Part 26 (2/2)

Captain Samuel Vincent gave me a reception warm indeed, but not in the way of kindness. After making me repeat my name, he asked me under what captain I had served as a mids.h.i.+pman, and when I said that I had never been a mids.h.i.+pman, and was proceeding to explain the manner of my appointment he cut me short.

”Not a mids.h.i.+pman!” he cried, running together all three syllables of the word. ”You bin to school, I s'pose?”

”Yes, indeed,” I said, ”at Shrewsbury.”

”Now hark to me,” he cries, again interrupting me. ”I never went to no school, and I hain't got no philosophies nor any other useless cargoes in my hold, nor Mr. Benbow neither; and if ever you say a word against Mr. Benbow you'll wish you wasn't Humphrey, nor Bold, 'cos you'll wish as how you'd never bin born. I bid you good mornin'.”

I left him, in a fine heat of resentment, thinking that a few years at Shrewsbury school might have improved both his language and his manners. But when I came to know him better, and to understand the motive of his rough address to me, I forgave the bluff seaman heartily. He was a keen partisan in the feud that then divided the navy, the one faction being for Benbow, the other against him; and being ignorant of my antecedents, he supposed from my not having been a mids.h.i.+pman that I was one of the fine gentlemen who were foisted on the King's service by their high connections and despised plain seamen of the Benbow school. I might have undeceived him very soon had I so pleased, but I thought it best to win his approval by the manner in which I performed my duties, leaving the other matter to time. As it happened, my fidelity to Mr. Benbow was shown very clearly before long.

'Twould be a dull story to relate the trivial incidents of my first year of service in the navy. I spent five months at sea, and seven on sh.o.r.e, and Captain Vincent being a martinet. I had to work hard for my pay of four s.h.i.+llings a day (on sh.o.r.e it was cut down to two s.h.i.+llings). My diligence in studying navigation pleased him; and when a little affair in which I had been concerned came to his ears, he took me, in a sense, to his heart.

I had gone one day with Lieutenant Venables, of our s.h.i.+p, into a coffee house in Portsmouth, whither the officers of the fleet much resorted. The first man I set eyes on was d.i.c.k Cludde, who was, as I learned afterwards, a lieutenant of the Defiance, which had lately come into port. With him was his captain ('twas the Captain Kirkby I had seen in the inn at Harley), also Captain Cooper Wade, of the Greenwich, Captain Hudson of the Pendennis, and a number of junior officers.

Cludde greeted me with a puzzled stare; 'twas clear he had not heard of the change in my fortunes, and maybe believed me to be still scouring the cook's slush pans aboard the Dolphin privateer.

I saw him turn to Lieutenant Simpson, of the Pendennis, who knew me, and guessed by the quick glance Simpson gave me that Cludde had asked him concerning my appearance there.

Venables and I sat down to our coffee, and 'twas not long before we knew, by the loud voices of the others, that they had laced theirs with rum, or maybe were pretty well filled with wine to begin with.

And, as it always happened when officers of the fleet met together, they were soon hot upon the subject of Mr. Benbow, his rough manners, his rustic speech, and his outrageous lack of respect for his betters. After a little of this talk Venables says to me:

”Come, Bold, we are better away from this.”

”You are right,” says I, and we both rose and put on our hats.

Cludde saw the action, and, taking courage I suppose from the presence of his boon fellows, he said, in a tone loud enough to reach my ears:

”That's one of his doings. Simpson tells me that that fellow is a lieutenant on the Falmouth, through Benbow's interest; he comes from my town Shrewsbury, and a year or two ago was a charity brat, with scarce a coat to his back.”

At this I swung round and took a pace or two towards the table where Cludde was seated. Though I had much ado to curb my anger, I said quietly:

”If that is true, Cludde, you know who is the cause of it.”

”I did not speak to you, sirrah,” says he.

”But I speak to you,” I said. ”You may say what you please about me; I will settle my account with you in good time; but I advise you not to say too much about Mr. Benbow, who is not here to answer for himself.”

”Oho, you sneak out of it that way, do you?” says he. ”I'll say what I please about Mr. Benbow without asking leave of you or any man. Benbow is a low-born scut--can you deny it? Wasn't his father a tanner, and don't his sister keep a coffee shop?”

”And what then?”

”What then? Why, this: that he ain't fit to be in the company of gentlemen,” and then he told a foul story of Benbow which angered me past all endurance.

I strode up to him, and before I could be prevented I planted my fist in his face with such force that he toppled backwards over his chair and came to the floor.

”Now you can swallow that lie,” I cried, standing with clenched fists over him.

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