"Salt Water" (continued 3)

“Remember, my lads, we shall have to give and take some hard blows; but sharp’s the word, and she’ll be ours before her people know what we are after,” exclaimed Hanks, in an inspiriting tone. It was an exciting moment. As we drew near, we could count some twelve men or more on her deck. We were by this time well over on the British half of the Channel.

“Keep her away a little, D’Arcy,” said Hanks. The smugglers had been watching us without apparently suspecting our intentions. “Now, hard up!—ease off the mainsheet!—hook on!—follow me, my lads!”

As Hanks uttered the last words we had run alongside. The next moment he leaped over the bulwarks of the lugger on to her deck, and grappling with her captain, a Frenchman, tripped him up. Jack at the same time knocked down the man at the helm with a boat’s stretcher. There was a mighty deal of jabbering and swearing in French, and some round oaths uttered in English, when, as Hanks was working his way forward, some of the crew, plucking courage, made a rush, and, seizing him, bore him overboard, fortunately on the larboard side, on the same which the wherry was: small thanks to the smugglers on that account. We were going through the water, it must be remembered, though not very quick. Hanks made a desperate attempt to clamber on board again by the lugger’s forechains, but missed his aim; then, giving a glance of defiance at the rascals, he kept himself afloat while he sung out, “Hillo, D’Arcy, lend me a hand here!”

Directly I saw what had happened I seized an oar, and thrust it out towards him. He grasped it as we passed by, and quickly clambered into the wherry. The moment after, with the stretcher, which he had never let out of his grasp, he was again on the lugger’s deck, belabouring both right and left those of the crew who still resisted. As none of the smugglers had seen him get out of the water, they were completely taken by surprise, and without striking another blow, sung out for quarter.

“You don’t deserve it, you blackguards, for daring to resist a king’s officer in the execution of his duty,” cried Hanks, flourishing his stretcher. “But, forward with you, there, and don’t move till I give you leave.” The Frenchmen did not understand him, but the English smugglers did, and his action showed what he desired. The crew were soon penned up in the fore part of the vessel, with the exception of the captain and the man Jack had knocked down, who were sitting on deck rubbing their eyes, hardly yet recovered. Scarcely three minutes had passed since we ran alongside, and the lugger was ours. I was still in the boat, waiting for orders.

“Come on board, D’Arcy,” said Hanks at length, looking over the side. “We’ll lower the wherry’s sails, and tow her astern.”

I gladly jumped out of her when we had stowed her canvas and made fast the painter. Our prize turned out to be a valuable one, for she had not only spirits, but silk and lace on board. Her papers clearly proved also that these goods were intended to be smuggled, so I remember Hanks saying; but how that was I did not trouble myself, nor do I to this day know. The smugglers, as well as they might, were certainly sulky; and Hanks, as a gentle hint for them to behave themselves, stationed a man with a double-barrelled pistol in his hand close to them, while they stood huddled together on the little forecastle. I took the helm, while the sails were trimmed and a course shaped for the Needles. In a short time a breeze sprang up, and we spanked along at a furious rate. The French skipper had now recovered, and getting on his legs, with a polite bow, expressed a hope, in tolerable English, that we would make ourselves at home on board his vessel.

“No fear of that, monsieur,” answered Hanks. “Cool, is he not, D’Arcy?”

“You no have taken dinner, sare,” continued the skipper. “I will tell de cook to make dinner ready.”

“Not a bad idea, monsieur,” said Hanks. “Which of you chaps is cook?”

The Frenchman pointed to the fellow whose head Jack had nearly broken. He spoke a few words to him, and the man—having got up and stretched himself to ascertain, I suppose, that no bones were broken—dived below, and presently returned with a white cap and apron, and several pans and dishes, and began busying himself in the mysteries of his art. Again he dived, the fire in the forepeak burned up brightly, and savory smells began to ascend therefrom. In about an hour the skipper, with another bow, invited us into his little well-like cabin aft, where a collation, such as an epicure might envy, was placed before us. What were its component parts I did not inquire. They may have been cats and frogs, but neither Hanks nor I were in any way particular, and no dreadful surmises crossed my mind. An Englishman would have broached a keg of brandy, but our friend, Monsieur Didot, placed a bottle of fine-flavoured claret and a variety of first-rate liqueurs before us, not that either Hanks or I was well able to appreciate the former.

“Come, monsieur, hand us out a bottle of some real stuff or other; I’m not fond of your pink vinegars,” exclaimed Hanks, as he tossed off a tumbler of the claret. “This isn’t bad for washing the dust out of a fellow’s throat on a hot day, but there’s no life-blood in it.”

The skipper, with a twinkle of his eyes which betokened mischief, though unfortunately Hanks did not perceive it, produced a large square bottle, thick at the top, from which he poured out a glass of first-rate Scheidam. Hanks smacked his lips as he tasted it.

“Take care, Neil, my child,” said he, “you don’t swallow much of that stuff; it’s too good. I’ll just smack at another glass, and then we’ll go on deck out of the way of temptation.”

The Frenchman looked mightily disappointed when he saw that Hanks was not so easily taken in as he doubtless expected he would be. I happened to look round as we left the cabin, and saw him shrugging his shoulders and making hideous grimaces, and no very complimentary gestures at us. Before this little incident I had thought him the pink of politeness. He wore love-locks and rings in his ears, and was dressed with the most accurate French nautical precision; in fact he looked thoroughly unlike an English seaman. In his manners he was a very mild man, and certainly he had nothing of the ruffian about him. I cannot say as much for his crew, some of whom were very ill-looking dogs. It would have been wiser in Hanks to have handcuffed them all, including the skipper and cook (though we should thereby have gone without a good dinner), and stationed a sentry with a loaded musket over them, with orders to shoot the first who should attempt to escape.

The French skipper, when he found that his plan to obfuscate the brains of the knowing old Hanks had totally failed, went and sat himself down forward among his people, apparently in a fit of the sulks.

Hanks, who was in high spirits at the success of our enterprise, walked the deck with me, looking out for the high land of the Isle of Wight above the Needle rocks, which we were approaching. The breeze had increased and kicked up a little sea, and we were running fast through the water.

“D’Arcy, my boy, this is a fine haul, isn’t it?” exclaimed my superior, rubbing his hands. “Credit and prize-money together. Both good things. When I was a youngster I thought something about the first; but now, do you see, Mrs Hanks and I have a fancy for t’other. It keeps the pot boiling, do ye see? I should think your uncle, by this time, was much of my way of thinking, though he’s a round number of years younger than I am.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” said I. “My uncle thinks a good deal of gaining honour, and I believe he’d rather take an enemy’s frigate after a hard-fought action, than capture a Spanish galleon without a blow.”

“Well, it’s the proper spirit,” said Hanks, with a sigh. “The revenue service don’t nourish it much, though. Take my advice; get out of it as soon as you can; or,” he continued with much feeling, “it will spoil you otherwise, depend on it.”

We continued walking the deck for some time longer. We then sat down to rest, watching the coast, from which we were about three miles distant.

Jack was at the helm, and the rest of our people were giving a hand to the sheets, as the wind had veered a little to the westward.

The smugglers were seemingly fast asleep, with the exception of the skipper, who had lighted a cigar to console himself under his mishap.

Chapter Ten.

The Tables Turned—Console Myself with the Fiddle—Set the Frenchmen Dancing—Captain Didot—My Place of Imprisonment—Escape—Greater Danger—Frighten my Friends.

Everything was going on as tranquilly as possible. Hanks was sweeping the horizon with his glass, looking out for the cutter, when suddenly, without the slightest warning, I saw the sentry’s pistol knocked out of his fist, and he himself hove headlong into the sea. Away flew the skipper’s cigar, and up he jumped as lively as a cricket, and, with two of his men, threw himself upon Hanks, who, taken unawares (his eyes engaged in his telescope), was bundled overboard. I tried to catch him by the leg, but his old blue trousers tore in my grasp, and a big Frenchman dealt me such a blow on the head that I was for an instant stunned.

When I came to my senses, I saw the wherry dropping astern, and the Frenchmen, with pump-handles and boat-hooks, striking at the poor fellows they had hove overboard, with the foul intent of drowning them. I observed that somebody was in the wherry, for her sails were being hoisted, and I was bolting aft for the purpose of jumping into the water and swimming to her, when the skipper caught me by the arm. “Stay, my little fellow,” he exclaimed; “we don’t want to hurt you, and don’t want witnesses to this work. You must go with us.”

While he was speaking, some of the smugglers had got hold of the muskets which our people had brought on board, and presenting them at the wherry, snapped the locks. Fortunately they were not loaded, or the priming had fallen out, and the villains were saved from the perpetration of further crimes.

