady up, waiter."
In a moment entered a fat, unwieldly little mortal, very warm from walking; she sat down in a chair, threw back her tippet, and then exclaimed, "Lord bless you, how you have grown! Gemini, if I can hardly believe my eyes; and I declare he don't know me."
"I really cannot exactly recollect where I had the pleasure of seeing you before, madam."
"Well, that's what I said to Jemima, when I went down in the kitchen.'Jemima,' says I, 'I wonder if little Peter Simple will know me.' AndJemima says, 'I think he would the parrot, marm.'"
"Mrs Handycock, I believe," said I, recollecting Jemima and the parrot, although, from a little thin woman, she had grown so fat as not to be recognisable.
"Oh! so you've found me out, Mr Simple—my lord, I ought to say. Well, I need not ask after your grandfather now, for I know he's dead; but as I was coming this way for orders, I thought I would just step in and see how you looked."
"I trust Mr Handycock is well, ma'am. Pray is he a bull or a bear?"
"Lord bless you, Mr Simple, my lord, I should say, he's been neither bull nor bear for this three years. He was obliged towaddle. If I didn't know much about bulls and bears, I know very well what alame duckis, to my cost. We're off the Stock Exchange, and Mr Handycock is set up as a coal merchant."
"Indeed!"
"Yes; that is, we have no coals, but we take orders, and have half-a-crown a chaldron for our trouble. As Mr Handycock says, it's a very good business, if you only had enough of it. Perhaps your lordship may be able to give us an order. It's nothing out of your pocket, and something into ours."
"I shall be very happy, when I return again to town, Mrs Handycock. I hope the parrot is quite well."
"Oh! my lord, that's a sore subject; only think of Mr Handycock, when we retired from the 'Change, taking my parrot one day and selling it for five guineas, saying, five guineas were better than a nasty squalling bird. To be sure, there was nothing for dinner that day; but, as Jemima agreed with me, we'd rather have gone without a dinner for a month, than have parted with Poll. Since we've looked up a little in the world, I saved up five guineas, by hook or by crook, and tried to get Poll back again, but the lady said she wouldn't take fifty guineas for him."
Mrs Handycock then jumped from her chair, saying, "Good morning, my lord; I'll leave one of Mr Handycock's cards. Jemima would be so glad to see you."
As she left the room, Celeste laughingly asked me whether I had any more such acquaintances. I replied, that I believed not; but I must acknowledge that Mrs Trotter was brought to my recollection, and I was under some alarm, lest she should also come and pay me her respects.
The next day I had another unexpected visit. We had just sat down to dinner, when we heard a disturbance below; and, shortly after, the general's French servant came up in great haste, saying that there was a foreigner below, who wished to see me: and that he had been caning one of the waiters of the hotel, for not paying him proper respect.
"Who can that be?" thought I: and I went out of the door, and looked over the banisters, as the noise continued.
"You must not come here to beat Englishmen, I can tell you," roared one of the waiters. "What do we care for your foreign counts?"
"Sacre, canaille?" cried the other party, in a contemptuous voice, whichI well knew.
"Ay, canal!—we'll duck you in the canal, if you don't mind."
"You will!" said the stranger, who had hitherto spoken French. "Allow me to observe—in the most delicate manner in the world—just to hint, that you are a d——d trencher-scraping, napkin-carrying, shilling-seeking, up-and-down-stairs son of a bitch—and take this for your impudence!"
The noise of the cane was again heard; and I hastened downstairs, where I found Count Shucksen thrashing two or three of the waiters without mercy. At my appearance, the waiters, who were showing fight, retreated to a short distance, out of reach of the cane.
"My dear count," exclaimed I, "is it you?"
"My dear Lord Privilege, will you excuse me? but these fellows are saucy."
"Then I'll have them discharged," replied I. "If a friend of mine, and an officer of your rank and distinction, cannot come to see me without insult, I will seek another hotel."
This threat of mine, and the reception I gave the count, put all to rights. The waiters sneaked off, and the master of the hotel apologised. It appeared that they had desired him to wait in the coffee-room until they could announce him, which had hurt the count's dignity.
"We are just sitting down to dinner, count; will you join us?"
"As soon as I have improved my toilet, my dear lord," replied he; "you must perceive that I am off a journey."
The master of the hotel bowed, and proceeded to show the count to a dressing-room. When I returned upstairs—"What was the matter?" inquired O'Brien.
"Oh, nothing!—a little disturbance in consequence of a foreigner not understanding English."
In about five minutes the waiter opened the door, and announced CountShucksen.
"Now, O'Brien, you'll be puzzled," said I; and in came the count.
"My dear Lord Privilege," said he, coming up and taking me by the hand, "let me not be the last to congratulate you upon your accession. I was running up the channel in my frigate when a pilot-boat gave me a newspaper, in which I saw your unexpected change of circumstances. I made an excuse for dropping my anchor at Spithead this morning, and I have come up post, to express how sincerely I participate in your good fortune." Count Shucksen then politely saluted the ladies and the general, and turned round to O'Brien, who had been staring at him with astonishment. "Count Shucksen, allow me to introduce Sir Terence O'Brien."
