Chapter Thirty Three.Symptoms of sickness, not of the sea, but of the land beyond it—Our M.D. wishes to write DIO, and prepares accordingly—Ralph is about to reap his first marine laurels on the rocks of Cove.I do not get on with this life at all. I have not yet reached the Cove of Cork. Clap on more sail. It is bitterly cold, however, and here we are now safely moored in one of the petals of the “first flower of the sea.”In making this short passage, Captain Reud was very affable and communicative. He could talk of nothing but the beautiful coast of Leghorn; the superb bay of Naples; pleasant trips to Rome; visits to Tripoli; and other interesting parts on the African coast; and, on the voluptuous city of Palermo, with its amiable ladies and incessant festivities—he was quite as eloquent as could reasonably be expected from a smart post-captain of four-and-twenty.We were all in a fool’s paradise. For myself; I was enraptured. I was continually making extracts from Horace, Virgil, and other school-books, that I still carried with me, which referred, in the least, to those places that we were at all likely to see. But visions of this land of promise, of this sea, flowing with gentle waves and rich prizes, were soon dispersed before a sad reality, that, without the aid of the biting weather, now made most of the officers and men look blue, so soon as our anchors had nipped the ground of the Green Island. We found ourselves in the middle of a convoy of more than two hundred vessels of all descriptions, that the experienced immediately knew to be West Indiamen.The sarcastic glee with which Captain Reud rubbed his skinny, yellow hands, when he ordered additional sentries, and a boat to row guard round the ship from sunset to sunrise, weather permitting, to prevent desertion, gave me a strong impression of the malignity of his disposition. Certainly, the officers, from the first lieutenant downwards, looked, when under the influence of the first surprise, about as sage as we may conceive did those seven wise men of Gotham, who put to sea in a bowl. Some of them had even exchanged into the ship, for certain unlawful considerations, because she was so fine a frigate, and the captain possessed so much interest, being a very near and dear relation of the then treasurer of the navy. With this interest they thought, of course, that he would have the selection of his own station. And so he had. They either did not know, or had forgotten, that Captain Reud was a West Indian creole, and that he had large patrimonial estates in Antigua.“Not loud but deep,” were the curses in the gun-room, but both “loud and deep” were those in the midshipman’s berth, for the denizens thereof were never proverbial for the niceties of their expressions, when the apalling certainty broke on the comminators, of three years’ roasting in the West Indies, with accompaniments of misgivings about Yellow Jack, and the palisades, merely because the captain wished to go and see why the niggers did not make quite so much sugar and rum as they used to do. But, after all, we had a sage ship’s company, officers included, for there was scarcely a man in the ship, who, after our destination was ascertained, did not say, “Well, I thought as much;” and they derived much consolation from the consciousness of their foresight.The knowledge of our station had a most decided effect upon two of our officers, the master and surgeon; the former of whom, a weather-beaten, old north-countryman, who had been all his life knocking about the north sea, and our channels at home, immediately gave himself up for lost. He made his will, and took a decidedly serious turn.But there was another person, who viewed the West India station not religiously like our master, or joyously like our captain, or grumblingly like the marine officer, or despitefully like all the lieutenants, or detestedly like my messmates, or indifferently like myself. He took the matter into consideration discreetly, and so, in order to enjoy a long life, he incontinently fell sick unto death. Of course he knew, more than any man on board, how ill he was, for he was the doctor himself. He was not merely a naval surgeon, but a regular M.D., and with an English diploma. He could appreciate, as much as any man, the value of life; and hard indeed did he struggle to preserve the means of prolonging it. He was a short, round, and very corpulent person, with a monstrously large and pleasantly-looking face, with a very high colour—a colour not the flush of intemperance, but the glow of genuine health. This vast physiognomy was dug all over with holes; not merely pock-marks, but pock-pits. Indeed, his countenance put you in mind of a vast tract of gravelly soil on a sunny day, dug over with holes; it was so red, so cavernous, and withal, so bright. I need not mention that he was abon vivant, a most joyous, yet a most discreet one. Even on board of ship he contrived to make his breakfasts dinners, his dinners feasts, and his suppers, though light delicacies. He was no mean proficient in the culinary art, and as refined a gourmand as the dear departed Dr Kitchener—a man, to whose honour I have a great mind to devote an episode, and would do so, were not my poor shipmate, Dr Thompson, just now waiting for me to relieve him from his illness.No sooner did our clever medical attendant understand his destination, than he sent away his plate untouched at dinner—refused his wine—talked movingly of broken constitutions, a predisposition to anasarea, and the deceitful and dangerous appearances of florid health. At supper, he pronounced himself a lost man, held out his brawny fist to whomsoever would choose to feel his pulse, and sent for the first assistant-surgeon to make him up a tremendous quantity of prescriptions, to be exhibited the ensuing night—to whatever fish might be so unfortunate as to be swimming alongside. After this display, and whilst he was languidly sipping a tumbler of barley-water, the Honourable Mr B, our junior luff, was loud in his complaints of being, what he called, fairly entrapped; when Dr Thompson, in a feeble and tremulous voice, read him a long lecture on patriotism, obedience to the dictates of duty, and self-devotion, finishing thus:— “By Heaven, show me the man that flinches from his duty, and I’ll show you whatever may be his outward bearing, a craven at heart! I am very ill—I feel that I am fast sinking into a premature grave—but what of that. I should be but too happy if I could make my dying struggles subservient to my country. My body, Mr Farmer—Mr Wade, this poor temple of mine contains an insidious enemy—a strange, a dreadful, and a wasting disease. It is necessary for the sake of medical science, for my country’s good, for the health of the world at large, that my death, which will speedily happen, should take place in England, in order that after dissolution I may be dissected by the first operators, viewed by the most intelligent of the faculty, and thus another light be placed on the present dark paths of curative knowledge. My symptoms are momentarily growing worse. Gentlemen, messmates, friends, I must leave you for the night, and too soon, I fear, for ever; but never shrink your duty. If they be the last words that I shall utter to you—humble though I be—I may venture to hold myself up to you as a pattern of self-devotion. God bless you all—good night—and never shirk your duty.”Of course, the company to whom this was addressed, were infinitely amused at this display, and the third-lieutenant observed mournfully, “Now there’s no chance for me. The fat rogue is going to invalid himself. I suppose that I need not trouble my liver to be diseased just now, for the hypocrite won’t allow another man in the ship to be sick but himself.”The gentlemen guessed rightly. All the next day Dr Thompson kept his cot, and was duly reported to the captain as dangerously ill. Now, our first-lieutenant was a noble, frank, yet sensible and shrewd fellow, and the captain was as mischief-loving, wicked little devil, as ever grinned over a spiteful frolic. They held a consultation upon the case, and soon came to a more decided opinion on it, than the gentlemen of the faculty generally do on such occasions. Now, whilst the doctor is plotting to prove himself desperately and almost hopelessly sick, and the captain and Mr Farmer, to make him suddenly well, in spite of himself I shall take the opportunity of displaying my own heroic deeds, when placed in the first independent command ever conferred upon me. Jason, with his Argonauts, went to bear away the Golden Fleece; Columbus, and his heroes, to give a world to the sovereign of Spain; and I, with two little boys, pushed out of the Cove perilously to procure some sand in the dingy. Nothing elevates a biography like appropriate comparison. But I doubt whether either Jason or Columbus felt a more enthusiastic glow pervade their frames when each saw himself fairly under sail for unknown seas than I did when I seized the tiller of the dinghy, which was, by the bye, a stick not at all bigger than that which I had, not many months before, used in trundling my hoop.
I do not get on with this life at all. I have not yet reached the Cove of Cork. Clap on more sail. It is bitterly cold, however, and here we are now safely moored in one of the petals of the “first flower of the sea.”
In making this short passage, Captain Reud was very affable and communicative. He could talk of nothing but the beautiful coast of Leghorn; the superb bay of Naples; pleasant trips to Rome; visits to Tripoli; and other interesting parts on the African coast; and, on the voluptuous city of Palermo, with its amiable ladies and incessant festivities—he was quite as eloquent as could reasonably be expected from a smart post-captain of four-and-twenty.
We were all in a fool’s paradise. For myself; I was enraptured. I was continually making extracts from Horace, Virgil, and other school-books, that I still carried with me, which referred, in the least, to those places that we were at all likely to see. But visions of this land of promise, of this sea, flowing with gentle waves and rich prizes, were soon dispersed before a sad reality, that, without the aid of the biting weather, now made most of the officers and men look blue, so soon as our anchors had nipped the ground of the Green Island. We found ourselves in the middle of a convoy of more than two hundred vessels of all descriptions, that the experienced immediately knew to be West Indiamen.
The sarcastic glee with which Captain Reud rubbed his skinny, yellow hands, when he ordered additional sentries, and a boat to row guard round the ship from sunset to sunrise, weather permitting, to prevent desertion, gave me a strong impression of the malignity of his disposition. Certainly, the officers, from the first lieutenant downwards, looked, when under the influence of the first surprise, about as sage as we may conceive did those seven wise men of Gotham, who put to sea in a bowl. Some of them had even exchanged into the ship, for certain unlawful considerations, because she was so fine a frigate, and the captain possessed so much interest, being a very near and dear relation of the then treasurer of the navy. With this interest they thought, of course, that he would have the selection of his own station. And so he had. They either did not know, or had forgotten, that Captain Reud was a West Indian creole, and that he had large patrimonial estates in Antigua.
“Not loud but deep,” were the curses in the gun-room, but both “loud and deep” were those in the midshipman’s berth, for the denizens thereof were never proverbial for the niceties of their expressions, when the apalling certainty broke on the comminators, of three years’ roasting in the West Indies, with accompaniments of misgivings about Yellow Jack, and the palisades, merely because the captain wished to go and see why the niggers did not make quite so much sugar and rum as they used to do. But, after all, we had a sage ship’s company, officers included, for there was scarcely a man in the ship, who, after our destination was ascertained, did not say, “Well, I thought as much;” and they derived much consolation from the consciousness of their foresight.
The knowledge of our station had a most decided effect upon two of our officers, the master and surgeon; the former of whom, a weather-beaten, old north-countryman, who had been all his life knocking about the north sea, and our channels at home, immediately gave himself up for lost. He made his will, and took a decidedly serious turn.
But there was another person, who viewed the West India station not religiously like our master, or joyously like our captain, or grumblingly like the marine officer, or despitefully like all the lieutenants, or detestedly like my messmates, or indifferently like myself. He took the matter into consideration discreetly, and so, in order to enjoy a long life, he incontinently fell sick unto death. Of course he knew, more than any man on board, how ill he was, for he was the doctor himself. He was not merely a naval surgeon, but a regular M.D., and with an English diploma. He could appreciate, as much as any man, the value of life; and hard indeed did he struggle to preserve the means of prolonging it. He was a short, round, and very corpulent person, with a monstrously large and pleasantly-looking face, with a very high colour—a colour not the flush of intemperance, but the glow of genuine health. This vast physiognomy was dug all over with holes; not merely pock-marks, but pock-pits. Indeed, his countenance put you in mind of a vast tract of gravelly soil on a sunny day, dug over with holes; it was so red, so cavernous, and withal, so bright. I need not mention that he was abon vivant, a most joyous, yet a most discreet one. Even on board of ship he contrived to make his breakfasts dinners, his dinners feasts, and his suppers, though light delicacies. He was no mean proficient in the culinary art, and as refined a gourmand as the dear departed Dr Kitchener—a man, to whose honour I have a great mind to devote an episode, and would do so, were not my poor shipmate, Dr Thompson, just now waiting for me to relieve him from his illness.