The men in the water swam towards the wherry, and I judged from her movements that those in her were engaged in picking them up. I sang out and struggled in vain; but the Frenchman held me fast, and finally, to save himself further trouble, lifted me up by the collar and shoved me down the companion-hatch into the cabin, closing the slide over me. There was I, like a mouse caught in a trap. At first I burst into a fit of tears, more from rage and indignation at being outwitted and surprised by the Frenchman than from the prospect in store for me, which was not, however, very pleasant. I might expect to be kept a prisoner in some out-of-the-way place in France, or perhaps, to be shipped to the other side of the globe and to be unable to return home for years to come. I made ineffectual attempts to get on deck to see what had become of Hanks and our men; but as I could not move the slide, I was obliged to sit down quietly in the cabin. My melting mood was soon over. “Better now,” thought I to myself. “I won’t let these big blackguards of Frenchmen see me down-hearted, any how. For the honour of old Ireland and the name of D’Arcy, I’ll put a bold face on the matter,” and I began to sing.

There was a row on deck, and a great deal of jabbering; and the little vessel heeled over to the breeze; but I had no means of discovering what was taking place, nor where we were going.

The only light let into the vessel was through a bulls-eye in the deck, so that at first I thought I was shut up in darkness. As, however, my sight got accustomed to the glimmer, I discovered a fiddle and bow hung up against the bulkhead.

“Come,” thought I, “I’ll show the froggies that, though they may shut me up, they can’t damp my spirits in a hurry,” and seizing the instrument, I struck up an Irish jig. It was the most jolly tune I could recollect, and seldom failed to move the heels of all who heard it. I played away for some time without any notice being taken of my music; then I heard one fellow begin to shuffle away overhead, and then another, and presently it appeared as if the whole crew were toeing and heeling it in fine style. Then there were loud fits of laughter; and afterwards the slide was withdrawn and the skipper descended into the cabin.

“Vell, you are, bon garçon, one merry fellow,” he said, laughing. “You make good use of my violin.”

“I am fond of music, and play when I can,” I answered in an indifferent tone; “but I’m tired now, and intend to go to sleep.”

“Well, but I have come to take you on deck to play to my people,” said he. “They are pleased with you, and it will be better for you if you do.”

“What! you ask me to play for the amusement of the men who have been ill-treating my shipmates, and murdering them, for what I know to the contrary,” I answered, indignantly. “No! I played for my own amusement, and do not intend to play any more.”

“Your shipmates attacked us first; and besides, my little man, we have not murdered them, or done them much harm either, except depriving them of your company, and of a few muskets and pistols,” he answered. “Take my advice: be as obliging as you can; they will be civil to you in return.”

“Well, monsieur, I believe you are right,” I replied. “If they really have not hurt my brother officer and our men, I will fiddle for them as long as they like.”

Saying this, I followed him on deck, where I seated myself on the companion-hatch; and as I played away, in spite of the tumbling of the little vessel in the heavy sea running, all the Frenchmen, including Monsieur Didot, kept skipping, and jumping, and whirling about, hugging each other like bears, and shouting with glee at having saved their cargo from the clutches of the revenue people. We were standing, close-hauled, towards the French coast. I looked anxiously for the wherry, for I thought Hanks would have followed; but she was nowhere in sight. One of the Englishmen was at the helm, and the other two were forward. They were sulky brutes, and seemed much more bitter against me than were the Frenchmen. Whenever I ceased playing, the skipper gave me a hint to go on again; and there sat I, one of His Majesty’s officers, scraping away on an old Cremona for the amusement of a set of smugglers and outlaws. The scene struck me as so ludicrous that I burst into a loud fit of laughter till the tears began to stream down my cheeks. I fiddled all the faster, till the delight of the Frenchmen knew no bounds; and as a proof of their regard, some of them came up and actually almost hugged the breath out of my body, calling me a brave garçon, a jolly garçon and an ornament to my country. This fun continued till we made the land, about dark. Some time afterwards, I found that we were running into a small harbour, with a pier on one side and a lighthouse on it. Its name I could not learn; but I supposed it was somewhere to the eastward of Cherbourg. I was trying to make out the look of the place, when the captain, touching me on the shoulder, said, “Go down below, my boy; when I want you I will come for you.” There was that in his tone which showed me that it would be useless to dispute his orders; so I returned to the cabin. Finding a berth with some bed-clothes in it, I crept in, and coiling myself away, was soon, fast asleep. I was awoke after some time by the skipper’s voice. He was holding up a lantern, and looking round, seemingly much surprised at not seeing me. He laughed as I poked my head out of my crib.

“Ah, mon petit, you make yourself at home wherever you go,” he exclaimed. “But get up; you must come with me, and I will find a worthy lady who will take good care of you for some time to come.”

I answered that I was very much obliged to him, but that I wanted to return home as soon as possible.

“Ah, that cannot be,” said he, in a quiet tone. “I am sorry to inconvenience you; but you will allow that it is better to be kept a prisoner than to have been thrown overboard as food for the fish.”

“Much obliged to you, monsieur,” I replied. “I cannot dispute your reasoning; so just be good enough to tell me what you want me to do.”

“To get up and come with me,” said he; “and listen, my young friend,—if you attempt to run away, I will simply blow your brains out. I don’t wish you any harm, as I have proved; but necessity compels me to be explicit.”

I did not know whether or not he was in earnest; but as it is dangerous to trifle with a man who has the power to put so unpleasant a threat in execution, I thought it wisest to obey him. I accordingly followed him on deck, when he took my hand and led me along a plank which was thrown from the vessel to the shore. We walked through the narrow street of a village odoriferous of fish, and then out into the country, which in agreeable contrast smelt of fresh grass and flowers. Proceeding along a road which, by looking at the stars overhead, I judged ran inland, we reached a farm-house, standing a little back from the road. The smuggler knocked with his fist at the floor, but no one answered, nor was any light seen through the windows. We waited some further time without receiving any answer to our summons.

“Morbleu! I forgot the hour; they have all gone to bed. I must knock again,” said he, giving several thundering blows on the door.

At length a female voice asked who was there.

“It is Captain Didot and a friend; open quick, good Madeleine,” he said in French. “We are tired and hungry and sleepy, and wish to be inside instead of outside your door.”

“Ah! it is you, Monsieur Didot, I know full well,” answered the voice. “I will let you in.”

We were, however, kept some time longer, and at last the door opened, and a young woman made her appearance, dressed in a high white cap and short petticoats, dark woollen stockings, and wooden shoes, but very neat and trim. I had never before seen a woman in so odd a rig. She smiled a welcome to my companion, and shutting the door behind us, a good deal of talking took place; but though I could manage to make out Captain Didot’s French, I did not understand a word she said. We then went into a nice clean parlour, with a red-brick floor, and sat down and talked again. Suddenly, up jumped the lady in the high cap, and after an absence of ten minutes or so, returned with a tray covered with eatables and drinkables. I instinctively drew my chair to the table at the sight without waiting to be bid, whereat our hostess smiled, and observed that the pauvre enfant was hungry. Captain Didot took the hint and helped me; nor did he forget himself; and setting to work, we made a very capital supper.

“I must now be off,” observed Monsieur Didot, as he came to an anchor; “but before I go, I must give you a caution, Monsieur Englishman. You are not to make your appearance outside these garden walls for the next fortnight. If you attempt to get away, ill-will come of it. Remember that madame here will take care of you, and you may have as much fruit to eat and wine to drink as you like; and now, good night, my friend. You hear, do you not?”

I did hear; but I was so very sleepy that I could not recollect enough French to answer him. While he continued talking to madame, I dropped off asleep in my chair, and for long in my dreams I heard the buzz of their voices. When I was at last awoke, by feeling a hand placed on my shoulder, the smuggling captain was gone.

“Come,” said the good-natured woman; “you want rest, my boy;” and taking a candle, she led me into a neat little room with a comfortable bed in it, where I very soon forgot myself in slumber.

The next morning, when I turned out, I found that I was an occupant of a comfortable farm-house, with a garden attached, full of fruit-trees and vegetables. An old man and his wife made their appearance, and I discovered that the young woman who had received us the previous night was their daughter. While we were at breakfast, I heard the old couple complaining of Captain Didot for having brought me there. They evidently fancied that I did not understand French.

“He will be getting us into trouble with his tricks, one of these days,” remarked the old lady. “Ah! Madeleine, my daughter, it would be much wiser in you to have nothing more to say to him.”

Mademoiselle looked very glum, as if she did not like the counsel. I pretended to be deeply absorbed, discussing the fresh eggs and other eatables placed before me.

“Ha, ha!” thought I to myself; “I see how the wind blows. They will not dare, then, to keep me a prisoner longer than I like to stay. Well, I’m very comfortable here at present; so I will spend a day or so with the good people.”

I saw that I was narrowly watched wherever I went; but I did not forget the French skipper’s advice to take advantage of the fine fruit with which the garden abounded. When Madeleine saw that I was apparently contented, we became very good friends; and I must own that I spent the day not unpleasantly. I began, however, to reflect that I had no business to remain where I was if I had the power of getting away; so I turned in my mind how I could best make my escape. I guessed that to do so would not be quite so easy as at first appeared; for I had observed a labourer continually near me, and I remarked that whenever I went to a distant part of the garden his occupation invariably took him in the same direction.

