Part 20 (1/2)
All the ducks and geese were dead, the eggs and crockery all broken, the grocery almost washed away; in short, as...o...b..ien observed, there was ”a very pretty general average.” Mr Falcon was still very angry. ”Who are the men missing?” inquired he of Swinburne, the c.o.xswain, as he came up by the side.
”Williams and Sweetman, sir.”
”Two of the smartest topmen, I am told. It really is too provoking; there is not a mids.h.i.+pman in the s.h.i.+p I can trust. I must work all day, and get no a.s.sistance. The service is really going to the devil now, with the young men who are sent on board to be brought up as officers, and who are above doing their duty. What made you so late, Swinburne?”
”Waiting for the marine officer, who went to Stonehouse to see his wife; but Mr Simple would not wait any longer, as it was getting dark, and we had so many drunken men in the boat.”
”Mr Simple did right. I wish Mr Harrison would stay on sh.o.r.e with his wife altogether--it's really trifling with the service. Pray, Mr Swinburne, why had not you your eyes about you, if Mr Simple was so careless? How came you to allow these men to leave the boat?”
”The men were ordered up by the marine officer, to bring down your stores, sir, and they gave the steward the slip. It was no fault of Mr Simple's, nor of mine either. We laid off at the wharf for two hours before we started, or we should have lost more; for what can a poor lad do, when he has charge of drunken men who _will not_ obey orders?” And the c.o.xswain looked up at the mast-head, as much as to say, Why is he sent there? ”I'll take my oath, sir,” continued Swinburne, ”that Mr Simple never put his foot out of the boat, from the time that he went over the side until be came on board; and that no young gentleman could have done his duty more strictly.”
Mr Falcon looked very angry at first, at the c.o.xswain speaking so freely, but said nothing. He took one or two turns on the deck, and then hailing the mast-head, desired me to come down. But I _could not_; my limbs were so cramped with the wind blowing upon my wet clothes, that I could not move. He bailed again; I heard him, but was not able to answer. One of the top men then came up, and perceiving my condition, hailed the deck, and said he believed I was dying for I could not move, and that he dared not leave for fear I should fall. O'Brien, who had been on deck all the while, jumped up the rigging, and was soon at the cross-trees where I was. He sent the topman down into the top for a sail-block and the studding-sail haulyards, made a whip, and lowered me on deck. I was immediately put into my hammock; and the surgeon ordering me some hot brandy-and-water, and plenty of blankets, in a few hours I was quite restored.
O'Brien, who was at my bedside, said, ”Never mind, Peter, and don't be angry with Mr Falcon, for he is very sorry.”
”I am not angry, O'Brien: for Mr Falcon has been too kind to me not to make me forgive him for being once hasty.”
The surgeon came to my hammock, gave me some more hot drink, desired me to go to sleep, and I woke the next morning quite well.
When I came into the berth, my messmates asked me how I was, and many of them railed against the tyranny of Mr Falcon; but I took his part, saying, that he was hasty in this instance, perhaps, but that, generally speaking he was an excellent and very just officer. Some agreed with me, but others did not. One of them, who was always in disgrace, sneered at me, and said, ”Peter reads the Bible, and knows that if you smite one cheek, he must offer the other. Now, I'll answer for it, if I pull his right ear, he will offer me his left.” So saying, he lugged me by the ear, upon which I knocked him down for his trouble. The berth was then cleared away for a fight, and in a quarter of an hour my opponent gave in; but I suffered a little, and had a very black eye. I had hardly time to wash myself and change my s.h.i.+rt, which was b.l.o.o.d.y, when I was summoned on the quarter-deck. I arrived, I found Mr Falcon walking up and down. He looked very hard at me, but did not ask me any questions as to the cause of my unusual appearance.
”Mr Simple,” said he, ”I sent for you to beg your pardon for my behaviour to you last night, which was not only very hasty but very unjust. I find that you were not to blame for the loss of the men.”
I felt very sorry for him when I heard him speak so handsomely; and to make his mind more easy, I told him that although I certainly was not to blame for the loss of those two men, still I had done wrong in permitting Hickman to leave the boat; and that had not the sergeant picked him up, I should have come off without him, and therefore I _did_ deserve the punishment which I had received.