No sooner did our clever medical attendant understand his destination, than he sent away his plate untouched at dinner—refused his wine—talked movingly of broken constitutions, a predisposition to anasarea, and the deceitful and dangerous appearances of florid health. At supper, he pronounced himself a lost man, held out his brawny fist to whomsoever would choose to feel his pulse, and sent for the first assistant-surgeon to make him up a tremendous quantity of prescriptions, to be exhibited the ensuing night—to whatever fish might be so unfortunate as to be swimming alongside. After this display, and whilst he was languidly sipping a tumbler of barley-water, the Honourable Mr B, our junior luff, was loud in his complaints of being, what he called, fairly entrapped; when Dr Thompson, in a feeble and tremulous voice, read him a long lecture on patriotism, obedience to the dictates of duty, and self-devotion, finishing thus:— “By Heaven, show me the man that flinches from his duty, and I’ll show you whatever may be his outward bearing, a craven at heart! I am very ill—I feel that I am fast sinking into a premature grave—but what of that. I should be but too happy if I could make my dying struggles subservient to my country. My body, Mr Farmer—Mr Wade, this poor temple of mine contains an insidious enemy—a strange, a dreadful, and a wasting disease. It is necessary for the sake of medical science, for my country’s good, for the health of the world at large, that my death, which will speedily happen, should take place in England, in order that after dissolution I may be dissected by the first operators, viewed by the most intelligent of the faculty, and thus another light be placed on the present dark paths of curative knowledge. My symptoms are momentarily growing worse. Gentlemen, messmates, friends, I must leave you for the night, and too soon, I fear, for ever; but never shrink your duty. If they be the last words that I shall utter to you—humble though I be—I may venture to hold myself up to you as a pattern of self-devotion. God bless you all—good night—and never shirk your duty.”
Of course, the company to whom this was addressed, were infinitely amused at this display, and the third-lieutenant observed mournfully, “Now there’s no chance for me. The fat rogue is going to invalid himself. I suppose that I need not trouble my liver to be diseased just now, for the hypocrite won’t allow another man in the ship to be sick but himself.”
The gentlemen guessed rightly. All the next day Dr Thompson kept his cot, and was duly reported to the captain as dangerously ill. Now, our first-lieutenant was a noble, frank, yet sensible and shrewd fellow, and the captain was as mischief-loving, wicked little devil, as ever grinned over a spiteful frolic. They held a consultation upon the case, and soon came to a more decided opinion on it, than the gentlemen of the faculty generally do on such occasions. Now, whilst the doctor is plotting to prove himself desperately and almost hopelessly sick, and the captain and Mr Farmer, to make him suddenly well, in spite of himself I shall take the opportunity of displaying my own heroic deeds, when placed in the first independent command ever conferred upon me. Jason, with his Argonauts, went to bear away the Golden Fleece; Columbus, and his heroes, to give a world to the sovereign of Spain; and I, with two little boys, pushed out of the Cove perilously to procure some sand in the dingy. Nothing elevates a biography like appropriate comparison. But I doubt whether either Jason or Columbus felt a more enthusiastic glow pervade their frames when each saw himself fairly under sail for unknown seas than I did when I seized the tiller of the dinghy, which was, by the bye, a stick not at all bigger than that which I had, not many months before, used in trundling my hoop.
Chapter Thirty Four.A little boat with a large cargo—Worse than the drift of a dull argument, Ralph finds drifting across the Atlantic—He meets with land at length, and a real Irish welcome—Potatoes and poteen, and much more fur than furniture.But this little boat, as it so often bore Caesar and his fortunes, and our surgeon and his fat, deserves and shall have a more than passing notice. It was perhaps one of the smallest crafts that ever braved the seas. Such a floating miniature you may have conceived Gulliver to be placed in, when he was sighed across the tub of water by his Brobdignag princess. Woefully and timorously, many’s the time and oft did the obese doctor eye it from the gangway; when asking for a boat, the first-lieutenant, smiling benignantly, would reply, “Doctor, take the dinghy.” It was all that the dinghy could do, to take the doctor. Then the care with which he gently deposited himself precisely in the centre of the very small stern-sheets, would have afforded a fine moral lesson to those who pretend to watch over the safety of states. As the little craft, laden with this immense pharmacopoeian depositary, hobbled over the seas, it seemed almost to progress upright, and “walked the waters like a thing of life;” for it had a shrewd likeness to a young monkey learning to go upright, with its two long arms steadying its uncertain gait, the oars making all this resemblance. Indeed, it was so diminutive, that it often kept up the two boys that belonged to it from the fresh as well as the salt water, they clapping it over their heads, by way of an umbrella, whenever the clouds poured down a libation too liberal. To those curious in philology I convey the information, that in the worddinghy, the g was pronounced hard. This explanation is also necessary to do justice to the pigmy floater, as it was always painted in the gayest colours possible. It was quite a pet of the first-lieutenant’s. Indeed, he loved it so much, that he took care never to oppress it with his own weight.The Cove of Cork is a fine harbour, entered by the means of a somewhat narrow straight. I have forgotten the names of all the headlands and points, and I am so sick of Irish affairs that I do not choose to go into the next room and get the map to refer to, for on it there is scarcely a spot that could meet my eye, that would not give rise to disagreeable associations. So I prefer writing from memory, magic memory, that gives me now the picture of five-and-twenty years ago, all green, and fresh, and beautiful.On entering the Cove, there were on the left hand of the strait fortifications and military barracks. Beyond these, to the seaward, and just on the elbow of the land that formed the entrance to the strait, our first-lieutenant discovered from the taffrail of the frigate, a white patch of sand. The rest of the shore was rocky, iron-bound, and unapproachable from the sea. Mr Farmer took me aft, pointed out to me the just visible spot, told me to fetch off as much sand as the dinghy could bear, and return with all expedition. Proud of the commission, about four p.m., the tide running out furiously, I ordered thedinghiesto be piped away, and walking down the side with due dignity, with a bucket and a couple of spades, we pushed off, and soon reached the spot. The boat was loaded, but in the meantime the tide had left, and, light and small as she was, three little boys could not launch her till almost all the sand had been returned to its native soil. All this occupied much time. It was nearly dusk when we got her afloat, and the wind had got up strongly from off the land. It came on to rain, and we had not got far from the shore before the tide swept us clean out into the Atlantic. We were shortly in a situation sufficiently perilous for the heroic. There we were, three lads, whose united years would not have made up those of a middle-aged man, in a very little boat, in a very high sea, with a strong gale that would have been very favourable for us, if we had wished to steer for New York. As we could not make head at all against the combined strength of an adverse wind, tide, and sea, we left off pulling, and threw all the sand out of the boat. We knew the tide would turn, we hoped that the sea might go down, and trusted that the wind would change. Before it was quite dark we had lost sight of the land, and I began to feel a little uncomfortable, as my boat’s crew from stem to stern (no great distance) assured me that we should certainly be swamped. In this miserable position of our affairs, and when we should have found ourselves very cold, if we had not been so hungry, and very hungry if we had not been so cold, an Hibernian mercantile vessel passed us, laden with timber and fruit, viz. potatoes and birch-brooms, and they very kindly and opportunely threw us a tow-rope. This drogher, that was a large, half-decked, cutter-rigged vessel, made great way through the water, and, as we were dragged after her, we were nearly drowned by the sea splashing over us, and, had it not been for our sand-bucket, it is probable that we should have filled. In the state of the sea, to get on board the drogher from the dinghy, was an operation too dangerous to be attempted.But before this assistance came, what were my feelings? No situation could be more disconsolate, and, apparently, more hopeless. Does not the reader suppose that there was a continual fishing through my bosom of agonised feelings? Can he not understand that visions of my lately-forsaken green play-ground came over the black and massive waves, and seemed to settle on them as in mockery? But were I to dilate upon these horrors, would he not weary of them? Had I been the son of a king thus situated, or even the acknowledged offspring of a duke, there might have been sympathy. But the newly-emancipated schoolboy, drowned with two lads just drafted from the Marine Society, in a small boat off the Irish coast, may be thought a melancholy occurrence, but involving nothing of particular interest. I see my error: if I wish to create an effect, I must first prove that I am the son of a duke or a king. I have begun at the wrong end.However, let the reader sneer as he will at my predicament, there was something sublime in the scene around me. The smallness of the craft magnified the greatness of the waves. I literally enjoyed the interesting situation which naval writers, who are not nautical, of “seas running mountains high,” so rejoice to describe. One wave on either hand bounded my horizon. They were absolutely mountain waves to me; and when our little walnut-shell got on the top of one, it is no great stretch of metaphor to say, that we appeared ascending to the clouds. We could not look down upon one wave, until we were fairly on the back of another. Now, in a vessel of tolerable size, let the sea rage at its worst, from the ship’s decks you always look down upon it, excepting now and then, when some short-lived giant will poke up its overgrown head. But I must remember that I am in tow of the potato craft.Though she lay well up for the harbour’s mouth, she could not fetch it, so she tacked and tacked again, until nearly ten o’clock, at which time we in the dinghy were half frozen, and almost wholly drowned. The moon was now up, though partially obscured by flying rack, and in making a land board, the honest Pat, in the command of the sloop, shortened the tow-rope, and hailed us, telling us when we were well abreast of a little sandy bight, to cast off, pull in, and haul up our boat above high-water mark. We took his advice, and, without much difficulty, found ourselves once more on terra firma.I cannot help, in this place, making the reflection of the singular events that the erratic life of a sailor produces. Here were evidently three lives saved, among which was that of the future paragon of reefers, and neither the saved nor the saviours knew even the names, or saw distinctly the faces of each other. How many good and brave actions we sailors do, and the careless world knows nothing about them. The sailor’s life is a series of common-place heroisms.Well, here we are, landed on the coast of Ireland, but in what part we knew not, and with every prospect of passing the night under the grandest, but, in winter, the most uncomfortable roof in the world. The two lads begged for leave to go up and look for a house; but, as I had made up my mind that if a loss took place, we should be all lost together, I would not run the risk oflosingmy boat’s crew, andfindingmyself—alone. I refused my consent, telling them that it was my duty to stay by my boat, and theirs to stay by me. Now this was tolerably firm, considering the ducking that I had enjoyed, and the hunger, cold, and weariness that I was then enjoying—enjoying? yes, enjoying. Surely I have as much right to enjoy them if I like as the ladies and gentlemen of this metropolis have to enjoy bad health.But this epicene state of enjoyment was not long to last. A fresh-coloured native, with a prodigious breadth of face, only to be surpassed by his prodigious breadth of shoulders, approached, and addressed us in a brogue so strong, that it would, like the boatswain’s grog, have floated a marlin-spike, and in a stuttering so thick, that a horn spoon would have stood upright in it. The consequence was, that though fellow-subjects, we could not understand each other. So he went and brought down with him a brawny brother, who spoke “Inglis illigantly anyhow.” Well, the proverbial hospitality of the Irish suffered no injury in the persons of my Irish friends. A pressing invitation to their dwelling and to their hospitality was urged upon us in terms, and with looks, that I felt were the genuine offspring of kindness and generosity of soul. But I still demurred to leave my boat. When they understood the full force of my objection, my frieze-coated friend, who spoke the “illigant Inglis,” explained.“O, by Jasus, and ain’t she welcome intirely? Come along ye little undersized spalpeen with your officer, won’t you?”And, before I could well understand what they were about, the two “jontlemen” had taken up his Majesty’s vessel under my command, had turned it bottom up with several shakes, to clear it of the water and sand, and with as little difficulty as a farmer’s boy would have turned upside down a thrush’s cage, in order to cleanse it. After this operation had been performed, they righted it, and one laying hold of the bow, and the other the stern, they swung it between them, as two washerwomen might a basket of dirty clothes. I must confess that I was a great deal mortified at seeing my command treated thus slightingly, which mortification was not a little increased by an overture that they kindly made to me, saying, that if I were at all tired, they would, with all the pleasure in the world, carry me in it. I preferred walking.Officer, boat’s crew, guides, boats and oars, proceeded in this manner for more than half a mile up into the country. At length, by the moonlight, I discovered a row of earthy mounds, that I positively, at first, thought was a parcel of heaps such as I had seen in England, under which potatoes are buried for the winter.I was undeceived, by being welcomed to the town of some place, dreadful in “as,” and “ghas,” and with a name so difficult to utter, that I could not pronounce it when I attempted, and which, if I had ever been so fortunate to retain, I should, for my own comfort, have made haste to forget.I hope that the “finest pisintry in the world” are better located now than they were a quarter of a century ago, for they are, or were, a fine peasantry, as far as physical organisation can make them, and deserve at least to be housed like human beings; but what I saw, when on that night I entered the mud edifice of my conductors, made me start with astonishment. In the first place, the walls were mud all through, and as rough on the inside as the out. There was actually no furniture in it of any description; and the only implement I saw, was a large globular iron pot, that stood upon spikes, like a carpenter’s pitch-kettle, which pot, at the moment of my entrance, was full of hot, recently boiled, unskinned, fine mealy praties. Round this there might have been sitting some twelve or fourteen persons of both sexes, and various ages, none above five-and-twenty. But it must be remembered, that the pot was upon the earth, and the earth was the floor, and the circle was squatted round it. At the fire-place, each on a three-legged stool, sat an elderly man and woman. These stools the fastidious may call furniture if they please; but were any of my readers placed upon one of them, so rough and dirty were they, that he or she must have been very naughty, did not the stool of repentance prove a more pleasant resting-place.Among the squatted circle there were a bandy-legged drummer, and a blotched-faced fifer, from the adjacent barracks, both in their regimentals. They rose, and capped to my uniform. We were welcomed with shouts of congratulations. My boat was brought in, and placed bottom-up along one side of the hovel, and immediately the keel was occupied by a legion of poultry, and half a score of pigs, little and big, were at the same time to be seen dubbing their snouts under the gunnel, on voyages of alimentary discovery. I was immediately pulled down between two really handsome lasses in the circle; and, with something like savage hospitality, had my cheeks stuffed with the burning potatoes.Never was there a more hilarious meeting. I and my Tom Thumb of a boat, and my minikin crew, I could well understand, though my hosts spoke in their mother tongue, were the subjects of their incessant and uncontrollable bursts of laughter. But with all this, they were by no means rude, and showed me that sort of respect that servants do to the petted child of their master: that is to say, they were inclined to be very patronising, and very careful of me, in spite of myself; and to humour me greatly. My two boys, whom I have so often dignified with the imposing title of my boat’s crew, though treated with less or no respect at all, were welcomed in a manner equally kind.