“Somehow or other I must manage to make a run for it,” thought I to myself; but when I came to examine the locality, I found that the garden was surrounded with fields and ditches; and though I might swim across the latter, I should certainly have been caught and made very uncomfortable and dirty into the bargain. I therefore gave up that idea, and amused myself in the best way I could. I helped Mademoiselle Madeleine in her poultry-yard and dairy, looked in on the old lady employed in her culinary affairs, walked over the farm with the old man, and chatted in my somewhat unintelligible French, with every one I met. Happening to go into my own room in the evening, I found the window open, and looking out, I saw that the height from the sill to the ground was not more than from twelve to fifteen feet.

“Ho, ho!” thought I; “it will be a foolish bird which can’t get out of a cage like this; but I will bide my time.” I hurried away, and ran downstairs, where I was soon after summoned to supper. I made myself quite at home, and did not fail to do justice to the meal. The household went to rest early, and as soon as I fancied every one was asleep I got up from my bed, where I had thrown myself, and reconnoitred the ground. To avoid the risk of laming myself by a jump, I tied my sheets together, and secured them to the leg of a table, which I managed to jam between the shutter and the wall so as to prevent its slipping; and placing my hat tightly on my head, and buttoning up my coat, I let myself quietly down to the ground. I was afraid of awakening some one in the house should I run, as I felt inclined to do; so I crept softly away, till I had got to some distance, and then took to my heels, as fast as I could go, in the direction of the town or fishing village where I had landed. After going for some distance, I thought that I must have missed my way; but the murmur of the water on the beach assured me that I had taken the right direction. At last I found myself among some straggling cottages, my nose helping me to find the locality I was in search of. My first care was to look out for the lugger, to avoid her. Much to my satisfaction, she was not there, neither was any one moving on the quay; so I walked about till I found a shed somewhat less odorous than its neighbours, where I determined to take up my abode till daylight. Here I quickly made myself a nest with some ropes and spars—albeit not a very soft one,—and fell fast asleep. Having the necessity of being alert on my mind, I awoke just as dawn was breaking, and, jumping up, I ran down to the quay. The flapping of a sail told me that some one was astir, and, looking round, I saw at the end of the quay a cutter preparing to get under weigh.

“Cutter ahoy!” I sung out, running the chance of anybody understanding me. “Where are you bound for?”

“Hillo; who are you?” asked a voice in English.

“I want a cast across the Channel,” I answered.

“Well, come aboard, and we’ll see what we can do for you,” said the same speaker.

I accordingly ran along the quay, and jumped on the cutter’s deck just as her last warp was cast off. I had a rough Flushing coat buttoned up close round me; and as I had on also a low tarpaulin hat, I thought I looked the character I wished to assume. The people on board were likewise too busy to afford me more than a passing glance as I sprung on deck. A rough, weather-beaten old fellow, with one eye, who, from the orders he issued, I knew to be the master, stood at the helm. His crew consisted of seven hands—strong, active-looking fellows,—many more than the craft required to work her. This circumstance at once made me suspect that she was not over honest.

“Faith,” thought I to myself, “this isn’t the best place in the world for a revenue officer to find himself in.”

But it was now too late to get oh shore again. The headsheets were let draw, the main eased off a little, the peak hoisted up, and, with a fair breeze, the cutter glided out of the harbour.

“Well, youngster, you were not long in making up your mind about coming,” said the old skipper, scrutinising me, I thought, pretty narrowly from head to foot. “What place are you bound for, eh?”

I told him Ryde, in the Isle of Wight.

“Well, we’ll put you ashore at the back of the Wight; I suppose that will do for you?” he answered, in a good-natured tone.

I thanked him for his offer; and we went on talking very amicably for some time, till we had run some fifteen miles from the coast. I think, from the first, the old man had some suspicions of me; but I had acted my part well, and I fancied that I had succeeded in lulling them.

Just as I thought all was right, as ill-luck would have it, I happened to want to use my pocket-handkerchief, and in searching for it I incautiously threw open my jacket and exposed my uniform buttons to view.

In the first place, the sort of boy I pretended to be would not have possessed such an article as a pocket-handkerchief; and I ought to have remembered that the sight of the crown and anchor would not be acceptable to persons of my friends’ vocation.

“Why—hullo, youngster! who are you, I should like to know?” exclaimed the old skipper, seizing me by the arm, and giving me no gentle shake.

“He’s a spy, surely, and no mistake,” cried several of the crew. “Heave the young shrimp overboard.”

“Overboard with him!” exclaimed the rest in chorus. “We’ll teach the Government to send their whelps to hunt us out in this fashion.”

I own that I began to feel very uncomfortable; for the threatening looks of the fellows were in no way calculated to lessen my apprehensions. Now my feelings always prompt me to try and escape from a dilemma by at once candidly confessing the truth. I therefore acknowledged that I belonged to a revenue cutter, and explained what had occurred.

“I only obeyed the orders of my superior officers in attacking the lugger,” I observed, in as bold a tone as I could manage to muster. “Her people carried me off against my will; and, as I wanted to get home, I came aboard you; but I never thought of doing you or any of your friends harm, if I could help it. How am I to blame, then?”

“Never listen to his chaff; heave him overboard, I say,” growled out one of the men.

“Thank you all the same, master,” said I, looking him as boldly as I could in the face; “but I’d rather stay aboard till I can get put decently on shore, and not have to swim there, as you would have me do.”

“Swim! By God, you wouldn’t swim long, I expect,” said the ruffian.

“Faith, I’ve no fancy for trying, either,” I answered. “If I intended treachery, do you think, masters, I should have put myself in your power as I have done? just answer me that.”

“Well, now, I don’t think as how you would,” exclaimed the old skipper. “You’re a brave lad anyhow, and deserve a better calling than trying to injure poor fellows who are just doing their best to make a honest livelihood for their families.”

“Well,” said I, seeing the favourable impression I was making, “I’m going soon to be appointed to a frigate on a foreign station, so there’s little chance of my falling in with you again. If you kill me you will be hung, that’s certain, for murder is always out some day or other.”

“Don’t be coming any of your Irish blarney over us,” growled out a sour-looking ruffian. “If you’re a spy, overboard you go, that’s all.”

“I’m no spy,” I answered in an indignant tone. “All I ask of you is to put me on shore anywhere at the back of the Wight, and I’ll give you my word none of you will be the worse for my being here.”

The skipper gave an approving nod as I pleaded for my life. Some of the ruffians seemed to give way.

“Just tell me, then, what harm can a small chap like me do you?” I continued. “How do I know what you’ve got on board, or what you’re going to do with it. Be good-natured fellows now, and if I can ever do you a good turn, I will.”

“Oh, come, let the little chap alone; there’s no harm in him, I’m sure!” exclaimed one of the smugglers, slapping me on the shoulder. “Cheer up, my lad; we’ll do you no harm.”

The others soon came round, and shaking me by the hand, declared that I was a brave little cock, and they only wished I was one of them.

A coarse but plentiful dinner was soon afterwards placed on the deck, the chief part of it appearing in a square iron pot, round which we sat as merry as crickets; and there was I hob-nobbing with a band of smugglers as if we were the best friends in the world.

Towards evening we made the land, no cutter being in sight. I had a sovereign and a few shillings in my pocket, which I offered the old skipper, but he would receive nothing; and, as good as his word, as soon as it was dark, he ran in and put me on shore not far from Shanklin. As there was some sea on the beach, all hands got not a little wet, but they took it in good part, and wished me a hearty good-bye as I set off to clamber up the cliffs. I at length found a path which took me into the high road; as soon as I reached it I began to make the best of my way towards Ryde. My legs ached, but I ran and walked as fast as I could. I had not proceeded far when I heard the sound of wheels coming along the road. A cart soon overtook me.

“Is this the road to Ryde?” I asked.

“Yes, it be,” said the driver. “Be you going there?”

“If I can manage to get as far,” I answered.

“Well, if you be tired, jump in, and I’ll gie ye a lift; I be going most of the way,” replied the good Samaritan. I obeyed with alacrity, and took my seat by his side. He was one of the substantial farmers who abound in the island. I gave him an account of my adventures, at which he was much amused; nor did he seem to have any very great antipathy to my smuggling friends.

“Lord bless ’e! they wouldn’t have hurt your little fingers,” he remarked, when I told him how the crew of the cutter had threatened my life. He would not part from me till he had deposited me at the gates of Daisy Cottage. The lights were shining through the drawing-room windows. My aunt was sitting working, and sweet Alice Marlow had a book before her. They both looked very sad, I thought. I tapped at the window, which opened to the ground, to call their attention, and grinned a “How-d’ye-do” through the glass. No sooner did Alice see my face, than letting her book fall, she gave a loud scream, as if she had seen a spectre.

“Hillo! what’s the matter?” I exclaimed, shaking the handle of the window. “Let me in, aunt, please; I’m not a thief or a ghost, on my word.” My aunt, more courageous than the little girl, had risen from her seat, and my voice assuring her of my identity, she opened the door, and I very soon convinced her and Alice that I was a living being by kissing them both, and then devouring every scrap of supper she set before me. I found that, from Hanks’ report, they had been led to believe that the Frenchmen had knocked me on the head; and were mourning for me accordingly. My aunt was, I verily believe, employed in making a black gown to put on for my sake. My uncle had sailed again to look after the lugger, so that I was able to enjoy the height of a midshipman’s felicity, a holiday on shore. Three days afterwards the Serpent came back, having re-captured the lugger and two hundred tubs. I saw Captain Didot, who was very angry at finding that I had escaped, and vowed he would pay me off in a different coin, if he ever caught me again. I told him he might, if he ever did.