"By the piper that played before Moses, but it's a puzzle," said O'Brien. "Blood and thunder! if it a'n't Chucks!—my dear fellow, when did you rise from your grave?"
"Fortunately," replied the count, as they shook each other's hands for some time, "I never went into it, Sir Terence. But now, with your permission, my lord, I'll take some food, as I really am not a little hungry. After dinner, Captain O'Brien, you shall hear my history."
His secret was confided to the whole party, upon my pledging myself for their keeping it locked up in their own breasts, which was a bold thing on my part, considering that two of them were ladies. The count stayed with us for some time, and was introduced everywhere. It was impossible to discover that he had not been bred up in a court, his manners were so good. He was a great favourite with the ladies; and his moustachios, bad French, and waltzing—an accomplishment he had picked up in Sweden—were quite the vogue. All the ladies were sorry when the Swedish count announced his departure by a P.P.C.
Before I left town I called upon the First Lord of the Admiralty, and procured for Swinburne a first-rate building—that is to say, ordered to be built. This he had often said he wished, as he was tired of the sea, after a service of forty-five years. Subsequently I obtained leave of absence for him every year, and he used to make himself very happy at Eagle Park. Most of his time was, however, passed on the lake, either fishing or rowing about; telling long stories to all who would join him in his water excursions.
A fortnight after my assuming my title, we set off for Eagle Park, and Celeste consented to my entreaties that the wedding should take place that day month. Upon this hint O'Brien spake; and, to obligeme, Ellen consented that we should be united on the same day.
O'Brien wrote to Father M'Grath; but the letter was returned by post, with "dead" marked upon the outside. O'Brien then wrote to one of his sisters, who informed him that Father M'Grath would cross the bog one evening when he had taken a very large proportion of whisky; and that he was seen out of the right path, and had never been heard of afterwards.
On the day appointed we were all united, and both unions have been attended with as much happiness as this world can afford. Both O'Brien and I are blessed with children, which, as O'Brien observed, have come upon us like old age, until we now can muster a large Christmas party in the two families. The general's head is white, and he sits and smiles, happy in his daughter's happiness, and in the gambols of his grandchildren.
Such, reader, is the history of Peter Simple, Viscount Privilege, no longer the fool, but the head of the family, who now bids you farewell.
The Three Cutters
Reader, have you ever been at Plymouth? If you have, your eye must have dwelt with ecstasy upon the beautiful property of the Earl of Mount Edgcumbe: if you have not been at Plymouth, the sooner that you go there, the better. At Mount Edgcumbe you will behold the finest timber in existence, towering up to the summits of the hills, and feathering down to the shingle on the beach. And from this lovely spot you will witness one of the most splendid panoramas in the world. You will see—I hardly know what you will not see—you will see Ram Head, and Cawsand Bay; and then you will see the Breakwater, and Drake's Island, and the Devil's Bridge below you; and the town of Plymouth and its fortifications, and the Hoe; and then you will come to the Devil's Point, round which the tide runs devilish strong; and then you will see the New Victualling Office,—about which Sir James Gordon used to stump all day, and take a pinch of snuff from every man who carried a box, which all were delighted to give, and he was delighted to receive, proving how much pleasure may be communicated merely by a pinch of snuff—and then you will see Mount Wise and Mutton Cove; the town of Devonport, with its magnificent dockyard and arsenals, North Corner, and the way which leads to Saltash. And you will see ships building and ships in ordinary; and ships repairing and ships fitting; and hulks and convict ships, and the guardship; ships ready to sail and ships under sail; besides lighters, men-of-war's boats, dockyard-boats, bumboats, and shore-boats. In short, there is a great deal to see at Plymouth besides the sea itself: but what I particularly wish now, is, that you will stand at the battery of Mount Edgecumbe and look into Barn Pool below you, and there you will see, lying at single anchor, a cutter; and you may also see, by her pendant and ensign, that she is a yacht.
Of all the amusements entered into by the nobility and gentry of our island there is not one so manly, so exciting, so patriotic, or so national, as yacht-sailing. It is peculiar to England, not only from our insular position and our fine harbours, but because it requires a certain degree of energy and a certain amount of income rarely to be found elsewhere. It has been wisely fostered by our sovereigns, who have felt that the security of the kingdom is increased by every man being more or less a sailor, or connected with the nautical profession. It is an amusement of the greatest importance to the country; as it has much improved our ship-building and our ship-fitting, while it affords employment to our seamen and shipwrights. But if I were to say all that I could say in praise of yachts, I should never advance with my narrative. I shall therefore drink a bumper to the health of Admiral Lord Yarborough and the Yacht Club, and proceed.