But this little boat, as it so often bore Caesar and his fortunes, and our surgeon and his fat, deserves and shall have a more than passing notice. It was perhaps one of the smallest crafts that ever braved the seas. Such a floating miniature you may have conceived Gulliver to be placed in, when he was sighed across the tub of water by his Brobdignag princess. Woefully and timorously, many’s the time and oft did the obese doctor eye it from the gangway; when asking for a boat, the first-lieutenant, smiling benignantly, would reply, “Doctor, take the dinghy.” It was all that the dinghy could do, to take the doctor. Then the care with which he gently deposited himself precisely in the centre of the very small stern-sheets, would have afforded a fine moral lesson to those who pretend to watch over the safety of states. As the little craft, laden with this immense pharmacopoeian depositary, hobbled over the seas, it seemed almost to progress upright, and “walked the waters like a thing of life;” for it had a shrewd likeness to a young monkey learning to go upright, with its two long arms steadying its uncertain gait, the oars making all this resemblance. Indeed, it was so diminutive, that it often kept up the two boys that belonged to it from the fresh as well as the salt water, they clapping it over their heads, by way of an umbrella, whenever the clouds poured down a libation too liberal. To those curious in philology I convey the information, that in the worddinghy, the g was pronounced hard. This explanation is also necessary to do justice to the pigmy floater, as it was always painted in the gayest colours possible. It was quite a pet of the first-lieutenant’s. Indeed, he loved it so much, that he took care never to oppress it with his own weight.
The Cove of Cork is a fine harbour, entered by the means of a somewhat narrow straight. I have forgotten the names of all the headlands and points, and I am so sick of Irish affairs that I do not choose to go into the next room and get the map to refer to, for on it there is scarcely a spot that could meet my eye, that would not give rise to disagreeable associations. So I prefer writing from memory, magic memory, that gives me now the picture of five-and-twenty years ago, all green, and fresh, and beautiful.
On entering the Cove, there were on the left hand of the strait fortifications and military barracks. Beyond these, to the seaward, and just on the elbow of the land that formed the entrance to the strait, our first-lieutenant discovered from the taffrail of the frigate, a white patch of sand. The rest of the shore was rocky, iron-bound, and unapproachable from the sea. Mr Farmer took me aft, pointed out to me the just visible spot, told me to fetch off as much sand as the dinghy could bear, and return with all expedition. Proud of the commission, about four p.m., the tide running out furiously, I ordered thedinghiesto be piped away, and walking down the side with due dignity, with a bucket and a couple of spades, we pushed off, and soon reached the spot. The boat was loaded, but in the meantime the tide had left, and, light and small as she was, three little boys could not launch her till almost all the sand had been returned to its native soil. All this occupied much time. It was nearly dusk when we got her afloat, and the wind had got up strongly from off the land. It came on to rain, and we had not got far from the shore before the tide swept us clean out into the Atlantic. We were shortly in a situation sufficiently perilous for the heroic. There we were, three lads, whose united years would not have made up those of a middle-aged man, in a very little boat, in a very high sea, with a strong gale that would have been very favourable for us, if we had wished to steer for New York. As we could not make head at all against the combined strength of an adverse wind, tide, and sea, we left off pulling, and threw all the sand out of the boat. We knew the tide would turn, we hoped that the sea might go down, and trusted that the wind would change. Before it was quite dark we had lost sight of the land, and I began to feel a little uncomfortable, as my boat’s crew from stem to stern (no great distance) assured me that we should certainly be swamped. In this miserable position of our affairs, and when we should have found ourselves very cold, if we had not been so hungry, and very hungry if we had not been so cold, an Hibernian mercantile vessel passed us, laden with timber and fruit, viz. potatoes and birch-brooms, and they very kindly and opportunely threw us a tow-rope. This drogher, that was a large, half-decked, cutter-rigged vessel, made great way through the water, and, as we were dragged after her, we were nearly drowned by the sea splashing over us, and, had it not been for our sand-bucket, it is probable that we should have filled. In the state of the sea, to get on board the drogher from the dinghy, was an operation too dangerous to be attempted.
But before this assistance came, what were my feelings? No situation could be more disconsolate, and, apparently, more hopeless. Does not the reader suppose that there was a continual fishing through my bosom of agonised feelings? Can he not understand that visions of my lately-forsaken green play-ground came over the black and massive waves, and seemed to settle on them as in mockery? But were I to dilate upon these horrors, would he not weary of them? Had I been the son of a king thus situated, or even the acknowledged offspring of a duke, there might have been sympathy. But the newly-emancipated schoolboy, drowned with two lads just drafted from the Marine Society, in a small boat off the Irish coast, may be thought a melancholy occurrence, but involving nothing of particular interest. I see my error: if I wish to create an effect, I must first prove that I am the son of a duke or a king. I have begun at the wrong end.
However, let the reader sneer as he will at my predicament, there was something sublime in the scene around me. The smallness of the craft magnified the greatness of the waves. I literally enjoyed the interesting situation which naval writers, who are not nautical, of “seas running mountains high,” so rejoice to describe. One wave on either hand bounded my horizon. They were absolutely mountain waves to me; and when our little walnut-shell got on the top of one, it is no great stretch of metaphor to say, that we appeared ascending to the clouds. We could not look down upon one wave, until we were fairly on the back of another. Now, in a vessel of tolerable size, let the sea rage at its worst, from the ship’s decks you always look down upon it, excepting now and then, when some short-lived giant will poke up its overgrown head. But I must remember that I am in tow of the potato craft.
Though she lay well up for the harbour’s mouth, she could not fetch it, so she tacked and tacked again, until nearly ten o’clock, at which time we in the dinghy were half frozen, and almost wholly drowned. The moon was now up, though partially obscured by flying rack, and in making a land board, the honest Pat, in the command of the sloop, shortened the tow-rope, and hailed us, telling us when we were well abreast of a little sandy bight, to cast off, pull in, and haul up our boat above high-water mark. We took his advice, and, without much difficulty, found ourselves once more on terra firma.
I cannot help, in this place, making the reflection of the singular events that the erratic life of a sailor produces. Here were evidently three lives saved, among which was that of the future paragon of reefers, and neither the saved nor the saviours knew even the names, or saw distinctly the faces of each other. How many good and brave actions we sailors do, and the careless world knows nothing about them. The sailor’s life is a series of common-place heroisms.
Well, here we are, landed on the coast of Ireland, but in what part we knew not, and with every prospect of passing the night under the grandest, but, in winter, the most uncomfortable roof in the world. The two lads begged for leave to go up and look for a house; but, as I had made up my mind that if a loss took place, we should be all lost together, I would not run the risk oflosingmy boat’s crew, andfindingmyself—alone. I refused my consent, telling them that it was my duty to stay by my boat, and theirs to stay by me. Now this was tolerably firm, considering the ducking that I had enjoyed, and the hunger, cold, and weariness that I was then enjoying—enjoying? yes, enjoying. Surely I have as much right to enjoy them if I like as the ladies and gentlemen of this metropolis have to enjoy bad health.
But this epicene state of enjoyment was not long to last. A fresh-coloured native, with a prodigious breadth of face, only to be surpassed by his prodigious breadth of shoulders, approached, and addressed us in a brogue so strong, that it would, like the boatswain’s grog, have floated a marlin-spike, and in a stuttering so thick, that a horn spoon would have stood upright in it. The consequence was, that though fellow-subjects, we could not understand each other. So he went and brought down with him a brawny brother, who spoke “Inglis illigantly anyhow.” Well, the proverbial hospitality of the Irish suffered no injury in the persons of my Irish friends. A pressing invitation to their dwelling and to their hospitality was urged upon us in terms, and with looks, that I felt were the genuine offspring of kindness and generosity of soul. But I still demurred to leave my boat. When they understood the full force of my objection, my frieze-coated friend, who spoke the “illigant Inglis,” explained.
“O, by Jasus, and ain’t she welcome intirely? Come along ye little undersized spalpeen with your officer, won’t you?”
And, before I could well understand what they were about, the two “jontlemen” had taken up his Majesty’s vessel under my command, had turned it bottom up with several shakes, to clear it of the water and sand, and with as little difficulty as a farmer’s boy would have turned upside down a thrush’s cage, in order to cleanse it. After this operation had been performed, they righted it, and one laying hold of the bow, and the other the stern, they swung it between them, as two washerwomen might a basket of dirty clothes. I must confess that I was a great deal mortified at seeing my command treated thus slightingly, which mortification was not a little increased by an overture that they kindly made to me, saying, that if I were at all tired, they would, with all the pleasure in the world, carry me in it. I preferred walking.
Officer, boat’s crew, guides, boats and oars, proceeded in this manner for more than half a mile up into the country. At length, by the moonlight, I discovered a row of earthy mounds, that I positively, at first, thought was a parcel of heaps such as I had seen in England, under which potatoes are buried for the winter.
I was undeceived, by being welcomed to the town of some place, dreadful in “as,” and “ghas,” and with a name so difficult to utter, that I could not pronounce it when I attempted, and which, if I had ever been so fortunate to retain, I should, for my own comfort, have made haste to forget.
I hope that the “finest pisintry in the world” are better located now than they were a quarter of a century ago, for they are, or were, a fine peasantry, as far as physical organisation can make them, and deserve at least to be housed like human beings; but what I saw, when on that night I entered the mud edifice of my conductors, made me start with astonishment. In the first place, the walls were mud all through, and as rough on the inside as the out. There was actually no furniture in it of any description; and the only implement I saw, was a large globular iron pot, that stood upon spikes, like a carpenter’s pitch-kettle, which pot, at the moment of my entrance, was full of hot, recently boiled, unskinned, fine mealy praties. Round this there might have been sitting some twelve or fourteen persons of both sexes, and various ages, none above five-and-twenty. But it must be remembered, that the pot was upon the earth, and the earth was the floor, and the circle was squatted round it. At the fire-place, each on a three-legged stool, sat an elderly man and woman. These stools the fastidious may call furniture if they please; but were any of my readers placed upon one of them, so rough and dirty were they, that he or she must have been very naughty, did not the stool of repentance prove a more pleasant resting-place.