Chapter Eleven.

Hanks and my Ghost—Hanks’ Learning—Myers again—Escapes once more—Appointed to a Frigate—Prepare for Sea—My Shipmates—Sail from England—Messrs Trundle and Chissel—Dicky Sharpe and a Tale of a Beef-Bone.

On reaching Portsmouth, I took a boat and pulled off to the cutter, which was lying out in the middle of the harbour. Hanks was walking the deck as I came alongside, but something having attracted his attention in the direction of Gosport, he did not observe me. Handing the boatman a shilling, I jumped on board unnoticed, and just as Hanks turned round, I stood before him, with my hand out ready to grasp his. For an instant the colour forsook his cheeks, and he stared at me without speaking, rolling his eyes round as if he saw my wraith.

“Why, Hanks, old fellow! don’t you know me?” I exclaimed, bursting into a loud laugh at his extraordinary way of receiving me. My voice convinced him that it was not my ghost which was offering to shake hands with him.

“What, D’Arcy, my boy! is it you, indeed, come back to us after all?” he cried, seizing both my hands in his own well-hardened paws. “I’m glad to see you, that I am, lad; we thought those scoundrel smugglers had done for you. It would have been just like them, to kill the smallest of the lot. But how did you escape? Come, tell us all about it. We’ve had another brush with that rascal Myers: we are certain it was him. He had the daring to fire into us; killed one of our people, poor Tom Darling, and wounded two, getting off into the bargain. But we will be even with him before long, and when we do catch him, we’ll pay him off, that’s all. Well I’m glad you escaped, that I am; but come below, and let us hear the whole story.”

In this way the kind-hearted fellow ran on. Having been welcomed by Growl, Scriven, and the rest of my shipmates, I went to report myself to my uncle, who was in his cabin. He seemed truly glad to find that I had not become food for fishes, though he did not exhibit his pleasure exactly in the same way Hanks had done. When I was dismissed by him, I dived down into our berth, and there, over a glass of his too-favourite beverage, old Hanks listened to an account of my adventures. “It was the Cremona did it, after all!” he exclaimed, slapping my shoulder. “I told you it would stand you in good stead. Stick to it, my lad, and you’ll become as great a man as that old chap Orpheus, I’ve heard tell of, who made the beasts jig when he fiddled. Who the gentleman was, I can’t say, except that he was one of Julius Caesar’s generals, wasn’t he?”

I must observe that Hanks’ knowledge of history, both ancient and modern, was somewhat limited and confused; indeed he was impressed with a notion that Julius Caesar, for whom he had a high respect, came over to England somewhere in the last century, and having taken possession of the country, was in his turn thrashed by William the Conqueror. Of all subsequent events till the time of Nelson, he professed total ignorance.

“Ah, Nelson was the chap who made the English!” he used to exclaim in triumph; “and as for Nap, whom they talk so much about, what was he to him, I should like to know. Why, the little Frenchman couldn’t put a ship about in a steady breeze, I’ll warrant; and as for handling her in a gale, I doubt if he could have done it even if his crown depended on it.”

Hanks had no very great respect for science either.

“What do I care for your algebra and your trigonometry?” he one day observed. “I take my John Norie and my Gunter’s Scale, and I work out my day’s work as well as any man; and what more should I want to know, tell me? Your mathematicians are all humbugs in my opinion, and that’s a fact.”

I mention these little traits in Hanks’ character, because I shall now have to bid him farewell for a season. He was a worthy fellow, nevertheless; not without sense of a practical sort; a curious specimen of a school now rapidly becoming obsolete.

Soon after this we were once more on our old cruising ground, to the westward. We had been a week or more knocking about, when it came on to blow very hard from the south-west. My uncle was not a man to be frightened by a capful of wind; so, getting our storm-sails, we stood off shore, and faced the gale like men; for this was just the weather smugglers would choose to run across Channel, when they think no one will be on the look-out for them. Towards evening, however, it came on to blow harder than before; so that at last we were obliged to up-helm and run for shelter into harbour; but just as we were bearing up, a sea struck the cutter, carried away our stern-boat, and stove in one of those on our quarter. In this squall the wind seemed to have worn itself out; for before we had made the land it suddenly fell, and by daylight a dead calm came on, followed by a dense fog. When it cleared somewhat, we found close to us another revenue cutter. Her commander, Lieutenant Simmons, came on board and told my uncle that he had been directed to cruise in search of the Kitty lugger, commanded by the notorious smuggler Bill Myers. “He has been adding wholesale murder to his other performances,” observed the lieutenant. Two weeks ago, a boat from the Hawk cutter fell in with him at night. He gave her the stem and cut her in two. Three of her crew climbed up the lugger’s bows, but were instantly knocked on the head and hove overboard. The rest were drowned, with the exception of one who clung to the wreck and was picked up by the cutter the next morning. This account made us more eager than ever to catch Myers. Another cruiser was sent down to assist us in our search; but, though for several weeks we kept a sharp look-out after him, he managed to escape us; and neither he nor the Kitty was again heard of on that coast. I was destined, however, to fall in with him again in another clime.

We were not sorry to get back to Portsmouth after all this knocking about. The first person I met on going on shore was Larry Harrigan. He had seen the cutter coming in, and had hurried down to the Point to meet me.

“Oh, Master Neil, I’ve good news for you,” he exclaimed, as I jumped out of the boat and found myself in his arms, for he still looked on me as the baby he had so carefully watched over. “You are no longer to be kept in that tub-hunting service, saving his honour your uncle’s pardon; but you are to go to sea in reality, in a fine, smart frigate, which won’t be letting the grass grow under her keel, I’ll warrant.”

“That’s good news, indeed, Larry; where did you learn it?” I asked.

“From no less a man than the Captain himself, and that’s good authority, you’ll allow,” he answered, in a tone of no little satisfaction. “He’s a friend of your honoured grandfather’s, and was a midshipman and lieutenant on board two ships I served in. He has been lodging in my house for some months back; and when he heard who you were and who had brought you up and given you your sea-learning, says he, ‘Larry, you’ve made a seaman of him, that I’ll answer for. The lad shall go along with me when I get a ship, for his grandfather’s sake and yours too, old friend.’ Those were his last words, Master Neil, they were indeed; and he’s kept his promise, as I knew he would.”

This very satisfactory information Larry communicated on our way to Southsea. It was confirmed soon afterwards by my uncle, who followed me up to Larry’s house. He, as I suspected, had also made an application in my favour, and had just received a letter from Captain Poynder—which was, I found, my future commander’s name,—desiring me forthwith to join his ship, the Harold, which was, however, still in the hands of the dockyard people. Though I would rather have gone afloat at once, this was, I found, a great advantage, as I had thus an opportunity of seeing her masted, rigged, and fitted for sea. Officers are often glad to shirk this, for it is far from pleasant work, and Portsmouth is not the most delectable of residences. I should advise all midshipmen not to miss an opportunity of seeing a ship fitted out, if they possibly can. They will find it will save them an immense deal of after trouble, and prove the quickest way of gaining a knowledge of their future home. Meantime Larry was as busy as a bee in getting my kit in order, aided by his better half; and few midshipmen ever obtained so good an insight at so cheap a rate. I got leave to run over to Ryde for a couple of days to wish my aunt and young cousins good-bye. I asked after Alice Marlow. I was in hopes of hearing that she was coming back to Ryde, that I might see her before I sailed. I blushed as I mentioned her name, and had a curious palpitation about the region of the heart. My aunt smiled as she replied, “I am afraid, Neil, that I shall not be able to get my young friend to come here again for a long time. Mr Marlow writes me word that he proposes going abroad and taking her with him. But cheer up; she will return here some day, I hope; and when you came back from one of your voyages, you will find her with us, perhaps. I should be, indeed, very sorry if I did not expect to see the dear little girl again.”

My aunt was the kindest creature alive; and I was very certain that she regretted that Alice was not there to bid me farewell. I wished her and my cousins good-bye. They all cried a little, and so, in truth, did I; for they were the only creatures I had to love in the world. I, however, quite recovered my spirits before I got half-way across to Portsmouth. My uncle came several times on board the frigate, and, had I been his own son, he could not have taken more interest in me than he did. As for Larry Harrigan, he was on board every day, and all day long, following me about to show me how everything was done, and why it was done. The first-lieutenant was a very worthy, kind man; and as soon as he had heard Larry’s history, he used to talk to him and encourage him to come on board. Greatly to Larry’s delight, he gave me leave to spend an evening sometimes at his house, and very pleasant evenings they were. The officers now began to join fast. Lieutenants, mates, and midshipmen were every day arriving. We soon had our full complement of men, and having got clear of the dockyard people, were ready to go out to Spithead.