You observe that this yacht is cutter-rigged, and that she sits gracefully on the smooth water. She is just heaving up her anchor; her foresail is loose, all ready to cast her—in a few minutes she will be under weigh. You see that there are some ladies sitting at the taffrail; and there are five haunches of venison hanging over the stern. Of all amusements, give me yachting. But we must go on board. The deck, you observe, is of narrow deal planks as white as snow; the guns are of polished brass; the bitts and binnacles of mahogany; she is painted with taste; and all the mouldings are gilded. There is nothing wanting; and yet how clear and unencumbered are her decks! Let us go below. This is the ladies' cabin: can anything be more tasteful or elegant? is it not luxurious? and, although so small, does not its very confined space astonish you, when you view so many comforts so beautifully arranged? This is the dining-room, and where the gentlemen repair. What can be more complete orrecherché? and just peep into their state-rooms and bed-places. Here is the steward's room and the beaufet: the steward is squeezing lemons for the punch, and there is the champagne in ice; and by the side of the pail the long-corks are ranged up, all ready. Now, let us go forwards: here are the men's berths, not confined as in a man-of-war. No! luxury starts from abaft, and is not wholly lost, even at the fore-peak. This is the kitchen: is it not admirably arranged? What amultum in parvo! And how delightful are the fumes of the turtle-soup! At sea we do meet with rough weather at times; but, for roughing it out, give me ayacht. Now that I have shown you round the vessel, I must introduce the parties on board.
You observe that florid, handsome man in white trousers and blue jacket, who has a telescope in one hand, and is sipping a glass of brandy and water which he has just taken off the skylight. That is the owner of the vessel, and a member of the Yacht Club. It is Lord B—: he looks like a sailor, and he does not much belie his looks; yet I have seen him in his robes of state at the opening of the House of Lords. The one near to him is Mr Stewart, a lieutenant in the navy. He holds on by the rigging with one hand, because, having been actively employed all his life, he does not know what to do with hands which have nothing in them. He isprotégéof Lord B., and is now on board as sailing-master of the yacht.
That handsome, well-built man who is standing by the binnacle, is a Mr Hautaine. He served six years as midshipman in the navy, and did not like it. He then served six years in a cavalry regiment, and did not like it. He then married, and in a much shorter probation, found that he did not like that. But he is very fond of yachts and other men's wives, if he does not like his own; and wherever he goes, he is welcome.
That young man with an embroidered silk waistcoat and white gloves, bending to talk to one of the ladies, is a Mr Vaughan. He is to be seen at Almack's, at Crockford's, and everywhere else. Everybody knows him, and he knows everybody. He is a little in debt, and yachting is convenient.
The one who sits by the lady is a relation of Lord B.; you see at once what he is. He apes the sailor; he has not shaved, because sailors have no time to shave every day; he has not changed his linen, because sailors cannot change every day. He has a cigar in his mouth, which makes him half sick and annoys his company. He talks of the pleasure of a rough sea, which will drive all the ladies below—and then they will not perceive that he is more sick than themselves. He has the misfortune to be born to a large estate, and to be afool. His name is Ossulton.
The last of the gentlemen on board whom I have to introduce, is Mr Seagrove. He is slightly made, with marked features full of intelligence. He has been brought up to the bar; and has every qualification but application. He has never had a brief, nor has he a chance of one. He is the fiddler of the company, and he has locked up his chambers, and come, by invitation of his lordship, to play on board of his yacht.
I have yet to describe the ladies—perhaps I should have commenced with them—I must excuse myself upon the principle of reserving the best to the last. All puppet-showmen do so: and what is this but the first scene in my puppet-show?
We will describe them according to seniority. That tall, thin, cross-looking lady of forty-five is a spinster, and sister to Lord B. She has been persuaded very much against her will to come on board; but her notions of propriety would not permit her niece to embark under the protection ofonlyher father. She is frightened at everything: if a rope is thrown down on the deck, up she starts, and cries, "Oh!" if on the deck, she thinks the water is rushing in below; if down below, and there is a noise, she is convinced there is danger; and, if it be perfectly still, she is sure there is something wrong. She fidgets herself and everybody, and is quite a nuisance with her pride and ill-humour; but she has strict notions of propriety, and sacrifices herself as a martyr. She is the Hon. Miss Ossulton.
The lady who, when she smiles, shows so many dimples in her pretty oval face, is a young widow of the name of Lascelles. She married an old man to please her father and mother, which was very dutiful on her part. She was rewarded by finding herself a widow with a large fortune. Having married the first time to please her parents, she intends now to marry to please herself; but she is very young, and is in no hurry.
The young lady with such a sweet expression of countenance is the Hon. Miss Cecilia Ossulton. She is lively, witty, and has no fear in her composition; but she is very young yet, not more than seventeen—and nobody knows what she really is—she does not know herself. These are the parties who meet in the cabin of the yacht. The crew consists of ten fine seamen, the steward, and the cook. There is also Lord B.'s valet, Mr Ossulton's gentleman, and the lady's maid of Miss Ossulton. There not being accommodation for them, the other servants have been left on shore.