Among the squatted circle there were a bandy-legged drummer, and a blotched-faced fifer, from the adjacent barracks, both in their regimentals. They rose, and capped to my uniform. We were welcomed with shouts of congratulations. My boat was brought in, and placed bottom-up along one side of the hovel, and immediately the keel was occupied by a legion of poultry, and half a score of pigs, little and big, were at the same time to be seen dubbing their snouts under the gunnel, on voyages of alimentary discovery. I was immediately pulled down between two really handsome lasses in the circle; and, with something like savage hospitality, had my cheeks stuffed with the burning potatoes.
Never was there a more hilarious meeting. I and my Tom Thumb of a boat, and my minikin crew, I could well understand, though my hosts spoke in their mother tongue, were the subjects of their incessant and uncontrollable bursts of laughter. But with all this, they were by no means rude, and showed me that sort of respect that servants do to the petted child of their master: that is to say, they were inclined to be very patronising, and very careful of me, in spite of myself; and to humour me greatly. My two boys, whom I have so often dignified with the imposing title of my boat’s crew, though treated with less or no respect at all, were welcomed in a manner equally kind.
Chapter Thirty Five.Ralph figureth at a ball, excelleth, and afterwards sleepeth—He returneth on board, and hath both his toils and his sand undervalued, and thus discovereth the gratitude of first-lieutenants.Not yet having sufficiently Hibernised my taste to luxuriate on Raleigh’s root, plain, with salt, I begged them to procure me something more placable to an English appetite. I gave money to my hosts, and they procured me eggs and bacon. I might also have had a fowl, but I did not wish to devour guests to whom on my boat’s keel I had given such recent hospitality. They returned me my full change, and, though there was more than enough of what they cooked for me to satisfy myself and boys, they would not partake of the remains, until I assured them, that if they did not I would throw them away. At this intimation they disappeared in a twinkling.Then came the whiskey—the real dew. I never touched it. I have before stated, that for three years I abstained from all spirituous liquors. My lads had made no such resolution. The big iron pot was now, like an honest old sailor that had done his duty, kicked aside the corner; the drummer and fifer seating themselves on the keel of the inverted dinghy, and struck up a lilt, and:—“Off they went so gaily O!”More lads and lasses came in, and jigs and reels succeeded each other with such rapidity, that, notwithstanding the copious supplies of whiskey, the drummer’s arms failed him, and the fifer had almost blown himself into an atrophy. Did I dance? To be sure I did, and right merrily too. I had such pleasant, fair-haired, rosy, Hebe-like instructresses, ready to tear each other’s eyes out to get me for a partner. Then, they talked Irish so musically, and put the king’s English to death so charmingly that, notwithstanding the heat and smoke of the cabin was upon them, and the whiskey did more than heighten the colour on their lips, they were really enchanting, though stockingless creatures. It has been truly said, that in the social circle, the extremes, as to manners, almost meet. These ladies, I suppose, had gone so far beyond vulgarity, that they were now converging to the superior tone and frankdégagementof the upper classes. Positively it never struck me that I was in vulgar company. I then, of course, could have been but an indifferent judge. But I have thought of it often since, and must say, that in the degrading sense of the word, my company of that night was not vulgar. It was pastoral, and perhaps barbarous, but everything was natural, and everything free from pretension. I did not often again, though I have danced with spirits as unwearied, dance with a heart so light. During this festive evening I saw no indications of that pugnacity so inseparable with Irish hilarity, though there were assembled a dozen of as pretty “broths of boys,” as ever practised skull salutation at Donybrook fair.At length, about one in the morning, the whiskey had overpowered my boat’s crew, and the whisking myself. They made up a lair for me with abundant greatcoats in the corner of the room, and my eyes gradually closed in sleep, catching, till they were finally sealed up, every now and then, twinklings of bare legs and well-turned ankles, mingled with the clatter of heavy brogues, and the drone of a bagpipe that had now superseded the squeak of the fife, and the rattle of the drum.I certainly did dream, I suppose about an hour after I had fallen asleep, of the clattering of sticks, the squalling of women, and the cursing of men; and I felt an indistinct sensation, as if people were practising leaping over my body, and finally, as if some soft-rounded figure had caught me in her arms. I was so terribly oppressed with fatigue that I could not awake; and, as the last part of my dream gave me so sweet an idea of happiness and security, if I may use the expression, I shall say, as every novelist has a right to do once in his three volumes—“I was lapped in Elysium.”Everything was oblivion until I was awakened by one of my lads at eight in the morning, and I arose refreshed, though a little stiff. The hardened clay, which composed the floor, was neatly swept up, the pigs and the poultry were driven out, and a good fire was blazing under the chimney. Of all the party of the night before, there remained only the two fine young men who brought me and my boat up, the elderly couple, and two blooming girls, with the youngest of whom I had danced almost the whole of the previous evening. I observed on one of the young men a tremendous black eye, that certainly was not there the day before, and the other had his temples carefully bandaged, and both my boat-boys complained of being kicked and trampled on during the night, yet I am not so ungrateful, upon such slender evidence, as to assert that the dance had ended in a scrimmage, or so presumptuous as to say in what manner I thought that I had been protected during the row, if there had been one.My hosts had nothing to offer me for breakfast but a thin, and by no means tempting pot of hot meal and water. I certainly did taste a little, that I might not seem to disrespect the pretty Norah, who had prepared it for me, and strove to make it palatable by a lump of butter, a delicacy that was offered to no one else. As I was impatient to be off, I kissed the girls heartily, yes, heartily; shook hands with the sons, and prepared for my departure, after having, with considerable difficulty, forced a half-guinea upon my hosts. I begged to know the names of those to whose hospitality I was so much indebted, and, as well as memory will serve me at this distance of time, I think they were specimens of what excellent O’Tooles potatoes are capable of producing. We then resumed our procession down to the beach, I walking first, bearing the boat-hook pikeways, followed by the boat itself borne between the two athletic Tooles, and the procession was closed by the boat’s crew, each with his oar upon his shoulder. We were soon launched and instructed as to the course we were to take. The wind and sea had gone down, and the tide was favourable. We had to pull about five miles to get round the bluff, when we arrived at the sandy little nook from which we had made our involuntary excursion to sea the night before. The spirit of obedience to orders was strong upon me, and in spite of the remonstrance of the boys, I went in and loaded the dinghy nearly down to the gunnel with the sand, for which we had been so much perilled. After all my dangers, I got safely on board before noon, much to the surprise of all on board, who had given us up as lost, and there already had been a coolness between the captain and the first-lieutenant on my account. This coolness promised a warm reception for myself; and I got it.So occupied had Mr Farmer been all the day before with taking in Irish beef and pork, for the West Indian storehouses, and extra water to supply any of the convoy that might fall short of that necessary article, that he had totally forgotten the sand expedition, and it was eight in the evening, just at the time that I was, in the words of the song, “Far, far at sea,” that he was reminded of it. Mr Silva, the second-lieutenant, begged as a favour, that a boat might be lent him, just to put him alongside theRoebuck, one of the two eighteen-gun brigs that was to accompany us as whippers-in to the convoy. As the captain was not expected on board till late, Mr Farmer had not much hesitation in granting the request, with the usual “Take the dinghy, Mr Silva.” But just then the Atlantic had been beforehand with him. The dinghy had not returned. She had been last seen at the sandy nook to which she had been sent. The barge and cutter were immediately manned and sent to look for me. They easily got to the place where I was seen loading, and found the sand disturbed, and nothing else. They returned with some difficulty against the head-wind, and, of course, made a most disheartening report. When the captain returned he was dreadfully angry.Well, as I crept up the side sneakingly, not very well knowing whether I were to enact the hero or the culprit, I concocted a speech that was doomed to share the fate of “the lost inventions.” I saw the captain and Mr Farmer pacing the deck, but both decidedly with their duty faces on. Touching my hat very submissively, I said sheepishly, “I’ve come on board, sir, and—”“You young blackguard! I’ve a great mind—”“To do what, Mr Farmer?” said Captain Reud, interposing.Now I can assure the reader, twenty-five years ago, when we had nearly cleared the seas of every enemy, and the British pennant was really a whip, which had flogged every opponent of the ocean, the “young gentlemen” were sometimes flogged too, and more often called young blackguards than by any other title of honour. All this is altered for the better now. We don’t abuse each other, or flog among ourselves so much—and, the next war, I make no doubt, what we have spared to ourselves we shall bestow upon our enemies. I mention this, that the reader may not suppose that I am coarse in depicting the occasional looseness of the naval manners of the times.“To punish him for staying out all night without leave.”“That’s a great fault, certainly,” said the captain, slily. “Pray, Mr Rattlin, whatinducedyou to commit it?”“Please, sir, I wasn’t induced at all. I was regularly blown out, and now I am as regularly blown—.”“Come, sir, I’ll be your friend, and not permit you to finish your sentence. If it’s a fair question, Mr Rattlin, may I presume to ask where you slept last night?”“With the two Misses O’Tooles,” said I; for really the young ladies were uppermost in my thoughts.“You young reprobate! What, with both?” said the captain, grinning.“Yes sir,” for I now began to feel myself safe; “and Mr and Mrs O’Toole, and Mr Cornelius O’Toole, who has red hair, and Mr Phelim O’Toole, who has a black eye,—and the poultry, and the pigs, and the boat’s crew.”“And where was the boat all this time?”“Sleeping with us, too, sir.”I then shortly detailed what had happened to me, which amused the captain much. “And so,” he continued, “after all, you have brought off the sand. I really commend your perseverance.”A bucket of sand was handed up, and Mr Farmer contemptuously filtered it through his fingers; then turning to me wrathfully, exclaimed, “How dare you bring off for sand, such shelly, pebbly, gritty stuff as this, sir?”“If you please, sir, I had no hand in putting it where I found it, and I only obeyed orders in bringing it off.” For I really felt it to be very unjust to be blamed for the act of nature, and especially as three lives had been endangered to procure a few buckets of worthless earth.The captain thought so too; for he said to Mr Farmer, very coldly, “I think you should have ascertained the quality of the sand before you sent for it; and I don’t think that you should have sent for it at all towards nightfall, and at the beginning of ebb tide. Youngster, you shall dine with me to-day, and give me a history of the O’Tooles.”
Not yet having sufficiently Hibernised my taste to luxuriate on Raleigh’s root, plain, with salt, I begged them to procure me something more placable to an English appetite. I gave money to my hosts, and they procured me eggs and bacon. I might also have had a fowl, but I did not wish to devour guests to whom on my boat’s keel I had given such recent hospitality. They returned me my full change, and, though there was more than enough of what they cooked for me to satisfy myself and boys, they would not partake of the remains, until I assured them, that if they did not I would throw them away. At this intimation they disappeared in a twinkling.
Then came the whiskey—the real dew. I never touched it. I have before stated, that for three years I abstained from all spirituous liquors. My lads had made no such resolution. The big iron pot was now, like an honest old sailor that had done his duty, kicked aside the corner; the drummer and fifer seating themselves on the keel of the inverted dinghy, and struck up a lilt, and:—
“Off they went so gaily O!”
“Off they went so gaily O!”
More lads and lasses came in, and jigs and reels succeeded each other with such rapidity, that, notwithstanding the copious supplies of whiskey, the drummer’s arms failed him, and the fifer had almost blown himself into an atrophy. Did I dance? To be sure I did, and right merrily too. I had such pleasant, fair-haired, rosy, Hebe-like instructresses, ready to tear each other’s eyes out to get me for a partner. Then, they talked Irish so musically, and put the king’s English to death so charmingly that, notwithstanding the heat and smoke of the cabin was upon them, and the whiskey did more than heighten the colour on their lips, they were really enchanting, though stockingless creatures. It has been truly said, that in the social circle, the extremes, as to manners, almost meet. These ladies, I suppose, had gone so far beyond vulgarity, that they were now converging to the superior tone and frankdégagementof the upper classes. Positively it never struck me that I was in vulgar company. I then, of course, could have been but an indifferent judge. But I have thought of it often since, and must say, that in the degrading sense of the word, my company of that night was not vulgar. It was pastoral, and perhaps barbarous, but everything was natural, and everything free from pretension. I did not often again, though I have danced with spirits as unwearied, dance with a heart so light. During this festive evening I saw no indications of that pugnacity so inseparable with Irish hilarity, though there were assembled a dozen of as pretty “broths of boys,” as ever practised skull salutation at Donybrook fair.