I was now to turn over a new page in the history of my career. Although I had gained a considerable amount of nautical knowledge, my experience of life was somewhat limited; but henceforth it was to be enlarged and extended, I trusted, over the greater part of the surface of the globe. For the present, the lands of the myrtle and vine were to be our destination—the shores of the Mediterranean; and the man must indeed be difficult to satisfy who is not pleased with their varied and glowing beauties. Our gallant ship; our berth, so long our home; my messmates, as well as our superior officers and men, merit description. I will touch on each of them in their turn. First I will speak of our berth, which was in truth somewhat different to the abodes of the naval heroes of Great Britain of the rank of midshipmen, with which the public are familiar. Few, perhaps, are like it, though after we had been a year or two at sea it had sadly been shorn of its glory. Its brilliancy had departed, and its polish was no more. We happened to have a caterer, who liked to have everything very natty about him, and who had accordingly taken on himself to spend a few pounds in having our berth neatly done up. The bulkheads were painted of a salmon colour; there was a gilt and blue moulding; a neat oilcloth over the table and lockers; and at one end a buffet filled with plated dish-covers and dishes, tumblers and wine-glasses, forks and spoons, and China teacups; while two swing-lamps hung from the deck above. It afforded a contrast, certainly, to the times of the old school, when a purser’s dip was stuck in a black bottle, and battered tin cups served alternately for grog and tea and soup; but though the language of the occupants of our berth was somewhat more refined, and our opinions more liberal, I will venture to say that the spirit to will and to do deeds of daring burnt not the less brightly in our bosoms than in those of midshipmen of former times. While I was at Ryde the ship’s company moved out of the old Topaze, alongside of which we were lashed, into the frigate; and the day after several mates and midshipmen, with somewhat aristocratic pretensions, joined us. I got a hint, when I came back from Ryde, that they were rather inclined to look down upon me as having been a cutter’s midshipman.

“They shan’t cut me, at all events,” said I to myself. So as soon as I got on board I went below, and taking the fiddle old Hanks had given me, I sat myself down on my chest, and began playing away with all my might a merry Irish jig.

“Hillo; who is the jolly fellow out there?” asked one of the new mates from the berth.

“Oh, that’s the Irish midshipman, D’Arcy,” answered Onslow, a mate who had sometime joined. “Give us another tune, Paddy, that’s a good boy.”

On this I forthwith struck up “Saint Patrick’s Day in the Morning,” and half a dozen other Irish airs.

“If no one objects, I’ll sing, too, mates,” said I, when I had played out my tunes.

Without waiting for an answer, I locked up my fiddle, and taking my seat at one end of the berth, I trolled out, with a very fair voice, several songs which used to delight old Hanks and my other shipmates in the cutter. The effect was evidently good. I showed my wish to please; and though afterwards a few attempts were made to snub me, I took them all in good humour, as if they were intended as jokes, and finally established myself as a favourite with the mess, and I may, I believe, honestly say, with nearly everybody on board.

As soon as possible we went out to Spithead, and joined a large squadron under command of Sir Peppery Portfire. We mustered altogether some eighteen sail of vessels or more, and a very warlike appearance we made. We were bound, we knew, for the Mediterranean; and we all looked forward with no little satisfaction to our visit to that most favourite of stations.

Our powder was next taken on board, with a further supply of stores, and more midshipmen. Among the latter, who should climb up the side but my quondam friend Dicky Sharpe. He did not see me, as I was aloft at the time, and before I came on deck, he and his traps had gone below. When my watch on deck was over, I descended to our berth, where I found him busily employed in cramming his new messmates, and endeavouring to raise himself to a high position in their estimation.

“You see, my good fellows, it isn’t everybody has got a Minister for a cousin, and a Lord of the Admiralty for an uncle,” he remarked in a consequential tone, as I got to the door of the berth.

“And I don’t think you have either, Dicky, my boy,” said I, laughing. “But I am very glad to see you, notwithstanding; but don’t be after bamboozling us jolly greens now.”

At first he attempted to look very indignant at the attack made on his veracity; but no sooner did he recognise me than his good feelings got the better of his love of trying to make himself of importance; and jumping up, he seized my hand and wrung it warmly.

“Why, D’Arcy, is it you yourself, indeed?” he exclaimed. “I am delighted to find you here, I am indeed. Why, messmates, if it hadn’t been for D’Arcy I should have been food for fishes; I should, on my word. Think what a loss the service would have had.”

A loud laugh from all hands followed this remark, though I verily believe Dicky spoke in all gravity; but the fact that I had been the means of saving his life thus came out. It raised me, I had afterwards reason to know, in the good opinion of all on board; and Dicky himself gained many friends by the feeling way in which he spoke of it. I was very soon seated alongside him in the berth, and our tongues were rattling away as fast as they could wag.

Dicky’s propensity to brag, amusing as it was to others, was continually getting him into scrapes. We had an old mate, Adam Stallman by name, who was proportionably as tall, grave, and silent, as Dicky was little, merry, and loquacious.

One day Dicky having thrown a biscuit at me, which, unfortunately, hit Adam’s nose, the latter looked at him sternly.

“Sharpe, you are small,” he exclaimed; “but cobbing was invented to make midshipmen grow, and I intend to make you grow.”

“Then, faith, Stallman, I suspect your mother began cobbing you as soon as you were born,” answered the undaunted Dicky.

Adam’s hands had been busy under the table with his handkerchief; now, suddenly leaning forward, he grasped Dicky by the crop of the neck, and before he had time to expostulate, he had him in such a position that he could apply with the greatest effect the instrument of torture he had manufactured. As all the oldsters sided with Adam, the youngsters dared not interfere; and poor Dicky was held in that undignified position while other handkerchiefs were knotted, and before he was cast loose he received a cobbing which made him treat ever afterwards all the oldsters with abundant respect. But Dicky, if he did not forget, did what was as wise, he forgave; and I do not think he nourished the slightest ill-will against his cobbers.

Of Captain Poynder I have spoken. He was a worthy man and a good officer; and if he had a fault, it was not being sufficiently strict.

Then comes Johnny Du Pre, our gallant First. I have still an affectionate regard for Johnny, though many an hour have I spent at our masthead at his instigation; while Dicky, promoted by the like authority, was taking sights at me from another. We were sent there not without cause, I own, and still the amount of moral turpitude which gained us that elevated distinction was not such as to make me blush as I think of it, or to make me anxious to conceal it from the public. Neither as a first-lieutenant nor as a man was Lieutenant Du Pre perfect; but who is there with whom one cannot find a fault. He was kind-hearted, a fair seaman, and anxious to do his duty.

But our second lieutenant, Basil Vernon, was still more worthy of notice. Refined and elegant both in person and manners, he appeared, at first sight, to be what is called a fine gentleman; but kind-hearted, brave, and generous almost to a fault, a first-rate seaman and officer, a better fellow never stepped, nor one more beloved by all classes afloat, as well as by all who knew him on shore. I soon became very much attached to him, and would have gone round the world to do him a service. Many times did he save me from punishment when I specially deserved it. He was indeed very far from being one of those fine fellows whom no ordinary mortals can approach; for he had a heart tender as a woman’s, and he would as readily sympathise with the grief of the smallest middy, as with the sorrow or suffering of the roughest tar on board. He was a sincere Christian too, and, what was more, was not ashamed of his Christianity. He exhibited his principles in his practice—in the daily duties of life,—till he taught the most profane and profligate to respect him, if not to adopt them. I wish there were more Basil Vernons in the service. Thank Heaven! there are some shining lights to lighten us in our darkness—leaven, which gradually, though slowly, may, by God’s providence, leaven the whole mass.

Our third lieutenant, Hugh Summers, wrote poetry, talked sentiment, and dreamed dreams, and required a flapper to remind him when to put the ship about at times; but when once aroused into action, he was as energetic as any one, and had plenty of resources on an emergency.

The master, surgeon, and purser, were also very good fellows in their way, and if not shining ornaments, were no disgrace to His Majesty’s service.

At last the pay-clerks came on board, and paid the ship’s company. A fine bright morning saw the signal flying from the admiral’s ship for the fleet to weigh and work out to Saint Helen’s. There was a nice working breeze, a blue sky, and the water just rippled enough to reflect with more dazzling splendour the rays of the glorious sun, as he shed them almost along the path we were to pursue. It was, in truth, a beautiful sight; and considering the number of ships—some eighteen sail or more, all beating out together within so narrow a channel,—it was surprising that much damage was not done, especially when it is remembered that the crews of half the ships had never been to sea before, and that the ropes were stiff and new, and did not work well. One ship, I believe, carried away her flying jib-boom against the stern of another; and with that slight loss, and a small expenditure of abuse from the respective crews, who thought each other to blame, we reached Saint Helen’s. The next day we were fairly off to sea; the fleet formed in two lines, the White and the Blue Squadrons, which Sir Peppery manoeuvred with much skill, to the no small trouble of the signal midshipmen. The second day, Ned Lenny, the young gentleman on board the Harold who held that office, vowed he must leave the service and go into the Dragoons, if it was to be carried on in that way; though the following morning he thought better of it. He gained, however, the sobriquet of the Heavy, which, as he was a cocksparrow of a fellow, he retained ever afterwards. Captain Poynder was not inclined to save either officers or crew till we got into good order, which we accordingly did our best to accomplish.

After cruising for six weeks, we were ordered to Spithead to complete our provisions, water, and stores; and then, having taken some passengers on board, made all sail for our station in Mediterranean.