The yacht is now under weigh, and her sails are all set. She is running between Drake's Island and the main. Dinner has been announced. As the reader has learnt something about the preparations, I leave him to judge whether it be not very pleasant to sit down to dinner in a yacht. The air has given everybody an appetite; and it was not until the cloth was removed that the conversation became general.
"Mr Seagrove," said his lordship, "you very nearly lost your passage; I expected you last Thursday."
"I am sorry, my lord, that business prevented my sooner attending to your lordship's kind summons."
"Come, Seagrove, don't be nonsensical," said Hautaine; "you told me yourself, the other evening, when you were talkative, that you had never had a brief in your life."
"And a very fortunate circumstance," replied Seagrove; "for if I had had a brief I should not have known what to have done with it. It is not my fault; I am fit for nothing but a commissioner. But still I had business, and very important business, too; I was summoned by Ponsonby to go with him to Tattersall's, to give my opinion about a horse he wishes to purchase, and then to attend him to Forest Wild to plead his cause with his uncle."
"It appears, then, that you were retained," replied Lord B.; "may I ask you whether your friend gained his cause?"
"No, my lord, he lost his cause, but he gained a suit."
"Expound your riddle, sir," said Cecilia Ossulton.
"The fact is, that old Ponsonby is very anxious that William should marry Miss Percival, whose estates join on to Forest Wild. Now, my friend William is about as fond of marriage as I am of law, and thereby issue was joined."
"But why were you to be called in?" inquired Mrs Lascelles.
"Because, madam, as Ponsonby never buys a horse without consulting me—"
"I cannot see the analogy, sir," observed Miss Ossulton, senior, bridling up.
"Pardon me, madam: the fact is," continued Seagrove, "that, as I always have to back Ponsonby's horses, he thought it right that, in this instance, I should back him: he required special pleading, but his uncle tried him for the capital offence, and he was not allowed counsel. As soon as we arrived, and I had bowed myself into the room, Mr Ponsonby bowed me out again—which would have been infinitely more jarring to my feelings, had not the door been left a-jar."
"Do anything but pun, Seagrove," interrupted Hautaine.
"Well, then, I will take a glass of wine."
"Do so," said his lordship; "but, recollect, the whole company are impatient for your story."
"I can assure you, my lord, that it was equal to any scene in a comedy."
Now be it observed that Mr Seagrove had a great deal of comic talent; he was an excellent mimic, and could alter his voice almost as he pleased. It was a custom of his to act a scene as between other people, and he performed it remarkably well. Whenever he said that anything he was going to narrate was "as good as a comedy," it was generally understood by those who were acquainted with him, that he was to be asked so to do. Cecilia Ossulton therefore immediately said, "Pray act it, Mr Seagrove."
Upon which, Mr Seagrove—premising that he had not only heard, but also seen all that passed—changing his voice, and suiting the action to the word, commenced.
"It may," said he, "be called
We shall not describe Mr Seagrove's motions; they must be inferred from his words.
"'It will, then, William,' observed Mr Ponsonby, stopping, and turning to his nephew, after a rapid walk up and down the room with his hands behind him under his coat, so as to allow the tails to drop their perpendicular about three inches clear of his body, 'I may say, without contradiction, be the finest property in the county—five thousand acres in a ring-fence.'
"'I dare say it will, uncle,' replied William, tapping his foot as he lounged in a green morocco easy-chair; 'and so, because you have set your fancy upon having these two estates enclosed together in a ring-fence, you wish that I should also be enclosed in aring-fence.'
"'And a beautiful property it will be,' replied Mr Ponsonby.
"'Which, uncle?—the estate, or the wife?'
"'Both, nephew, both; and I expect your consent.'
"'Uncle, I am not avaricious. Your present property is sufficient for me. With your permission, instead of doubling the property, and doubling myself, I will remain your sole heir, and single.'
"'Observe, William, such an opportunity may not occur again for centuries. We shall restore Forest Wild to its ancient boundaries. You know it has been divided nearly two hundred years. We now have a glorious, golden opportunity of re-uniting the two properties; and when joined, the estate will be exactly what it was when granted to our ancestors by Henry the Eighth, at the period of the Reformation. This house must be pulled down, and the monastery left standing. Then we shall have our own again, and the property without encumbrance.'
"'Without encumbrance, uncle! You forget that there will be a wife.'
"'And you forget that there will be five thousand acres in a ring-fence.'
"'Indeed, uncle, you ring it too often in my ears that I should forget it; but much as I should like to be the happy possessor of such a property, I do not feel inclined to be the happy possessor of Miss Percival; and the more so, as I have never seen the property.'
"'We will ride over it to-morrow, William."
"'Ride over Miss Percival, uncle! That will not be very gallant. I will, however, one of these days, ride over the property with you, which, as well as Miss Percival, I have not as yet seen.'
"'Then I can tell you, she is a very pretty property.'
"'If she were not in a ring-fence.'
"'In good heart, William. That is, I mean an excellent disposition.'
"'Valuable in matrimony.'