At length, about one in the morning, the whiskey had overpowered my boat’s crew, and the whisking myself. They made up a lair for me with abundant greatcoats in the corner of the room, and my eyes gradually closed in sleep, catching, till they were finally sealed up, every now and then, twinklings of bare legs and well-turned ankles, mingled with the clatter of heavy brogues, and the drone of a bagpipe that had now superseded the squeak of the fife, and the rattle of the drum.
I certainly did dream, I suppose about an hour after I had fallen asleep, of the clattering of sticks, the squalling of women, and the cursing of men; and I felt an indistinct sensation, as if people were practising leaping over my body, and finally, as if some soft-rounded figure had caught me in her arms. I was so terribly oppressed with fatigue that I could not awake; and, as the last part of my dream gave me so sweet an idea of happiness and security, if I may use the expression, I shall say, as every novelist has a right to do once in his three volumes—“I was lapped in Elysium.”
Everything was oblivion until I was awakened by one of my lads at eight in the morning, and I arose refreshed, though a little stiff. The hardened clay, which composed the floor, was neatly swept up, the pigs and the poultry were driven out, and a good fire was blazing under the chimney. Of all the party of the night before, there remained only the two fine young men who brought me and my boat up, the elderly couple, and two blooming girls, with the youngest of whom I had danced almost the whole of the previous evening. I observed on one of the young men a tremendous black eye, that certainly was not there the day before, and the other had his temples carefully bandaged, and both my boat-boys complained of being kicked and trampled on during the night, yet I am not so ungrateful, upon such slender evidence, as to assert that the dance had ended in a scrimmage, or so presumptuous as to say in what manner I thought that I had been protected during the row, if there had been one.
My hosts had nothing to offer me for breakfast but a thin, and by no means tempting pot of hot meal and water. I certainly did taste a little, that I might not seem to disrespect the pretty Norah, who had prepared it for me, and strove to make it palatable by a lump of butter, a delicacy that was offered to no one else. As I was impatient to be off, I kissed the girls heartily, yes, heartily; shook hands with the sons, and prepared for my departure, after having, with considerable difficulty, forced a half-guinea upon my hosts. I begged to know the names of those to whose hospitality I was so much indebted, and, as well as memory will serve me at this distance of time, I think they were specimens of what excellent O’Tooles potatoes are capable of producing. We then resumed our procession down to the beach, I walking first, bearing the boat-hook pikeways, followed by the boat itself borne between the two athletic Tooles, and the procession was closed by the boat’s crew, each with his oar upon his shoulder. We were soon launched and instructed as to the course we were to take. The wind and sea had gone down, and the tide was favourable. We had to pull about five miles to get round the bluff, when we arrived at the sandy little nook from which we had made our involuntary excursion to sea the night before. The spirit of obedience to orders was strong upon me, and in spite of the remonstrance of the boys, I went in and loaded the dinghy nearly down to the gunnel with the sand, for which we had been so much perilled. After all my dangers, I got safely on board before noon, much to the surprise of all on board, who had given us up as lost, and there already had been a coolness between the captain and the first-lieutenant on my account. This coolness promised a warm reception for myself; and I got it.
So occupied had Mr Farmer been all the day before with taking in Irish beef and pork, for the West Indian storehouses, and extra water to supply any of the convoy that might fall short of that necessary article, that he had totally forgotten the sand expedition, and it was eight in the evening, just at the time that I was, in the words of the song, “Far, far at sea,” that he was reminded of it. Mr Silva, the second-lieutenant, begged as a favour, that a boat might be lent him, just to put him alongside theRoebuck, one of the two eighteen-gun brigs that was to accompany us as whippers-in to the convoy. As the captain was not expected on board till late, Mr Farmer had not much hesitation in granting the request, with the usual “Take the dinghy, Mr Silva.” But just then the Atlantic had been beforehand with him. The dinghy had not returned. She had been last seen at the sandy nook to which she had been sent. The barge and cutter were immediately manned and sent to look for me. They easily got to the place where I was seen loading, and found the sand disturbed, and nothing else. They returned with some difficulty against the head-wind, and, of course, made a most disheartening report. When the captain returned he was dreadfully angry.
Well, as I crept up the side sneakingly, not very well knowing whether I were to enact the hero or the culprit, I concocted a speech that was doomed to share the fate of “the lost inventions.” I saw the captain and Mr Farmer pacing the deck, but both decidedly with their duty faces on. Touching my hat very submissively, I said sheepishly, “I’ve come on board, sir, and—”
“You young blackguard! I’ve a great mind—”
“To do what, Mr Farmer?” said Captain Reud, interposing.
Now I can assure the reader, twenty-five years ago, when we had nearly cleared the seas of every enemy, and the British pennant was really a whip, which had flogged every opponent of the ocean, the “young gentlemen” were sometimes flogged too, and more often called young blackguards than by any other title of honour. All this is altered for the better now. We don’t abuse each other, or flog among ourselves so much—and, the next war, I make no doubt, what we have spared to ourselves we shall bestow upon our enemies. I mention this, that the reader may not suppose that I am coarse in depicting the occasional looseness of the naval manners of the times.
“To punish him for staying out all night without leave.”
“That’s a great fault, certainly,” said the captain, slily. “Pray, Mr Rattlin, whatinducedyou to commit it?”
“Please, sir, I wasn’t induced at all. I was regularly blown out, and now I am as regularly blown—.”
“Come, sir, I’ll be your friend, and not permit you to finish your sentence. If it’s a fair question, Mr Rattlin, may I presume to ask where you slept last night?”
“With the two Misses O’Tooles,” said I; for really the young ladies were uppermost in my thoughts.
“You young reprobate! What, with both?” said the captain, grinning.
“Yes sir,” for I now began to feel myself safe; “and Mr and Mrs O’Toole, and Mr Cornelius O’Toole, who has red hair, and Mr Phelim O’Toole, who has a black eye,—and the poultry, and the pigs, and the boat’s crew.”
“And where was the boat all this time?”
“Sleeping with us, too, sir.”
I then shortly detailed what had happened to me, which amused the captain much. “And so,” he continued, “after all, you have brought off the sand. I really commend your perseverance.”
A bucket of sand was handed up, and Mr Farmer contemptuously filtered it through his fingers; then turning to me wrathfully, exclaimed, “How dare you bring off for sand, such shelly, pebbly, gritty stuff as this, sir?”
“If you please, sir, I had no hand in putting it where I found it, and I only obeyed orders in bringing it off.” For I really felt it to be very unjust to be blamed for the act of nature, and especially as three lives had been endangered to procure a few buckets of worthless earth.
The captain thought so too; for he said to Mr Farmer, very coldly, “I think you should have ascertained the quality of the sand before you sent for it; and I don’t think that you should have sent for it at all towards nightfall, and at the beginning of ebb tide. Youngster, you shall dine with me to-day, and give me a history of the O’Tooles.”
Chapter Thirty Six.An invaliding suit—The cards well played, and by a trump—The odd trick, however, in much danger—The Doctor finesses with a good heart, but diamonds are cutting articles.Two days had elapsed after my incursions upon the “wild Irishers,” during which our surgeon had kept himself closely to his cabin, when he wrote a letter on service to the captain, requesting a survey upon his self-libelled rotundity of body. The captain, according to the laws of the service, “in that case made and provided,” forwarded the letter to the port-admiral, who appointed the following day for the awful inspection. As I said before, the skipper and his first-lieutenant had laid down a scheme of a counter-plot, and they now began to put it into execution. Immediately that Dr Thompson had received his answer, he began to dose himself immoderately with tartarised antimony and other drugs, to give his round and hitherto ruddy countenance the pallor of disease. He commenced getting up his invaliding suit.It had been a great puzzle to his brother officers, to understand what two weasan-faced mechanical-looking men, from the shore, had been doing in his cabin the greater part of the night. They did not believe, as the doctor intimated, that they were functionaries of the law, taking instructions for his last will and testament; though the astute surgeon had sent a note to Mr Farmer, the first-lieutenant, with what he thought infinite cunning, to know, in case of anything fatal happening immediately to the writer, whether his friend would prefer to have bequeathed to him the testator’s double-barrelled fowling piece, or his superb Manton’s duelling-pistols. Mr Farmer replied, “that he would very willingly take his chance of both.”At twelve o’clock everything was ready. The survey was to take place in the captain’s cabin. Dr Thompson sends for his two assistants, and then, for the first time for three days, he emerges, leaning heavily upon both his supporters.Can this be the jovial and rubicund doctor? Whose deadly white face is that, that peers out from under the shadow of an immense green shade? The lips are livid—the corners of the mouth drawn down—and yet there is a triumphant sneer in their very depression. The officers gather round him, he lifts up his head slowly, and then looks round and shakes it despondingly. His eyes are dreadfully bloodshot. His mess-mates, the young ones especially, begin to think that his illness is real. There is the real sympathy of condolence in the greetings of all but the hard-a-weather master, the witty purser, and the obdurate first. The invalid was apparelled in an ancient roast-beef uniform coat, bottle-green from age; the waistcoat had flaps indicative of fifty years’ antiquity, and the breeches were indescribable. He wore large blue-worsted stockings folded up outside above the knee, but carefully wrinkled and disordered over the calf of the leg, in order to conceal its healthy mass of muscle. Big as was the doctor, his clothes were all, as Shakespeare has it, “a world too big,” though we cannot finish the quotation by adding, “for his shrunk shank.” Instead of two lawyers’ clerks, the sly rogue had had two industrious snips closeted with him, for the purpose of enlarging this particular suit of clothes to the utmost.“In the name of ten thousand decencies, doctor,” exclaimed Mr Farmer, “who made you that figure?”“Disease,” was the palsied and sepulchral reply.“But the clothes—the clothes—these incomprehensible clothes?”“Are good enough to die in.”“But I doubt,” said the purser, “whether either they or their wearer be good enough to die.”There was a laugh, but it was not infectious as respected the occasion of it. He shook his head mournfully, and said, “The flippancy of rude health—the inconsiderate laugh of strong youth!”With much difficulty he permitted himself to be partly carried up the ladder, and seated in all the dignity of suffering, in a chair in the fore-cabin, the two assistants standing, one on each side of him, in mute observation.It is twelve o’clock—half-past twelve—one—two. The captain is coming on board—tell the officers—the side is manned—the boatswain pipes—and the little great man arrives, and, attended by Mr Farmer, enters the cabin. Prepared as he was for a deception, even he starts back with surprise at the figure before him.With one hand upon a shoulder of each of his assistants, the doctor, with an asthmatical effort, rises.“Well, doctor, how are you?”The doctor shook his head.“Matters have gone a great length, I see.”Another shake, eloquent with suffering and despondency.“I understand from my friend here” (Mr Farmer and hewerefriends sometimes for half an hour together), “that with Christian providence you have been making your will. Now, my dear doctor, it is true, that we have hardly been three months associated; but that time, short as it is, has given me the highest opinion of your convivial qualities, your professional skill, and the greatdepthof your understanding. Deep—very deep! You must not class me among the mean herd of legacy-hunters; but I would willingly have some token by which to remember so excellent a man, and an officer so able, and sounshrinkingin the performance of his duties.”“There is my tobacco-box,” said the doctor with feeble malice; “for though chewing the weed cannot cure, it can conceal a bad breath.”The captain winced. It was a thrust with a double-edged sword. He was what we now call, an exquisite, in person, and one to whom the idea of chewing tobacco was abhorrent, whilst he was actually and distressingly troubled with the infirmity hinted at. For a moment, the suavity of his manner was destroyed, and he forgot the respect due to the dying.“Damn the tobacco box—and damn that—never mind—no, no, doctor, you had better order the box to be buried with you, for nobodycoulduse it after you; but if I might presume so far—might use the very great liberty to make a selection, I would request, entreat, nay, implore you to leave me the wholesuit of clothesin which you are now standing; and if you would be so considerate, so kind, so generous, by God I’ll have them stuffed and preserved as a curiosity.”“Captain Reud, you are too good. Mr Staples,” turning helplessly to his assistant, “get me immediately an effervescing draught. Excuse my sitting—I am very faint—you are so kind—you quiteovercomeme.”“No, not yet,” said the captain in a dry tone, but full of meaning. “I may perhaps by-and-by, when you know more of me; but now—O no! However, I’ll do my best to make you grateful. And I’m sorry to acquaint you, that the admiral has put off the survey till twelve o’clock to-morrow, when I trust that you will be as wellpreparedas you are now. Don’t be dejected, doctor, you have the consolation of knowing, that if you die in the meantime, all the annoyance of the examination will be saved you. In the interim, don’t forget the old clothes—the invaliding suit. My clerk shall step down with you into the cabin, and tack a memorandum on, by way of codicil, to your will: don’t omit those high-quartered, square-toed shoes, with the brass buckles.”“If you would promise to wear them out yourself.”“No, no; but I promise to put them on when I am going to invalid; or to lend them to Mr Farmer, or any other friend, on a similar occasion.”“I hope,” said Mr Farmer, “that I shall never stand in the doctor’s shoes.”“I hope you never will—nor in Captain Reud’s either.”The gallant commander turned from yellow to black at this innuendo, which was, for many reasons, particularly disagreeable. Seeing that he was bagging to leeward, like a west-country barge laden with a haystack, in this sailing-match of wits, he broke up the conference by observing, “You had better, doctor, in consideration of your weakness, retire to your cabin. I certainly cannot, seeing my near prospect of your invaluable legacy, in any honesty wish you better.”With all due precautions, hesitations, and restings, Dr Thompson reached his cabin, and I doubt not as he descended, enervated as he was, but that he placed, like O’Connell, a vow in heaven, that if ever Captain Reud fell under his surgical claws, the active operations of Dr Sangrado should be in their celerity even as the progress of the sloth, compared with the despatch and energy with which he would proceed on the coveted opportunity.When he was alone he was overheard to murmur, “Stand in my shoes—the ignorant puppies! I shall see one of them, if not both in their shrouds yet. Stand in my shoes! it is true the buckles are but brass; but they are shoes whose latchets they are not worthy to unloose.”There was then another day for the poor doctor, of fasting, tartarised antimony, and irritating eye-salve. And the captain, no doubt in secret understanding with the admiral, played off the same trick. The survey was deferred from day to day, for six days, and until the very one before the ship weighed anchor. It must have been a period of intense vexation and bodily suffering to the manoeuvring doctor.Each day as he made his appearance at noon in the captain’s cabin, he had to wait in miserable state his hour and a half; or two hours, and then to meet the gibing salutation of the captain, of; “Not dead yet, doctor?” with his jokes upon the invaliding suit. The misery of the deception, and the sufferings that he was forced to self-impose to keep it up, as he afterwards confessed, had nearly conquered him on the third day: that he was a man of the most enduring courage to brave a whole week of such martyrdom, must be conceded to him. Had the farce continued a day or two longer, he would have had the disagreeable option forced upon him, either of being seriously ill, or of returninginstanterto excellent health.