We had not been long at sea when Dicky and I, wearying of the daily routine of duty, began to play pranks which were calculated to bring us into trouble. The boatswain, who rejoiced in the name of Timotheus Trundle, was one of the most extraordinary of his class, though not a bad boatswain for all that. His appearance in foul weather was that of a short lump of big coats and trousers, with a small red pumpkin growing out of them. On a nearer approach, one discovered in the said pumpkin a pair of red, ferrety eyes, an excrescence for a nose, and a hole into which his whistle fitted for a mouth, and on either side of it, on a Sunday morning, two very high shirt-collars, they towards the end of the week gaining a darker hue and an outward curve. On the top of the pumpkin was a round Spanish hat, the fluff of the catskin which composed it being long enough to make a dozen beavers. He wore, with considerable pride, round his neck a handsome silver call and chain. But with all his oddities, his enemies—and he had a few—were obliged to confess that he knew and did his duty as well as any man in the ship. Among his other qualifications, he was a bit of a sea-lawyer; not of the cantankerous sort, however, for it might be more justly said that he preferred sitting on the judicial bench, and he was ever ready to settle all disputes either by arbitration or the rope’s-end; indeed, in most cases he had recourse to the latter, as being the most summary mode of proceeding. When his duty did not require his presence on his own territory, the forecastle, he was fond of taking a walk on the main-deck, alongside the carpenter’s bench, for he was of a social disposition, and delighted in what he called ‘rasheral’ conversation.

Now, Ichabod Chissel, our carpenter, was another of those heroes of the tongue, who pretend to know everything, and never fail in a story for want of a little invention. By his own crew, who looked up to him and esteemed him for his sterling qualities, he was considered a first-rate politician. The two officers were tolerably good friends in general; but a very slight thing would make them fall out, though they as speedily patched up their quarrels again.

One day there was a light breeze and a smooth sea, and Trundle, not expecting to be wanted, had repaired to the main-deck, where Chissel was superintending his crew at work. Dicky Sharpe and I happened to be near, and observing that they were both more than usually excited, we drew closer to see the fun going forward.

“Well, that was a storm as fierce as ever I did see,” remarked Chissel. “Why, there was a thunderbolt as big as six of my fists put together, fell right through the decks, and out through the ship’s bottom; and if I hadn’t been there to plug the hole, we should all have gone to Davy Jones’ locker, as sure as fate. You was there, Trundle, and you know, old ship, that I speak true.”

“I was there! Yes; but I know you speak a hanged lie, if you say that,” exclaimed Trundle.

“What’s that you say?” shouted Chissel, highly indignant at being told he lied before all his crew, though he doubtless would have cared very little about the matter, had the polite remark been made when the two were alone.

Just then Mr Summers, who was the officer of the watch, sung out, “Hands about ship! Where’s the boatswain?”

“Never in his station,” observed Chissel, as Trundle, call in mouth, was making his way forward. “And very little use when he is there,” he added, either thinking the boatswain would not hear him, or caring very little if he did.

Trundle caught the words just as he was going up the fore-ladder, and though he could not just then take his pipe from his mouth to utter a retort, he gave a fierce look with one of his ferrety eyes, which showed that he acknowledged himself deeply in his messmate’s debt. His pipe sounded more shrill than usual, as he could not give any other vent to his feelings.

“There’ll be a row before long between those two heroes, just you mark that,” said I to Dicky, as we both hurried off to our stations.

“Ay,” said he, giving me a wink; “and I think I can put a spoke in their wheel to help them along.”

It was near twelve o’clock, the ship being put about, the decks cleared up, and grog served out preparatory to dinner, when the boatswain made his appearance before the carpenter, his anger in no way appeased.

“What’s that you were saying about me, Mr Ichabod Chissel, I should like to know?” he exclaimed, in an irate tone.

“Why, Mr Trundle, no man likes to have his ferocity (veracity?) doubted, and if you goes for to affirm that I’m a liar—I don’t mince matters, you’ll understand me,—why, all I’ve got to say is, that you’re the biggest speaker of untruths as ever was born, whoever the mother was who got you. Put that in your pipe, Mr Trundle, and smoke it.”

This most insulting of all remarks increased tenfold the boatswain’s rage, and the two would have come instantly to fisticuffs, but that, fortunately, at that moment the order to pipe to dinner was given. The boatswain’s call came into requisition, and all hands, except the watch on deck, were soon busily employed in discussing the contents of a cask of beef, boasting of but a small proportion of fat or lean and a considerable superfluity of bone.

Now it happened to be Dicky Sharpe’s watch on deck while dinner was going on, and at one o’clock, being relieved, he came down to his own repast, which he was not long in discussing. While he sat turning a large rib-bone over and over, in disgust at finding so little meat on it, and waiting for the boy to clear away, the boatswain, whose cabin could be seen from the berth on the larboard side, roused up from a nap, and began to contemplate his visage in his glass, to discover if he looked in any way as if he had been asleep. It must be understood that it is contrary to the principles of a boatswain worthy of the rank ever to require sleep. He would consider himself disgraced in the eyes of the whole crew, if he were caught taking a wink. A regular-built boatswain is often on deck from half-past three in the morning till eleven at night, and should it be bad weather, or from any other cause, frequently two or three times during the night also; and as to his cabin, he merely looks in occasionally and keeps his donnage there.

Now, to do him justice, Trundle was a thoroughgoing boatswain. While he was rubbing his eyes, to get the sleepiness out of them, pulling up his shirt-collar, and brushing back his hair, the demon of mischief put a thought into Dicky Sharpe’s head. To conceive, with Dicky, was to execute. I happened to be descending from the main-deck, when I saw Dicky standing at the door of the berth, with the rib-bone in hand, and a wicked look in his eye. I instantly perceived the state of affairs, and divined what was to happen. Away flew the bone across the deck, with so good an aim that it made a cannon against the boatswain’s nose and his glass, breaking both one and the other with a loud crash, which was followed by a volley of oaths. The steerage of a frigate, even when a sunbeam penetrates through a scuttle, is not over and above brilliantly lighted; and on the present occasion a purser’s dip here and there just enabled us to grope our way about the deck. Now it happened that the carpenter at that moment was coming out of his berth, which was nearly opposite the boatswain’s.

“Oh! you blessed Chissel; I saw you heave that, you aggrawating so-and-so,” exclaimed Trundle, in a towering rage, exhibiting his bleeding nose and broken glass.

“I never hove anything, and that you know, you so-and-so,” answered Ichabod, drawing near to his adversary.

“You did, though, you so-and-so,” cried Trundle, doubling his fist, and dealing Ichabod a hit on the eye which almost stove it in.

The blow was given back, and returned with interest, with expressions not fit for ears polite, till the noses of both heroes were streaming with blood, and their voices were hallooing away at the highest pitch. Dicky was rubbing his hands in high glee at the successful result of his experiment, when the captain, aroused by the hubbub, rang his bell to know what was the matter. This sound, like that of Oberon’s magic horn, instantly paralysed the combatants; and the sentry having put his head into the cabin, and made some report which apparently satisfied the skipper, the two warriors, like a couple of lions growling defiance at each other, retired to their berths, to staunch their bleeding wounds, and wash away the stains of the fight from their faces.

Here the first thing which met the eye of the boatswain, as he stooped to pick up the fragments of his glass, was the missile which had inflicted the injury. Now, as the officers generally choose the long ribs of beef for roasting, for which they pay one pound in six for the good of the ship’s company, and the boatswain had actually seen the carpenter’s servant carrying a piece of rib-beef for his master’s dinner, he felt perfectly satisfied who had thrown the bone. Seizing it, therefore, in his hand, with the fragments of his glass, and his nose still bleeding, he rushed on deck, and halted, quivering with rage, on the quarter-deck, in presence of the first-lieutenant.

“By Jupiter, what a wigging I shall get,” whispered Dicky, in a terrible funk. “I say, D’Arcy, my boy, don’t ’peach, though.”

I cocked my eye, and, pointing to the masthead,—“Six hours a day for the next week, eh!—pleasant, Dicky,” I answered.

Master Dicky dared not show his face, lest his consciousness of guilt might betray itself; for, though unable to resist doing a piece of mischief when the temptation came in his way, he had not got the brazen front of a hardened sinner. I also, anxious as I was to learn the result of the trial, was afraid of showing too great an interest in it, lest suspicion should fall on me, and therefore walked the quarter-deck at a respectful distance, picking up what information I could on the way.

“What is this you have to complain of, Mr Trundle?” asked the first-lieutenant, as he stood at the capstern-head, with the enraged boatswain before him.

“Why, sir, as I was a-cleaning myself just now in my cabin, a-thinking no harm of nobody, Mr Ichabod Chissel, the carpenter of this here ship, sir, and my brother officer, thinks fit to heave this here rib-bone right across the steerage against my nose and my glass, and breaks both on ’em. If that ain’t enough to aggrawate and perwoke and—and—and—(he stopped for a word) flabbergast any one, I don’t know what is, sir, you’ll allow.”

“Very much so, I grant,” observed Mr Du Pre, taking the bone between his fingers and holding it behind his back. “Send Mr Chissel here.”