"'And well tilled—I should say well-educated, by her thee maiden aunts, who are the patterns of propriety.'
"'Does any one follow the fashion?'
"'In a high state of cultivation; that is, her mind highly cultivated, and according to the last new system—what is it?'
"'A four-course shift, I presume,' replied William, laughing; 'that is, dancing, singing, music, and drawing.'
"'And only seventeen! Capital soil, promising good crops. What would you have more?'
"'A very pretty estate, uncle, if it were not the estate of matrimony. I am sorry, very sorry, to disappoint you; but I must decline taking a lease of it for life.'
"'Then, sir, allow me to hint to you that in my testament you are only tenant-at-will. I consider it a duty that I owe to the family, that the estate should be re-united. That can only be done by one of our family marrying Miss Percival; and, as you will not, I shall now write to your cousin James, and if he accept my proposal, shall makehimmy heir. Probably he will more fully appreciate the advantages of five thousand acres in a ring-fence.'
"And Mr Ponsonby directed his steps towards the door.
"'Stop, my dear uncle,' cried William, rising up from his easy-chair; 'we do not quite understand one another. It is very true that I would prefer half the property and remaining single to the two estates and the estate of marriage; but, at the same time I did not tell you that I would prefer beggary to a wife and five thousand acres in a ring-fence. I know you to be a man of your word;—I accept your proposal, and you need not put my cousin James to the expense of postage.'
"'Very good, William; I require no more: and as I know you to be a man of your word, I shall consider this match as settled. It was on this account only that I sent for you, and now you may go back again as soon as you please. I will let you know when all is ready.'
"'I must be at Tattersall's on Monday, uncle; there is a horse I must have for next season. Pray, uncle, may I ask when you are likely to want me?'
"'Let me see—this is May—about July, I should think.'
"'July, uncle! Spare me—I cannot marry in the dog-days. No, hang it, not July.'
"'Well, William, perhaps, as you must come down once or twice to see the property—Miss Percival, I should say—it may be too soon—suppose we put it off till October.'
"'October—I shall be down at Melton.'
"'Pray, sir, may I then inquire what portion of the year is not, with you,dog-days?'
"'Why, uncle, next April, now—I think that would do.'
"'Next April. Eleven months, and a winter between. Suppose Miss Percival was to take a cold, and die.'
"'I should be excessively obliged to her,' thought William.
"'No! no!' continued Mr Ponsonby: 'there is nothing certain in this world, William.'
"'Well, then, uncle, suppose we arrange it for the firsthard frost.'
"'We have had no hard frosts lately, William.—We may wait for years.— The sooner it is over the better.—Go back to town, buy your horse, and then come down here—my dear William, to oblige your uncle—never mind the dog-days.'
"'Well, sir, if I am to make a sacrifice, it shall not be done by halves; out of respect for you I will even marry in July, without any regard to the thermometer.'
"'You are a good boy, William.—Do you want a cheque?'
"'I have had one to-day,' thought William, and was almost at fault. 'I shall be most thankful, sir—they sell horse-flesh by the ounce now-a-days.'
"'And you pay in pounds.—There, William.'
"'Thank you, sir, I'm all obedience; and I'll keep my word, even if there should be a comet. I'll go and buy the horse, and then I shall be ready to take the ring-fence as soon as you please.'
"'Yes, and you'll get over it cleverly, I've no doubt.—Five thousand acres, William, and—a pretty wife!'
"'Have you any further commands, uncle?' said William, depositing the cheque in his pocket-book.
"'Now, my dear boy, are you going?'
"'Yes, sir; I dine at the Clarendon.'
"'Well, then, good-bye.—Make my compliments and excuses to your friendSeagrove.—You will come on Tuesday or Wednesday.'
"Thus was concluded the marriage between William Ponsonby and Emily Percival, and the junction of the two estates, which formed together the great desideratum,—five thousand acres in a ring-fence."
Mr Seagrove finished, and he looked round for approbation.
"Very good, indeed, Seagrove," said his lordship, "you must take a glass of wine after that."
"I would not give much for Miss Percival's chance of happiness," observed the elder Miss Ossulton.
"Of two evils choose the least, they say," observed Mr Hautaine. "PoorPonsonby could not help himself."
"That's a very polite observation of yours, Mr Hautaine—I thank you in the name of the sex," replied Cecilia Ossulton.
"Nay, Miss Ossulton; would you like to marry a person whom you never saw?"
"Most certainly not; but when you mentioned the two evils, Mr Hautaine,I appeal to your honour, did you not refer to marriage or beggary?"
"I must confess it, Miss Ossulton; but it is hardly fair to call on my honour to get me into a scrape."
"I only wish that the offer had been made to me," observed Vaughan; "I should not have hesitated as Ponsonby did."
"Then I beg you will not think of proposing for me," said Mrs Lascelles, laughing;—for Mr Vaughan had been excessively attentive.
"It appears to me, Vaughan," observed Seagrove, "that you have slightly committed yourself by that remark."