Two days had elapsed after my incursions upon the “wild Irishers,” during which our surgeon had kept himself closely to his cabin, when he wrote a letter on service to the captain, requesting a survey upon his self-libelled rotundity of body. The captain, according to the laws of the service, “in that case made and provided,” forwarded the letter to the port-admiral, who appointed the following day for the awful inspection. As I said before, the skipper and his first-lieutenant had laid down a scheme of a counter-plot, and they now began to put it into execution. Immediately that Dr Thompson had received his answer, he began to dose himself immoderately with tartarised antimony and other drugs, to give his round and hitherto ruddy countenance the pallor of disease. He commenced getting up his invaliding suit.
It had been a great puzzle to his brother officers, to understand what two weasan-faced mechanical-looking men, from the shore, had been doing in his cabin the greater part of the night. They did not believe, as the doctor intimated, that they were functionaries of the law, taking instructions for his last will and testament; though the astute surgeon had sent a note to Mr Farmer, the first-lieutenant, with what he thought infinite cunning, to know, in case of anything fatal happening immediately to the writer, whether his friend would prefer to have bequeathed to him the testator’s double-barrelled fowling piece, or his superb Manton’s duelling-pistols. Mr Farmer replied, “that he would very willingly take his chance of both.”
At twelve o’clock everything was ready. The survey was to take place in the captain’s cabin. Dr Thompson sends for his two assistants, and then, for the first time for three days, he emerges, leaning heavily upon both his supporters.
Can this be the jovial and rubicund doctor? Whose deadly white face is that, that peers out from under the shadow of an immense green shade? The lips are livid—the corners of the mouth drawn down—and yet there is a triumphant sneer in their very depression. The officers gather round him, he lifts up his head slowly, and then looks round and shakes it despondingly. His eyes are dreadfully bloodshot. His mess-mates, the young ones especially, begin to think that his illness is real. There is the real sympathy of condolence in the greetings of all but the hard-a-weather master, the witty purser, and the obdurate first. The invalid was apparelled in an ancient roast-beef uniform coat, bottle-green from age; the waistcoat had flaps indicative of fifty years’ antiquity, and the breeches were indescribable. He wore large blue-worsted stockings folded up outside above the knee, but carefully wrinkled and disordered over the calf of the leg, in order to conceal its healthy mass of muscle. Big as was the doctor, his clothes were all, as Shakespeare has it, “a world too big,” though we cannot finish the quotation by adding, “for his shrunk shank.” Instead of two lawyers’ clerks, the sly rogue had had two industrious snips closeted with him, for the purpose of enlarging this particular suit of clothes to the utmost.
“In the name of ten thousand decencies, doctor,” exclaimed Mr Farmer, “who made you that figure?”
“Disease,” was the palsied and sepulchral reply.
“But the clothes—the clothes—these incomprehensible clothes?”
“Are good enough to die in.”
“But I doubt,” said the purser, “whether either they or their wearer be good enough to die.”
There was a laugh, but it was not infectious as respected the occasion of it. He shook his head mournfully, and said, “The flippancy of rude health—the inconsiderate laugh of strong youth!”
With much difficulty he permitted himself to be partly carried up the ladder, and seated in all the dignity of suffering, in a chair in the fore-cabin, the two assistants standing, one on each side of him, in mute observation.
It is twelve o’clock—half-past twelve—one—two. The captain is coming on board—tell the officers—the side is manned—the boatswain pipes—and the little great man arrives, and, attended by Mr Farmer, enters the cabin. Prepared as he was for a deception, even he starts back with surprise at the figure before him.
With one hand upon a shoulder of each of his assistants, the doctor, with an asthmatical effort, rises.
“Well, doctor, how are you?”
The doctor shook his head.
“Matters have gone a great length, I see.”
Another shake, eloquent with suffering and despondency.
“I understand from my friend here” (Mr Farmer and hewerefriends sometimes for half an hour together), “that with Christian providence you have been making your will. Now, my dear doctor, it is true, that we have hardly been three months associated; but that time, short as it is, has given me the highest opinion of your convivial qualities, your professional skill, and the greatdepthof your understanding. Deep—very deep! You must not class me among the mean herd of legacy-hunters; but I would willingly have some token by which to remember so excellent a man, and an officer so able, and sounshrinkingin the performance of his duties.”
“There is my tobacco-box,” said the doctor with feeble malice; “for though chewing the weed cannot cure, it can conceal a bad breath.”
The captain winced. It was a thrust with a double-edged sword. He was what we now call, an exquisite, in person, and one to whom the idea of chewing tobacco was abhorrent, whilst he was actually and distressingly troubled with the infirmity hinted at. For a moment, the suavity of his manner was destroyed, and he forgot the respect due to the dying.
“Damn the tobacco box—and damn that—never mind—no, no, doctor, you had better order the box to be buried with you, for nobodycoulduse it after you; but if I might presume so far—might use the very great liberty to make a selection, I would request, entreat, nay, implore you to leave me the wholesuit of clothesin which you are now standing; and if you would be so considerate, so kind, so generous, by God I’ll have them stuffed and preserved as a curiosity.”
“Captain Reud, you are too good. Mr Staples,” turning helplessly to his assistant, “get me immediately an effervescing draught. Excuse my sitting—I am very faint—you are so kind—you quiteovercomeme.”
“No, not yet,” said the captain in a dry tone, but full of meaning. “I may perhaps by-and-by, when you know more of me; but now—O no! However, I’ll do my best to make you grateful. And I’m sorry to acquaint you, that the admiral has put off the survey till twelve o’clock to-morrow, when I trust that you will be as wellpreparedas you are now. Don’t be dejected, doctor, you have the consolation of knowing, that if you die in the meantime, all the annoyance of the examination will be saved you. In the interim, don’t forget the old clothes—the invaliding suit. My clerk shall step down with you into the cabin, and tack a memorandum on, by way of codicil, to your will: don’t omit those high-quartered, square-toed shoes, with the brass buckles.”
“If you would promise to wear them out yourself.”
“No, no; but I promise to put them on when I am going to invalid; or to lend them to Mr Farmer, or any other friend, on a similar occasion.”
“I hope,” said Mr Farmer, “that I shall never stand in the doctor’s shoes.”
“I hope you never will—nor in Captain Reud’s either.”
The gallant commander turned from yellow to black at this innuendo, which was, for many reasons, particularly disagreeable. Seeing that he was bagging to leeward, like a west-country barge laden with a haystack, in this sailing-match of wits, he broke up the conference by observing, “You had better, doctor, in consideration of your weakness, retire to your cabin. I certainly cannot, seeing my near prospect of your invaluable legacy, in any honesty wish you better.”
With all due precautions, hesitations, and restings, Dr Thompson reached his cabin, and I doubt not as he descended, enervated as he was, but that he placed, like O’Connell, a vow in heaven, that if ever Captain Reud fell under his surgical claws, the active operations of Dr Sangrado should be in their celerity even as the progress of the sloth, compared with the despatch and energy with which he would proceed on the coveted opportunity.
When he was alone he was overheard to murmur, “Stand in my shoes—the ignorant puppies! I shall see one of them, if not both in their shrouds yet. Stand in my shoes! it is true the buckles are but brass; but they are shoes whose latchets they are not worthy to unloose.”
There was then another day for the poor doctor, of fasting, tartarised antimony, and irritating eye-salve. And the captain, no doubt in secret understanding with the admiral, played off the same trick. The survey was deferred from day to day, for six days, and until the very one before the ship weighed anchor. It must have been a period of intense vexation and bodily suffering to the manoeuvring doctor.
Each day as he made his appearance at noon in the captain’s cabin, he had to wait in miserable state his hour and a half; or two hours, and then to meet the gibing salutation of the captain, of; “Not dead yet, doctor?” with his jokes upon the invaliding suit. The misery of the deception, and the sufferings that he was forced to self-impose to keep it up, as he afterwards confessed, had nearly conquered him on the third day: that he was a man of the most enduring courage to brave a whole week of such martyrdom, must be conceded to him. Had the farce continued a day or two longer, he would have had the disagreeable option forced upon him, either of being seriously ill, or of returninginstanterto excellent health.