The carpenter soon made his appearance.

“Pray, Mr Chissel, what part of the meat had you for your dinner, to-day?” asked Mr Du Pre.

“The tail, sir,” said the carpenter.

“What became of the bone after dinner?” asked the first-lieutenant.

“The boy cleared it away with the rest of the things, sir,” was the answer.

“Let the boy be sent for,” said Mr Du Pre.

Bobby Smudge soon came rolling along, hitching up his trousers as he approached the capstern.

There was a wicked look in the young rascal’s eye, which made me suspect he knew all about the matter. He was the most complete little Pickle in the ship, and was continually getting punished, and most deservedly too, by his master. The very day before, the carpenter had reported him, and he had got eleven finnams on the hand for having, in conveying Mr Chissel’s grog from the tub to his cabin, being detected in the very act of taking a hatchway nip—the said hatchway nip, let it be understood, being a sip snatched furtively by the bearer of a glass of grog on the ladder descending from the main to the lower deck. A finnam, I must also explain, is a blow inflicted on the hand, with a cane generally, by the master-at-arms or the ship’s corporal. To the said finnams poor Bobby Smudge’s black paws were well accustomed.

“Boy, what was done with the bone after your master’s dinner?” asked Mr Du Pre, in a severe tone.

“I’m sure I don’t know, sir,” replied Bobby Smudge, in a long drawl, worthy of a London professional street-beggar.

“Should you know it again if you saw it?” asked the first-lieutenant.

“Oh yes, sir; I’m sure I should,” replied Master Smudge, brightening up and looking the picture of innocent simplicity.

“Well, my boy, what do you say to this?” said Mr Du Pre, producing the bone from behind his back.

All eyes turned towards Bobby Smudge: the carpenter’s fate hung on his decision. The young monkey felt his importance, and determined to exert it. Chissel knew it was the very sort of bone he had scraped not an hour before. Bobby took it, and, turning it round, examined it narrowly.

“Oh yes, sir; I’ll swear to it, that I will,” he exclaimed, holding up his blistered hand behind his back so that the carpenter might observe it. “As I was a-trying to get my dinner off it, I notched it with my knife, I knowed I did, ’cause there was so little meat on it.”

“Oh, you wretched young liar,” muttered the carpenter, for he dared not speak aloud; “won’t I pay you off, that’s all?”

The boy heard him, and gave a grin of defiance.

“Mr Chissel, go to your cabin, and consider yourself under arrest,” said the first-lieutenant; “I must report this affair to the captain. The discipline of the ship cannot be thus trifled with; and officers especially, who ought to know better, must not be allowed to set the men so bad an example with impunity.”

Saying this, Mr Du Pre resumed his walk on the quarter-deck, and I hurried down to report what had occurred, to my chum Dicky. At first he was highly delighted at having escaped detection.

“Stop a bit, Dicky,” said I; “I don’t think you are quite out of the fire yet. It will never do to let the carpenter be disrated or dismissed the ship for conduct of which he is innocent. The truth must come out; and, to my mind, honesty is the best policy.”

“Well, but don’t you see, D’Arcy, I shall get mast-headed and have my leave stopped, and I don’t know what else—all for shying a bone across the steerage,” argued Dicky. “What business had the boatswain and carpenter to hit each other, I should like to know. If that stupid Trundle had taken the joke in good part, there wouldn’t have been all this row.”

I laughed outright at Master Richard’s style of reasoning.

“That argument won’t stand good with the skipper,” said I. “Now, come, let me do the only thing which can set matters to rights; because it is the right thing. I’m a bit of a favourite with Mr Du Pre, I suspect; and I’ll go up to him at once, and tell him the truth. If anything can get you off, that will; and if the affair reaches the ears of the captain, there will be a very serious row, I’m certain.”

At last Dicky consented to my plan, and without waiting to let him change his mind, I went on deck, where I found the first-lieutenant.

“I’ve got something to say about that beef-bone, sir,” I began.

“What’s that, Mr D’Arcy,” he exclaimed, turning sharp round. “When am I to hear the last of that beef-bone?”

“Why, sir, it wasn’t the carpenter threw it, but one of the midshipmen; he couldn’t help it, though. No one could, I’m sure,” I rapped out.

“Why, Master D’Arcy, I verily believe you’re the culprit,” he exclaimed, looking at me steadfastly.

I detected, however, a smile in his eye, which showed that his anger was not very serious; so I at once told him exactly how the matter had occurred, and that Dicky had begged me to come and confess the truth and intercede for him. Master Sharpe was therefore sent for; and having been severely reprimanded, was told that as soon as we got into harbour his leave would be stopped, and was then ordered to the masthead for a couple of hours, to sit there instead of on the stool of repentance. The carpenter was released from arrest, on condition that he should keep the peace. The boatswain’s nose mended in the course of a few days; and though reminded of the outrage every time he attempted to shave before his broken bit of looking-glass, he and Chissel soon patched up their quarrel and resumed their former intimacy. The person who fared worst was Bobby Smudge, who, never a favourite with his master, now obtained a double allowance of finnams, and a sly rope’s-ending whenever opportunities offered. Bobby began to discover that revenge, though sweet, may recoil on the head of the avenger, and become very bitter. More ultimately came out of the beef-bone affair.

Chapter Twelve.

Reach the Mediterranean—Malta—A Ride on Shore—A Ball—A Heroine—Our Partners—Mr Nip and his Partner—An Odd Egg Hatched—Adam Stallman’s Advice—The Right Thing the Best Thing.

Nothing of importance occurred that I remember during our passage across the Bay of Biscay. We had the usual heavy swells (though I have found it as level as a fish-pond), a stiffish breeze for a day or so, which gave us a cheery shove on our way, and light and variable winds and calms, which latter let us roll till our yard-arms almost touched the water, and effectually turned the landsmen inside out. Ten days after leaving Plymouth, we were in the latitude of Lisbon. It was early morning, and the land we were approaching was shrouded to common eyes by a soft silvery haze, which allowed only a circle of blue sea to be perceived round the ship, and a patch of about the same size of clear sky overhead. On the larboard bow was perceived a darker mass of mist, which after some time resolved itself into the well-known form of the Rock of Lisbon. The wind being light and variable, we drew very gradually inshore, till the mist suddenly lifting, as if at the command of a magician, disclosed to us the splendid and fantastic scenery of those rocky heights, as they rose proudly from the glittering ocean, which was dotted with numerous sails of fishing-boats and coasters, and here and there the canvas of some loftier merchantmen, making for the mouth of the Tagus. On the lower land, to the north of the Rock, was seen the royal palace of Mafra—a curious huge pile, imposing from its height and the large extent of ground it covers. I do not, however, intend to bother my readers with accounts of places and scenery, which they may find much better described in numberless books of voyages and travels. The wind freshening and coming fair, we continued our course, and, passing the Capes of Ortegal and Finisterre on the second day after leaving the Rock, were off Cape Saint Vincent, immortalised in naval memories by Sir John Jervis’ great action, and since then, by the way, by a very pretty bit of fighting under Charlie Napier, when he took possession of Don Miguel’s fleet with one half its size. Cape Trafalgar next came in sight, and was eagerly viewed by all hands, for, often as one may gaze on its dark blue cliffs, the deep interest they inspire can never fail; one is reminded that in their neighbourhood the glorious navy of England, under the greatest of its chiefs, secured the freedom of the world, and struck the blow which stopped the victor of continental Europe in his wild career of conquest. Peace to the names of England’s gallant defenders, who died for their country off Trafalgar’s Cape! and sacred be the memory of the immortal Nelson, our meteor-flag of victory!—But, little Neil D’Arcy, where are you steering for? Has the sight of Trafalgar made you fancy you can do a bit of fine writing? Just get back, boy, to your usual style, and leave such attempts to the pens of novelists and travellers.

It was near nightfall when we made the Rock of Gibraltar; and as we passed through the Straits when I was snug below in my hammock, my journal contains no description of that wonderful fortress. When the morning dawned, the high mountains of Spain were just visible in the horizon; and the next land we sighted was the coast of Barbary, somewhere to the westward of Tunis. Six days after that we were in sight of Sicily, when, after hauling off the coast, a gale sprung up, and such thick and cloudy weather came on, that we could take no observations. The ship was therefore hove-to; and while sail was being taken off her I got an ugly fall, which laid me up in my hammock for several days. During my illness, Dicky Sharpe was constantly with me, whenever he was off duty, and we became greater friends than ever.

“Do you know, D’Arcy, I am really very much obliged to you for having got me so well out of that scrape with the boatswain and the beef-bone!” he said to me in a tone of confidence one day, after we had reached Valetta harbour. “I have not ventured to ask Mr Du Pre leave to go on shore. Do you think he would give it me?”

“I rather think not, Dicky,” said I. “Don’t say a word about it for some time to come, and then you can begin to look dull and melancholy, and to pine for the shore; and perhaps his heart will soften with compassion, and he will give you leave.”

“Capital advice! Won’t I look melancholy, that’s all, when the time comes?” he exclaimed. “How soon ought I to begin?”

“Not till I’m well and can go on shore to look after you,” I answered.