Vaughan, who thought so too, replied: "Mrs Lascelles must be aware thatI was only joking."
"Fie! Mr Vaughan," cried Cecilia Ossulton; "you know it came from your heart."
"My dear Cecilia," said the elder Miss Ossulton, "you forget yourself— what can you possibly know about gentlemen's hearts?"
"The Bible says, 'that they are deceitful and desperately wicked,' aunt."
"And cannot we also quote the Bible against your sex, Miss Ossulton?" replied Seagrove.
"Yes, you could, perhaps, if any of you had ever read it," replied MissOssulton, carelessly.
"Upon my word, Cissy, you are throwing the gauntlet down to the gentlemen," observed Lord B.; "but I shall throw my warder down, and not permit this combatà l'outrance.—I perceive you drink no more wine, gentlemen, we will take our coffee on deck."
"We were just about to retire, my lord," observed the elder MissOssulton, with great asperity: "I have been trying to catch the eye ofMrs Lascelles for some time, but—"
"I was looking another way, I presume," interrupted Mrs Lascelles, smiling.
"I am afraid that I am the unfortunate culprit," said Mr Seagrove. "I was telling a little anecdote to Mrs Lascelles—"
"Which, of course, from its being communicated in an undertone, was not proper for all the company to hear," replied the elder Miss Ossulton; "but if Mrs Lascelles is now ready—" continued she, bridling up, as she rose from her chair. "At all events, I can hear the remainder of it on deck," replied Mrs Lascelles. The ladies rose, and went into the cabin, Cecilia and Mrs Lascelles exchanging very significant smiles, as they followed the precise spinster, who did not choose that Mrs Lascelles should take the lead, merely because she had once happened to have been married.—The gentlemen also broke up, and went on deck.
"We have a nice breeze now, my lord," observed Mr Stewart, who had remained on deck, "and we lie right up Channel."
"So much the better," replied his lordship; "we ought to have been anchored at Cowes a week ago. They will all be there before us."
"Tell Mr Simpson to bring me a light for my cigar," said Mr Ossulton to one of the men.
Mr Stewart went down to his dinner; the ladies and the coffee came on deck; the breeze was fine, the weather (it was April) almost warm; and the yacht, whose name was theArrow, assisted by the tide, soon left the Mewstone far astern.
Reader, have you ever been at Portsmouth? If you have, you must have been delighted with the view from the saluting battery; and, if you have not, you had better go there as soon as you can. From the saluting battery you may look up the harbour, and see much of what I have described at Plymouth; the scenery is different; but similar arsenals and dockyards, and an equal portion of our stupendous navy, are to be found there.—And you will see Gosport on the other side of the harbour, and Sally Port close to you; besides a great many other places, which, from the saluting battery, you cannot see. And then there is Southsea Beach to your left. Before you, Spithead, with the men-of-war, and the Motherbank, crowded with merchant vessels;—and there is the buoy where theRoyal Georgewas wrecked, and where she still lies, the fish swimming in and out of her cabin windows; but that is not all; you can also see the Isle of Wight,—Ryde, with its long wooden pier, and Cowes, where the yachts lie. In fact, there is a great deal to be seen at Portsmouth as well as at Plymouth; but what I wish you particularly to see, just now, is a vessel holding fast to the buoy, just off the saluting battery. She is a cutter; and you may know that she belongs to the Preventive Service by the number of gigs and galleys which she has hoisted up all round her. She looks like a vessel that was about to sail with a cargo of boats. Two on deck, one astern, one on each side of her. You observe that she is painted black, and all her boats are white. She is not such an elegant vessel as the yacht, and she is much more lumbered up. She has no haunches of venison over the stern; but I think there is a leg of mutton, and some cabbages hanging by their stalks. But revenue-cutters are not yachts.—You will find no turtle or champagne; but, nevertheless, you will, perhaps, find a joint to carve at, a good glass of grog, and a hearty welcome.
Let us go on board.—You observe the guns are iron, and painted black, and her bulwarks are painted red; it is not a very becoming colour; but then it lasts a long while, and the dock-yard is not very generous on the score of paint—or lieutenants of the navy troubled with much spare cash. She has plenty of men, and fine men they are; all dressed in red flannel shirts, and blue trousers; some of them have not taken off their canvas or tarpaulin petticoats, which are very useful to them, as they are in the boats night and day, and in all weathers. But we will at once go down into the cabin, where we shall find the lieutenant who commands her, a master's mate, and a midshipman. They have each their tumbler before them, and are drinking gin-toddy, hot, with sugar—capital gin, too, 'bove proof; it is from that small anker, standing under the table. It was one that they forgot to return to the custom-house when they made their last seizure. We must introduce them.