Chapter Thirty Seven.Valid reasons for invaliding—The patient cured in spite of himself—And a lecture on disease in general, with a particular case of instruments as expositors.At length the important day arrived on which the survey did assemble. The large table in the cabin was duly littered over with paper and medical books, and supplied with pens and ink. Three post-captains in gallant array, with swords by their sides, our own captain being one, and three surgeons with lancets in their pockets, congregated with grave politeness, and taking their chairs according to precedency of rank, formed the Hygeian court. A fitting preparation was necessary, so the captains began to debate upon the various pretensions of the beautiful Phrynes of Cork—the three medical men, whether the plague was contagious or infectious, or both—or neither. At the precise moment when Captain Reud was maintaining the superiority of the attractions of a blonde Daphne against the assertions of a champion of a dark Phyllis, and the eldest surgeon had been, by the heat of the argument, carried so far as to maintain, in asserting the non-infectious and non-contagious nature of the plague, that you could not give it a man by inoculating him with its virus, the patient, on whose case they had met to decide, appeared.In addition to the green shade, our doctor had enwrapped his throat with an immense scarlet comforter; so that the reflection of the green above, and the contrast with the colour below, made the pallor of his face still more lividly pale. He was well got up. Captain Reud nodded to the surgeons to go on, and he proceeded with his own argument.Thus there were two debates at this time proceeding with much heat, and with just so much acrimony as to make them highly interesting. With the noble posts it was one to two, that is, our captain, the Daphneite, had drawn upon him the other two captains, both of whom were Phyllisites. When a man has to argue against two, and is not quite certain of being in the right either, he has nothing for it but to be very loud. Now men, divine as they are, have some things in common with the canine species. Go into a village and you will observe that when one cur begins to yelp, every dog’s ear catches the sound, bristles up, and every throat is opened in clamorous emulation. Captain Reud talked fast as well as loud, so he was nearly upon a par with his opponents, who only talked loud.At the other end of the table the odds were two to one, which is not always the same as one to two; that is, the two older surgeons were opposed to the youngest. These three were just as loud within one note—the note under being the tribute they unconciously paid to naval discipline—as the three captains. Both parties were descanting upon plagues.“I say, sir,” said the little surgeon, who was the eldest, “it isnotinfectious. But here comes Dr Thompson.”Now the erudite doctor, from the first, had no great chance. Captain Reud had determined he should not be invalided. The two other captains cared nothing at all about the matter, but, of course, would not be so impolitic as to differ from their superior officer—an officer, too, of large interest, and the Amphytrion of the day; for when they had performed those duties for which they were so well fitted, their medical ones, they were to dine on the scene of their arduous labours. The eldest surgeon had rather a bias against the doctor, as he could not legally put M.D. against his own name. The next in seniority was entirely adverse to the invaliding, as, without he could invalide too, he would have to go to the West Indies in the place of our surgeon. The youngest was indifferent just then to anything but to confute the other two, and prove the plague infectious.“But here comes Dr Thompson—I’ll appeal to him,” said non-infection; but the appeal was unfortunate, both for the appealer and the doctor. The latter was an infectionist; so there was no longer any odds, but two against two, and away they went. Our friend in the wide coat forgot he was sick, and his adversaries that they had to verify it; they sought to verify nothing but their dogmas. They waxed loud, then cuttingly polite, then slaughteringly sarcastic and, at last, exceeding wroth.“I tell you, sir, that I have written a volume on the subject.”“Had you no friend near you,” said Dr Thompson, “at that most unfortunate time?”“I tell you, sir, I will never argue with anyone on the subject, unless he have read my Latin treatise ‘De Natura Pestium et Pestilentiarum.’”“Then you’ll never argue but with yourself,” said the stout young surgeon.Then arose the voices of the men militant over those of the men curative.“The finest eye,” vociferated our skipper, “Captain Templar, that ever beamed from mortal. Its lovely blue, contrasted with her white skin, is just like—”“A washerwoman’s stone-blue bag among her soapsuds—stony enough.”Here the medical voices preponderated, and expressions such as these became distinct—“Do you accuse me of ignorance, sir–r–r?”“No, sir–r–r. I merely assert that you know nothing at all of the matter.”In the midst of this uproar I was walking the quarter-deck with the purser.“What a terrible noise they are making in the cabin,” I observed. “What can they be doing?”“Invaliding the surgeon,” said the marine officer, who had just joined us, looking wise.“Doubted,” said the purser.“What a dreadful operation it must be,” said a young Irish young-gentlemen (all young gentlemen in the navy are notyoung), “but, for the honour of the service, he might take it any how, for the life of him.”“The very thing he is trying to do,” was the purser’s reply.But let us return to the cabin, and collect what we can here, and record the sentences as they obtain the mastery, at either end of the table.“Look at her step,” said a captain, speaking of his lady.“Tottering, feeble, zig-zag,” said a surgeon, speaking of one stricken with the plague.“Her fine open, ivory brow—”“Is marked all over with disgusting pustules.”“Her breath is—”“Oh, her delicious breath!”“Noisome, poisonous, corruption.”“In fact, her whole lovely body is a region of—”“Pestilent discolorations, and foul sores.”“And,” roared out Captain Templar, “if you would but pass a single hour in her company—”“You would assuredly repent of your temerity,” said the obstinate contagionist.This confusion lasted about a quarter of an hour, a time sufficient, in all conscience, to invalide a West Indian regiment.“Well, gentlemen,” said Captain Reud, rising a little chafed, “have you come to a conclusion upon this very plain case? I see the doctor looks better already—his face is no longer pale.”“I tell you what,” said the senior surgeon, rising abruptly with the others, “since you will neither listen to me, to reason, nor to my book, though I will not answer for the sanity of your mind, I will for that of your body. My duty, sir, my duty, will not permit me to invalide you.”“Never saw a healthier man in my life,” said the second surgeon.“Never mind, doctor,” said the third, “we have fairly beaten them in the argument.”The gallant captains burst out into obstreperous laughter, and so the survey was broken up, and the principal surgeons declared that our poor doctor was in sound health, because they found him unsound in his opinions.The three surgeons took their departure, the eldest saying with a grim smile to Thompson, “It may correct some errors, and prepare you for next invaliding day. Shall I send you my book, ‘De Natura Pestium et Pestilentiarum?’”The jolly doctor, with a smile equally grim, thanked him, and formally declined the gift, assuring him “that at the present time, the ship was well stocked with emetics.”Now, the good doctor was a wag, and the captain, for fun, a very monkey. The aspirant for invaliding sat himself down again at one end of the table, as the captains did at the other. Wine, anchovies, sandwiches, oysters, and other light and stimulating viands were produced to make a relishing lunch. Captain Reud threw a triumphant and right merry glance across the table on the silent and discomfited doctor. The servant had placed before him a cover and glasses unbidden.“Bring the doctor’s plate,” said the captain. The doctor was passive—the plate was brought, filled with luxuries, and placed directly under his nose. The temptation was terrible. He had been fasting and macerating himself for eight or nine days. He glared upon it with a gloomy longing. He then looked up wistfully, and a droll smile mantled across his vast face, and eddied in the holes of his deep pock-marks.“A glass of wine, doctor?” The decanter was pushed before him, and his glass filled by the servant. The doctor shook his head and said, “I dare not, but will put it to my lips in courtesy.”He did so, and when the glass reached the table it was empty. He then began gradually to unwind his huge woollen comforter, and when he thought himself unobserved, he stole the encumbrance into his ample coat-pocket. He next proceeded to toss about, with a careless abstraction, the large masses of cold fowl and ham in his plate, and, by some unimaginable process, without the use of his knife he contrived to separate them into edible pieces. They disappeared rapidly, and the plate was almost as soon empty as the wine-glass.The green shade, by some unaccountable accident, now fell from his eyes, and, instead of again fixing it on, it found its way to the pocket, to keep company with the comforter. Near him stood a dish of delicious oysters, the which he silently coaxed towards his empty plate, and sent the contents furtively down his much wronged throat.The other gentlemen watched these operations with mute delight; and, after a space, Captain Templar challenged him to a bumper, which was taken and swallowed without much squeamishness. The doctor found that he had still a difficult task to play; he knew that his artifice was discovered, and that the best way to repair the error was to boldly throw off the transparent disguise. The presence of the two stranger captains was still a restraint upon him. At length he cast his eyes upon Captain Reud, and putting into his countenance the drollest look of deprecation mingled with fun, said plaintively, “Are we friends, Captain Reud?”“The best in the world, doctor,” was the quick reply, and he rose and extended his open hand. Doctor Thompson rose also and advanced to the head of the table, and they shook hands most heartily. The two other captains begged to do the same, and to congratulate him on his rapid convalescence.“To prove to you, doctor, the estimation in which I hold you, you shall dine with us, and we’ll have a night of it,” said the skipper.“Oh! Captain Reud, Captain Reud, consider—really I cannot get well so fast as that would indicate.”“You must, you must. Gentlemen, no man makes better punch. Consider the punch, doctor.”“Truly, that alters the case. As these dolts of surgeons could not fully understand the diagnostics of my disease, I suppose I must do my duty for theleetlewhile longer that I have to live. Iwilldo my duty, and attend you punctually at five o’clock, in order to see that there be no deleterious ingredients mingled in the punch.” Saying which he bowed and left the cabin, without leaning on the shoulder of either of his assistants.But he had yet the worst ordeal to undergo—to brave the attack of his messmates—and he did it nobly. They were all assembled in the ward-room; for those that saw him descend, if not there before, went immediately and joined him. He waddled to the head of the table, and when seated, exclaimed in a stentorian voice, “Steward, a glass of half-and-half. Gentlemen, I presume you do not understand a medical case. Steward, bring my case of pistols and the cold meat. I say, you do not understand a medical case.”“But we do yours,” interrupted two or three voices at once.“No, you don’t; you may understand that case better,” shoving his long-barrelled Manton duellers on to the middle of the table. “Now, gentlemen—I do not mean to bully—I am only, God help me, a weak civil arm of the service,”—and whining a little—“still very far from well. Now I’ll state my case to you, for your satisfaction, and to prevent any little mistakes. I was lately afflicted with a sort of nondescript atrophy, a stagnation of the fluids, a congestion of the small blood-vessels, and a spasmodic contraction of the finitesimal nerves, that threatened very serious consequences. At the survey, two of the surgeons, ignorant quacks that they are, broached a most ridiculous opinion—a heterodox doctrine—a damnable heresy. On hearing it, my indignation was so much roused, that a reaction took place in my system, as instantaneous as the effects of a galvanic battery. My vital energies rallied, the stagnation of my fluids ceased, the small blood-vessels that had mutinied returned to their duty; and I am happy to say, that, though now far from enjoying good health, I am rapidly approaching it. That is my case. Now for yours. As, gentlemen, we are to be cooped up in this wooden enclosure for months, perhaps years, it is a duty that we owe to ourselves to promote the happiness of each other by good temper, politeness, mutual forbearance, and kindness. In none of these shall you find me wanting, and to prove it, I will say this much—singular cases will call forth singular remarks; you must be aware that if such be dwelt on too long, they will become offensive to me, and disturb that union which I am so anxious to promote. So let us have done with the subject at once—make all your remarks now—joke, quiz, jeer, and flaunt, just for one half hour,”—taking out his watch, and laying it gently on the table—“by that time I shall have finished my lunch, which, by-the-by, I began in the cabin; there will be sufficient time for you to say all your smart things on the occasion; but if after that I hear any more on the subject, by heavens, that man who shall dare to twit me with it, shall go with me to the nearest shore if in harbour—or shoot me, or I him, across the table at sea. Now, gentlemen, begin if you please.”“The devil a word will I ever utter on the matter,” said Farmer, “and there’s my hand upon it.”“Nor I.”“Nor I.”And every messmate shook him heartily by the hand, and by them the subject was dropped, and for ever. That evening Dr Thompson made the captain’s punch, having carefully locked up in his largest tea-chest his invaliding suit.Whatever impression this anecdote may make on the reader, if it be one injurious to the doctor, we beg to tell him, that he proved a very blessing to the ship,—the kind friend, as well as the skilful and tender physician, the promoter of every social enjoyment, the soother of conflicting passions, the interceder for the offending, and the peace-maker for all.