The fact was, I wanted Dicky’s company when I could go on shore myself, which the surgeon told me I might do in a few days; and when asking for myself, I intended putting in a word with Mr Du Pre in his favour. When I crawled on deck I found the ship had taken up her moorings in Dockyard Creek, a branch of the Grand Harbour, from which it runs at right angles, on the opposite side to Valetta. Most deservedly is the Grand Harbour so called, for in beauty, size, and security it is unsurpassed; and it is singular that it should exist in an island of dimensions so limited. Malta has an individuality of its own. It is like no other spot in the world; and when one looks at the magnificent lines of batteries, bristling with cannon, and the mass of churches, monasteries, and houses, which towers above them, one can scarcely believe that the whole has been hewn out of the solid rock of which the island is composed. But I am not going to describe Malta. In three or four days more I was quite well, and having succeeded in obtaining leave from Mr Du Pre for Dicky to accompany me on shore, we landed at the Nix Mangiare steps, and took our way through the town. The first thing we did was to hire horses to take a ride into the country. Both of us could stick on pretty well (what midshipman cannot?); but as for science, we had none of it. At first we trotted on gaily enough, and then our horses broke into a gallop, which we enjoyed very much.

“Capital goers, these!” exclaimed Dicky. “If they keep up at this rate, I vote we take a regular circuit of the island.”

“Faith, then, I’m ready for that same,” said I; and on we galloped.

So delighted were we at the way our steeds went, that we sat the saddles and held our reins rather loosely. On a sudden they both came to a full stop, and up simultaneously went their heels in the air. Over their heads we flew, and alighted some dozen yards off; while the well-trained beasts, with neighs of derision which were truly provoking, galloped back to their stables, leaving us to find our way into Valetta as best we could. By-the-bye, the horse-master had taken very good care to get paid first. Dicky sat up on the ground and rubbed his head, to discover if it was broken. I followed his example, and finding no bones dislocated, my spirits rose again. We looked at each other, when there appeared something so ludicrously forlorn in the expression of our countenances, that we both burst out into fits of laughter. We indulged in our mirth for some time, and then got up and commenced our walk back into the town. Fortunately we had not got any very great distance from the walls, so the walk was easy of accomplishment. We had proceeded about a mile or so, when two midshipmen hove in sight, galloping along in high glee on the very horses which had just disburdened themselves of us.

“Hillo! you fellows, those are our horses,” sang out Dicky; “just get off now, will you?”

But he might as well have called a whirlwind to halt; for helter-skelter, past us they dashed, without minding us a bit. Dicky was highly indignant.

“Well, I never was so treated in my life!” he exclaimed.

“Wait a bit,” said I; for I had a shrewd suspicion that the horses would play their present riders the same trick they had served us; and sure enough, in about ten minutes, we heard a clattering of hoofs behind us, and, looking round, saw the knowing old steeds coming, galloping along by themselves.

“Now, now’s the time, Dicky,” I sang out. “You catch one and I’ll catch the other, and we’ll still have our ride out. The horses are ours, there’s no doubt of it.”

Sooner said, however, than done. The beasts came on very steadily till they got close to us, and then they began rearing and frisking, and kicking up such a dust that it was impossible to catch hold of their bridles; and, it must be confessed, we were glad enough to get out of their way without being trampled over.

“Where are the brutes?” I asked, feeling very foolish.

“Where are they?” echoed Dicky, looking the same. “There they go, as steady as cart-horses. Hang it! they knew we were midshipmen.”

Our only satisfaction was to see a third set of riders come out on the same brutes, and to be able to laugh in our sleeves, while we wished them a pleasant ride across the island. What became of all the riders I don’t know. The steeds again passed us just before we reached the gates.—Three or four evenings after this, the officers of the ship were asked to a ball, and the captain took Dicky and me. We did not know anybody, and were hard up for partners, till the skipper introduced us each to a Maltese girl. They were both very short, though that was a fault on the right side; but they were also very fat and very dark, and could not speak a word of English; and one squinted, and the other had lost an eye. Their noses turned up, and their lips were thick and large. They were not beauties, certainly; but we danced with them all the evening, changing every now and then for variety, though I had to look hard to make out which was my original partner, as I only knew them apart by the defect in their eyes. Dicky asked me if I didn’t think them as pretty as Alice Marlow, at which I very nearly knocked him down in the ball-room. But he appeased me by assuring me with the greatest gravity, that he admired the squinting one very much, and should certainly, if he were older, make her Mrs Sharpe. He did nothing but talk about her for two days afterwards; and, as we did not know her real name, we called her Miss Smaitch, which, though not euphonious, did as well as any other. On the third day he dined with an officer in the dockyard who had a numerous family of daughters, to one of whom he transferred his affections, and they remained steady for nearly a week, about which time we left Malta. To return to the ball, however. When Dicky and I were not dancing, we amused ourselves by watching what was going forward, especially in observing the occupations of our superior officers.

“I say, D’Arcy, who is that young lady Mr Vernon is dancing with, I wonder? She is a stunner, isn’t she, my boy?” said Dicky, sidling up to me, and pointing with his chin towards a very beautiful girl, to whom our second lieutenant had just then given his hand, and was leading up to form a quadrille.

There was a roseate blush on her cheek, and a brightening glance in her eye, as she looked up at the gallant officer, which betokened more than ordinary satisfaction at being chosen his partner in the dance. The colour increased, and the eyes brightened still more, while a smile played round her ruby lips, as Mr Vernon uttered, in a low tone, a few words in her ear.

Dicky observed it. “I twig something there,” he whispered. “What will you bet me, D’Arcy, that Mr Vernon doesn’t splice that same young lady, now? It’s a regular case, depend on it. I thought there was something going on, he’s been so constantly on shore since we came into harbour. He’s a right good fellow, and I wish him joy.”

“I hope, if it is a case, that he’ll not marry till the ship is out of commission,” I remarked. “I should be sorry indeed to lose him. But we must not talk so loud, or we shall be overheard.”

Just then the captain came up, to make Dicky dance with Miss Smaitch. I was left alone to watch proceedings. From what I saw, I was fully convinced that Master Sharpe’s conjectures were well founded, and that Mr Vernon and the fair unknown were certainly deeply in love with each other, and most probably engaged. She certainly, as far as I could judge from mere appearance, was well worthy the love of any man. Young as I was, she made a deep impression on me; and even at this distance of time I can bring her Hebe-like figure before me, with almost the vivid colours of reality. She was not tall, but her figure was full of grace and life. Her complexion was beautifully fair; her eyes were blue; and the expression of her countenance was soft, feminine, and full of sweetness; at the same time, the arch smile which occasionally played over it showed that she was not destitute of sense and wit.

While I was looking on, I was joined by Adam Stallman, one of the senior mates of the Harold. I have slightly mentioned him before. He was of a somewhat grave and taciturn disposition, but generous and kind, and as brave and honourable as any knight sans peur et sans reproche. He read much and thought more, and was ready to give good advice when asked for it; but innate modesty prevented him from volunteering to afford it, except on rare occasions, when he saw that it was absolutely necessary to preserve a person from following a path which might lead him to ruin.

Dicky and I were favourites of his; for though he kept us in order, and more than once had inflicted a sound cobbing on my chum (certainly well deserved), he was very kind to us.

“I say, Stallman, can you tell me who the young lady is with whom Mr Vernon is dancing?” said I.

“Why do you ask?” he inquired.

“Because she is very beautiful,” I replied.

The colour heightened on his generally impassive, well-bronzed features, as his eye fell on the lady whom I indicated. “Yes,” he answered, with a firm voice, “that lady is Miss Blanche Norman, the daughter of Major Norman, who is out here for his health. But wouldn’t you like to dance, youngster?”

I told him that I had been engaged by the captain to dance with Miss Smaitch Number 2.

“Well, come to me if you want a partner,” he said, and moved on.

I saw him soon afterwards go up and shake hands with Miss Norman. His lip momentarily quivered, I saw; but his countenance otherwise remained firm. She received him as an old acquaintance, and seemed glad to see him.

I took it into my head that Adam was in love with her, or had been; but that, as he had little besides his pay to depend on, he could not indulge a dream of marrying. From what I afterwards learned, I was right in this conjecture. Poor fellow! he had loved her well and deeply, but he had never told his love. She might have suspected his attachment, but with the tact and delicacy of a right-minded woman, she did not allow him to discover that she did so, but endeavoured, by the frank kindness of her words and manner, to take away the bitterness from the wound she was inflicting. I do not mean to say, however, that at the time I knew this, but I made a pretty shrewd guess at the truth.

In a little time Dicky came hurrying up to me with a look full of importance.

“I say, D’Arcy, I’ve found out all about it. I heard our medico tell Old Nip (meaning the purser) that Vernon proposed a few days ago to Miss Norman, and was accepted; so they are regularly engaged, you know, and he has a right to dance with her as often as he likes. What fun for him! I know that I should like to be in his place. That’s her father: not the tall man with the white hair, but the shorter one next him. He looks almost too young to be her father, doesn’t he? Perhaps his being ill makes him look so. They are soon going home; but they are to stop at Gibraltar, so the doctor says.”