”Mr Simple,” replied Mr Falcon, ”I respect you, and admire your feelings: still I was to blame, and it is my duty to apologise. Now go down below I would have requested the pleasure of your company to dinner, but I perceive that something else has occurred, which, under any other circ.u.mstances, I would have inquired into, but at present I shall not.”
I touched my hat and went below. In the meantime O'Brien had been made acquainted with the occasion of the quarrel, which he did not fail to explain to Mr Falcon, who, O'Brien declared, ”was not the least bit in the world angry with me for what had occurred.” Indeed, after that, Mr Falcon always treated me with the greatest kindness, and employed me on every duty which he considered of consequence. He was a sincere friend; for he did not allow me to neglect my duty, but, at the same time, treated me with consideration and confidence.
The marine officer came on board very angry at being left behind, and talked about a court-martial on me for disrespect, and neglect of stores intrusted to my charge; but O'Brien told me not to mind him or what he said, ”It's my opinion, Peter, that the gentleman has eaten no small quant.i.ty of _flapdoodle_ in his lifetime.”
”What's that, O'Brien?” replied I; ”I never heard of it.”
”Why, Peter,” rejoined he, ”it's the stuff they _feed fools on_.”
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
A LONG CONVERSATION WITH MR. CHUCKS--THE ADVANTAGES OF HAVING A PRAYER-BOOK IN YOUR POCKET--WE RUN DOWN THE TRADES--SWINBURNE, THE QUARTER-MASTER, AND HIS YARNS--THE CAPTAIN FALLS SICK.
The next day the captain came on board with sealed orders, with directions not to open them until off Ushant. In the afternoon, we weighed and made sail. It was a fine northerly wind, and the Bay of Biscay was smooth. We bore up, set all the studding sails, and ran along at the rate of eleven miles an hour. As I could not appear on the quarter-deck, I was put down on the sick list. Captain Savage, who was very particular, asked what was the matter with me. The surgeon replied, ”An inflamed eye.” The captain asked no more questions; and I took care to keep out of his way. I walked in the evening on the forecastle, when I renewed my intimacy with Mr Chucks, the boatswain, to whom I gave a full narrative of all my adventures in France. ”I have been ruminating, Mr Simple,” said he, ”how such a stripling as you could have gone through so much fatigue, and now I know how it is. It is _blood_, Mr Simple--all blood--you are descended from good blood; and there's as much difference between n.o.bility and the lower cla.s.ses, as there is between a racer and a cart-horse.”
”I cannot agree with you, Mr Chucks. Common people are quite as brave as those who are well-born. You do not mean to say that you are not brave--that the seamen on board this s.h.i.+p are not brave?”
”No, no, Mr Simple but as I observed about myself, my mother was a woman who could not be trusted, and there is no saying who was my father; and she was a very pretty woman to boot, which levels all distinctions for the moment. As for the seamen, G.o.d knows, I should do them an injustice if I did not acknowledge that they were as brave as lions. But there are two kinds of bravery, Mr Simple--the bravery of the moment, and the courage of bearing up for a long while. Do you understand me?”
”I think I do; but still do not agree with you. Who will bear more fatigue than our sailors?”
”Yes, yes, Mr Simple, that is because they are _endured_ to it from their hard life: but if the common sailors were all such little thread-papers as you, and had been brought up so carefully, they would not have gone through all you have. That's my opinion, Mr Simple-- there's nothing like _blood_.”
”I think, Mr Chucks, you carry your ideas on that subject too far.”
”I do not Mr Simple; and I think, moreover, that he who has more to lose than another will always strive more. But a common man only fights for his own credit; but when a man is descended from a long line of people famous in history, and has a coat _in_ arms, criss-crossed, and stuck all over with lions and unicorns to support the dignity of--why, has he not to fight for the credit of all his ancestors, whose names would be disgraced if he didn't behave well?”
”I agree with you, Mr Chucks, in the latter remark, to a certain extent.”