At length the important day arrived on which the survey did assemble. The large table in the cabin was duly littered over with paper and medical books, and supplied with pens and ink. Three post-captains in gallant array, with swords by their sides, our own captain being one, and three surgeons with lancets in their pockets, congregated with grave politeness, and taking their chairs according to precedency of rank, formed the Hygeian court. A fitting preparation was necessary, so the captains began to debate upon the various pretensions of the beautiful Phrynes of Cork—the three medical men, whether the plague was contagious or infectious, or both—or neither. At the precise moment when Captain Reud was maintaining the superiority of the attractions of a blonde Daphne against the assertions of a champion of a dark Phyllis, and the eldest surgeon had been, by the heat of the argument, carried so far as to maintain, in asserting the non-infectious and non-contagious nature of the plague, that you could not give it a man by inoculating him with its virus, the patient, on whose case they had met to decide, appeared.
In addition to the green shade, our doctor had enwrapped his throat with an immense scarlet comforter; so that the reflection of the green above, and the contrast with the colour below, made the pallor of his face still more lividly pale. He was well got up. Captain Reud nodded to the surgeons to go on, and he proceeded with his own argument.
Thus there were two debates at this time proceeding with much heat, and with just so much acrimony as to make them highly interesting. With the noble posts it was one to two, that is, our captain, the Daphneite, had drawn upon him the other two captains, both of whom were Phyllisites. When a man has to argue against two, and is not quite certain of being in the right either, he has nothing for it but to be very loud. Now men, divine as they are, have some things in common with the canine species. Go into a village and you will observe that when one cur begins to yelp, every dog’s ear catches the sound, bristles up, and every throat is opened in clamorous emulation. Captain Reud talked fast as well as loud, so he was nearly upon a par with his opponents, who only talked loud.
At the other end of the table the odds were two to one, which is not always the same as one to two; that is, the two older surgeons were opposed to the youngest. These three were just as loud within one note—the note under being the tribute they unconciously paid to naval discipline—as the three captains. Both parties were descanting upon plagues.
“I say, sir,” said the little surgeon, who was the eldest, “it isnotinfectious. But here comes Dr Thompson.”
Now the erudite doctor, from the first, had no great chance. Captain Reud had determined he should not be invalided. The two other captains cared nothing at all about the matter, but, of course, would not be so impolitic as to differ from their superior officer—an officer, too, of large interest, and the Amphytrion of the day; for when they had performed those duties for which they were so well fitted, their medical ones, they were to dine on the scene of their arduous labours. The eldest surgeon had rather a bias against the doctor, as he could not legally put M.D. against his own name. The next in seniority was entirely adverse to the invaliding, as, without he could invalide too, he would have to go to the West Indies in the place of our surgeon. The youngest was indifferent just then to anything but to confute the other two, and prove the plague infectious.
“But here comes Dr Thompson—I’ll appeal to him,” said non-infection; but the appeal was unfortunate, both for the appealer and the doctor. The latter was an infectionist; so there was no longer any odds, but two against two, and away they went. Our friend in the wide coat forgot he was sick, and his adversaries that they had to verify it; they sought to verify nothing but their dogmas. They waxed loud, then cuttingly polite, then slaughteringly sarcastic and, at last, exceeding wroth.
“I tell you, sir, that I have written a volume on the subject.”
“Had you no friend near you,” said Dr Thompson, “at that most unfortunate time?”
“I tell you, sir, I will never argue with anyone on the subject, unless he have read my Latin treatise ‘De Natura Pestium et Pestilentiarum.’”
“Then you’ll never argue but with yourself,” said the stout young surgeon.
Then arose the voices of the men militant over those of the men curative.
“The finest eye,” vociferated our skipper, “Captain Templar, that ever beamed from mortal. Its lovely blue, contrasted with her white skin, is just like—”
“A washerwoman’s stone-blue bag among her soapsuds—stony enough.”
Here the medical voices preponderated, and expressions such as these became distinct—“Do you accuse me of ignorance, sir–r–r?”
“No, sir–r–r. I merely assert that you know nothing at all of the matter.”
In the midst of this uproar I was walking the quarter-deck with the purser.
“What a terrible noise they are making in the cabin,” I observed. “What can they be doing?”
“Invaliding the surgeon,” said the marine officer, who had just joined us, looking wise.
“Doubted,” said the purser.
“What a dreadful operation it must be,” said a young Irish young-gentlemen (all young gentlemen in the navy are notyoung), “but, for the honour of the service, he might take it any how, for the life of him.”
“The very thing he is trying to do,” was the purser’s reply.
But let us return to the cabin, and collect what we can here, and record the sentences as they obtain the mastery, at either end of the table.
“Look at her step,” said a captain, speaking of his lady.
“Tottering, feeble, zig-zag,” said a surgeon, speaking of one stricken with the plague.
“Her fine open, ivory brow—”
“Is marked all over with disgusting pustules.”
“Her breath is—”
“Oh, her delicious breath!”
“Noisome, poisonous, corruption.”
“In fact, her whole lovely body is a region of—”
“Pestilent discolorations, and foul sores.”
“And,” roared out Captain Templar, “if you would but pass a single hour in her company—”
“You would assuredly repent of your temerity,” said the obstinate contagionist.
This confusion lasted about a quarter of an hour, a time sufficient, in all conscience, to invalide a West Indian regiment.
“Well, gentlemen,” said Captain Reud, rising a little chafed, “have you come to a conclusion upon this very plain case? I see the doctor looks better already—his face is no longer pale.”
“I tell you what,” said the senior surgeon, rising abruptly with the others, “since you will neither listen to me, to reason, nor to my book, though I will not answer for the sanity of your mind, I will for that of your body. My duty, sir, my duty, will not permit me to invalide you.”
“Never saw a healthier man in my life,” said the second surgeon.
“Never mind, doctor,” said the third, “we have fairly beaten them in the argument.”
The gallant captains burst out into obstreperous laughter, and so the survey was broken up, and the principal surgeons declared that our poor doctor was in sound health, because they found him unsound in his opinions.
The three surgeons took their departure, the eldest saying with a grim smile to Thompson, “It may correct some errors, and prepare you for next invaliding day. Shall I send you my book, ‘De Natura Pestium et Pestilentiarum?’”
The jolly doctor, with a smile equally grim, thanked him, and formally declined the gift, assuring him “that at the present time, the ship was well stocked with emetics.”
Now, the good doctor was a wag, and the captain, for fun, a very monkey. The aspirant for invaliding sat himself down again at one end of the table, as the captains did at the other. Wine, anchovies, sandwiches, oysters, and other light and stimulating viands were produced to make a relishing lunch. Captain Reud threw a triumphant and right merry glance across the table on the silent and discomfited doctor. The servant had placed before him a cover and glasses unbidden.
“Bring the doctor’s plate,” said the captain. The doctor was passive—the plate was brought, filled with luxuries, and placed directly under his nose. The temptation was terrible. He had been fasting and macerating himself for eight or nine days. He glared upon it with a gloomy longing. He then looked up wistfully, and a droll smile mantled across his vast face, and eddied in the holes of his deep pock-marks.
“A glass of wine, doctor?” The decanter was pushed before him, and his glass filled by the servant. The doctor shook his head and said, “I dare not, but will put it to my lips in courtesy.”
He did so, and when the glass reached the table it was empty. He then began gradually to unwind his huge woollen comforter, and when he thought himself unobserved, he stole the encumbrance into his ample coat-pocket. He next proceeded to toss about, with a careless abstraction, the large masses of cold fowl and ham in his plate, and, by some unimaginable process, without the use of his knife he contrived to separate them into edible pieces. They disappeared rapidly, and the plate was almost as soon empty as the wine-glass.
The green shade, by some unaccountable accident, now fell from his eyes, and, instead of again fixing it on, it found its way to the pocket, to keep company with the comforter. Near him stood a dish of delicious oysters, the which he silently coaxed towards his empty plate, and sent the contents furtively down his much wronged throat.
The other gentlemen watched these operations with mute delight; and, after a space, Captain Templar challenged him to a bumper, which was taken and swallowed without much squeamishness. The doctor found that he had still a difficult task to play; he knew that his artifice was discovered, and that the best way to repair the error was to boldly throw off the transparent disguise. The presence of the two stranger captains was still a restraint upon him. At length he cast his eyes upon Captain Reud, and putting into his countenance the drollest look of deprecation mingled with fun, said plaintively, “Are we friends, Captain Reud?”
“The best in the world, doctor,” was the quick reply, and he rose and extended his open hand. Doctor Thompson rose also and advanced to the head of the table, and they shook hands most heartily. The two other captains begged to do the same, and to congratulate him on his rapid convalescence.
“To prove to you, doctor, the estimation in which I hold you, you shall dine with us, and we’ll have a night of it,” said the skipper.
“Oh! Captain Reud, Captain Reud, consider—really I cannot get well so fast as that would indicate.”
“You must, you must. Gentlemen, no man makes better punch. Consider the punch, doctor.”
“Truly, that alters the case. As these dolts of surgeons could not fully understand the diagnostics of my disease, I suppose I must do my duty for theleetlewhile longer that I have to live. Iwilldo my duty, and attend you punctually at five o’clock, in order to see that there be no deleterious ingredients mingled in the punch.” Saying which he bowed and left the cabin, without leaning on the shoulder of either of his assistants.
But he had yet the worst ordeal to undergo—to brave the attack of his messmates—and he did it nobly. They were all assembled in the ward-room; for those that saw him descend, if not there before, went immediately and joined him. He waddled to the head of the table, and when seated, exclaimed in a stentorian voice, “Steward, a glass of half-and-half. Gentlemen, I presume you do not understand a medical case. Steward, bring my case of pistols and the cold meat. I say, you do not understand a medical case.”
“But we do yours,” interrupted two or three voices at once.
“No, you don’t; you may understand that case better,” shoving his long-barrelled Manton duellers on to the middle of the table. “Now, gentlemen—I do not mean to bully—I am only, God help me, a weak civil arm of the service,”—and whining a little—“still very far from well. Now I’ll state my case to you, for your satisfaction, and to prevent any little mistakes. I was lately afflicted with a sort of nondescript atrophy, a stagnation of the fluids, a congestion of the small blood-vessels, and a spasmodic contraction of the finitesimal nerves, that threatened very serious consequences. At the survey, two of the surgeons, ignorant quacks that they are, broached a most ridiculous opinion—a heterodox doctrine—a damnable heresy. On hearing it, my indignation was so much roused, that a reaction took place in my system, as instantaneous as the effects of a galvanic battery. My vital energies rallied, the stagnation of my fluids ceased, the small blood-vessels that had mutinied returned to their duty; and I am happy to say, that, though now far from enjoying good health, I am rapidly approaching it. That is my case. Now for yours. As, gentlemen, we are to be cooped up in this wooden enclosure for months, perhaps years, it is a duty that we owe to ourselves to promote the happiness of each other by good temper, politeness, mutual forbearance, and kindness. In none of these shall you find me wanting, and to prove it, I will say this much—singular cases will call forth singular remarks; you must be aware that if such be dwelt on too long, they will become offensive to me, and disturb that union which I am so anxious to promote. So let us have done with the subject at once—make all your remarks now—joke, quiz, jeer, and flaunt, just for one half hour,”—taking out his watch, and laying it gently on the table—“by that time I shall have finished my lunch, which, by-the-by, I began in the cabin; there will be sufficient time for you to say all your smart things on the occasion; but if after that I hear any more on the subject, by heavens, that man who shall dare to twit me with it, shall go with me to the nearest shore if in harbour—or shoot me, or I him, across the table at sea. Now, gentlemen, begin if you please.”
“The devil a word will I ever utter on the matter,” said Farmer, “and there’s my hand upon it.”
“Nor I.”
“Nor I.”
And every messmate shook him heartily by the hand, and by them the subject was dropped, and for ever. That evening Dr Thompson made the captain’s punch, having carefully locked up in his largest tea-chest his invaliding suit.
Whatever impression this anecdote may make on the reader, if it be one injurious to the doctor, we beg to tell him, that he proved a very blessing to the ship,—the kind friend, as well as the skilful and tender physician, the promoter of every social enjoyment, the soother of conflicting passions, the interceder for the offending, and the peace-maker for all.