The elderly personage, with grizzly hair and whiskers, a round pale face, and a somewhat red nose (being too much in the wind will make the nose red, and this old officer is very often "in the wind," of course, from the very nature of his profession), is a Lieutenant Appleboy. He has served in every class of vessel in the service, and done the duty of first lieutenant for twenty years; he is now on promotion—that is to say, after he has taken a certain number of tubs of gin, he will be rewarded with his rank as commander. It is a pity that what he takes inside of him does not count, for he takes it morning, noon, and night. —He is just filling his fourteenth glass: he always keeps a regular account, as he never exceeds his limited number, which is seventeen; then he is exactly down to his bearings.
The master's mate's name is Tomkins; he has served his six years three times over, and has now outgrown his ambition; which is fortunate for him, as his chances of promotion are small. He prefers a small vessel to a large one, because he is not obliged to be so particular in his dress —and looks for his lieutenancy whenever there shall be another charity promotion. He is fond of soft bread, for his teeth are all absent without leave; he prefers porter to any other liquor, but he can drink his glass of grog, whether it be based upon rum, brandy, or the liquor now before him.
Mr Smith is the name of that young gentleman, whose jacket is so out at the elbows; he has been intending to mend it these last two months, but is too lazy to go to his chest for another. He has been turned out of half the ships in the service for laziness; but he was born so—and therefore it is not his fault.—A revenue-cutter suits him, she is half her time hove to; and he has no objection to boat-service, as he sits down always in the stern-sheets, which is not fatiguing. Creeping for tubs is his delight, as he gets over so little ground. He is fond of grog, but there is some trouble in carrying the tumbler so often to his mouth; so he looks at it, and lets it stand. He says little, because he is too lazy to speak. He has served more thaneight years;but as for passing—it has never come into his head. Such are the three persons who are now sitting in the cabin of the revenue-cutter, drinking hot gin-toddy.
"Let me see, it was, I think, in ninety-three or ninety-four. Before you were in the service, Tomkins.—"
"Maybe, sir; it's so long ago since I entered, that I can't recollect dates,—but this I know, that my aunt died three days before."
"Then the question is, when did your aunt die?"
"Oh! she died about a year after my uncle."
"And when did your uncle die?"
"I'll be hanged if I know!"
"Then, d'ye see, you've no departure to work from. However, I think you cannot have been in the service at that time. We were not quite so particular about uniform as we are now."
"Then I think the service was all the better for it. Now-a-days, in your crack ships, a mate has to go down in the hold or spirit-room, and after whipping up fifty empty casks, and breaking out twenty full ones, he is expected to come on quarter-deck as clean as if he was just come out of a band-box."
"Well, there's plenty of water alongside, as far as the outward man goes, and iron dust is soon brushed off. However, as you say, perhaps a little too much is expected; at least, in five of the ships in which I was first-lieutenant, the captain was always hauling me over the coals about the midshipmen not dressing properly, as if I was their dry-nurse. I wonder what Captain Prigg would have said, if he had seen such a turn-out as you, Mr Smith, on his quarter-deck."
"I should have had one turn-out more," drawled Smith.
"With your out-at-elbows jacket, there, heh!" continued Mr Appleboy.
Smith turned up his elbows, looked at one and then at the other: after so fatiguing an operation, he was silent.
"Well, where was I? Oh! it was about ninety-three or ninety-four, as I said, that it happened—Tomkins, fill your glass, and hand me the sugar —how do I get on? This is No. 15," said Appleboy, counting some white lines on the table by him; and taking up a piece of chalk, he marked one more line on his tally. "I don't think this is so good a tub as the last, Tomkins, there's a twang about it—a want of juniper—however, I hope we shall have better luck this time. Of course, you know we sail to-morrow?"
"I presume so, by the leg of mutton coming on board."
"True—true—I'm regular—as clock-work.—After being twenty years a first-lieutenant, one gets a little method—I like regularity. Now the admiral has never omitted asking me to dinner once, every time I have come into harbour, except this time—I was so certain of it, that I never expected to sail; and I have but two shirts clean in consequence."
"That's odd, isn't it? and the more so, because he has had such great people down here, and has been giving large parties every day."
"And yet I made three seizures, besides sweeping up those thirty-seven tubs."
"I swept them up," observed Smith.
"That's all the same thing,younker.—When you've been a little longer in the service, you'll find out that the commanding officer has the merit of all that is done—but you'regreenyet. Let me see, where was I? Oh!—It was about ninety-three or ninety-four, as I said. At that time I was in the Channel fleet—Tomkins, I'll trouble you for the hot water; this water's cold.—Mr Smith, do me the favour to ring the bell. —Jem, some more hot water."
"Please, sir," said Jem, who was barefooted as well as bare-headed, touching the lock of hair on his forehead, "the cook has capsized the kettle—but he has put more on."
"Capsized the kettle! Ha!—very well—we'll talk about that to-morrow.Mr Tomkins, do me the favour to put him in the report, I may forget it.And pray, sir, how long is it since he has put more on?"
"Just this moment, sir, as I came aft."
"Very well, we'll see to that to-morrow:—You bring the kettle aft as soon as it is ready. I say, Mr Jem, is that fellow sober?"
"Yees, sir, he be sober as you be."
"It's quite astonishing what a propensity the common sailors have to liquor. Forty odd years have I been in the service, and I've never found any difference: I only wish I had a guinea for every time that I have given a fellow seven-water grog during my servitude as first-lieutenant, I wouldn't call the king my cousin. Well, if there's no hot water, we must take lukewarm—it won't do to heave to. By the Lord Harry! who would have thought it?—I'm at number sixteen! Let me count—yes!— surely I must have made a mistake. A fact, by Heaven!" continued Mr Appleboy, throwing the chalk down on the table. "Only one more glass, after this—that is, if I have counted right—I may have seen double."
"Yes," drawled Smith.
"Well, never mind—let's go on with my story.—It was either in the year ninety-three or ninety-four, that I was in the Channel fleet—we were then abreast of Torbay—"
"Here be the hot water, sir," cried Jem, putting the kettle down on the deck.
"Very well, boy—by-the-bye, has the jar of butter come on board?"
"Yes, but it broke all down the middle; I tied him up with a ropeyarn."
"Who broke it, sir?"
"Coxswain says as how he didn't."
"But who did, sir?"
"Coxswain handed it up to Bill Jones, and he says as how he didn't."
"But who did, sir?"
"Bill Jones gave it to me, and I'm sure as how I didn't."
"Then who did, sir, I ask you?"
"I think it be Bill Jones, sir, 'cause he's fond of butter, I know, and there be very little left in the jar."
"Verywell, we'll see to that to-morrow morning. Mr Tomkins, you'll oblige me by putting the butter-jar down in the report, in case it should slip my memory. Bill Jones, indeed, looks as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth—never mind. Well, it was, as I said before—it was in the year ninety-three or ninety-four, when I was in the Channel fleet; we were then off Torbay, and had just: taken two reefs in the top-sails. Stop, before I go on with my story, I'll take my last glass—I think it's the last: let me count—yes, by heavens I make out sixteen, well told. Never mind, it shall be a stiff one. Boy, bring the kettle, and mind you don't pour the hot water into my shoes, as you did the other night. There, that will do. Now, Tomkins, fill up yours; and you, Mr Smith: let us all start fair, and then you shall have my story—and a very curious one it is, I can tell you; I wouldn't have believed it myself if I hadn't seen it. Hilloa! what's this? confound it! what's the matter with the toddy? Heh, Mr Tomkins?"
Mr Tomkins tasted, but, like the lieutenant, he had made it very stiff; and, as he had also taken largely before, he was, like him, not quite so clear in his discrimination: "It has a queertwang, sir: Smith, what is it?"
Smith took up his glass, tasted the contents.
"Salt water"drawled the midshipman.
"Salt water! so it is, by heavens!" cried Mr Appleboy.
"Salt as Lot's wife!—by all that's infamous!" cried the master's mate.
"Salt water, sir!" cried Jem in a fright, expecting asalteel for supper.
"Yes, sir," replied Mr Appleboy, tossing the contents of the tumbler in the boy's face, "salt water. Very well, sir,—very well!"
"It warn't me, sir," replied the boy, making up a piteous look.
"No, sir, but you said the cook was sober."
"He was not soverymuch disguised, sir," replied Jem.
"Oh! very well—never mind. Mr Tomkins, in case I should forget it, do me the favour to put the kettle of salt water down in the report. The scoundrel! I'm very sorry, gentlemen, but there's no means of having any more gin-toddy,—but never mind, we'll see to this to-morrow. Two can play at this; and if I don't salt-water their grog, and make them drink it, too, I have been twenty years a first-lieutenant for nothing—that's all. Good night, gentlemen; and," continued the lieutenant, in a severe tone, "you'll keep a sharp look-out, Mr Smith—do you hear, sir?"
"Yes," drawled Smith, "but it's not my watch; it was my first watch, and, just now, it struck one bell."
"You'll keep the middle watch, then, Mr Smith," said Mr Appleboy, who was not a little put out; "and, Mr Tomkins, let me know as soon as it's daylight. Boy, get my bed made. Salt water, by all that's blue! However, we'll see to that to-morrow morning."
Mr Appleboy then turned in; so did Mr Tomkins; and so did Mr Smith, who had no idea of keeping the middle watch because the cook was drunk and had filled up the kettle with salt water. As for what happened in ninety-three or ninety-four, I really would inform the reader if I knew, but I am afraid that that most curious story is never to be handed down to posterity.
The next morning, Mr Tomkins, as usual, forgot to report the cook, the jar of butter, and the kettle of salt water; and Mr Appleboy's wrath had long been appeased before he remembered them. At daylight the lieutenant came on deck, having only slept away half of the sixteen, and a taste of the seventeenth salt-water glass of gin-toddy. He rubbed his grey eyes, that he might peer through the grey of the morning; the fresh breeze blew about his grizzly locks, and cooled his rubicund nose. The revenue-cutter, whose name was theActive, cast off from the buoy; and, with a fresh breeze, steered her course for the Needles' passage.