Part 2 (2/2)
”Do you mean that merry-looking fellow between those two?”
”That same sure,” was the answer.
Tom explained who they were, adding, ”And who are you, and what s.h.i.+p do you belong to?”
”Sure I don't belong to one at all at all, but my Uncle, Terence Adair, is to be third lieutenant of the _Plantagenet_ frigate, and I'm to be a mids.h.i.+pman with him; and in the matter of my name, I'm Gerald Desmond, of Ballymacree Castle, in County Clare, Ireland.”
”Well, Mr Gerald Desmond, of Bally--what do you call it, County Clare, Ireland? I have the pleasure of informing you that you are to be a messmate of mine, and as I've heard a good deal of your uncle, Paddy Adair, from my brother Jack, I shall be very happy to welcome you on board and to introduce you to the other fellows.”
Gerald expressed himself much obliged to Tom for the intended favour.
”But ye'll not be after calling my Uncle Terence, Paddy, if ye plase,”
he added, his Irish blood rising with the idea that some disrespect was shown to his relative.
”Don't trouble yourself about that, my dear fellow,” said Tom, who never wished to quarrel with any one. ”My brother Jack always calls him so, and the Paddy slipped out by mistake; but you may be very sure that you'll be Paddy Desmond from the hour you step on board, and for ever after unless there's another Irishman to deprive you of the t.i.tle, though, probably, there'll then be a brace of Paddies.”
”Faith, I'm not ashamed of my country, and I am perfectly happy to be Paddy Desmond if you and the other boys like to call me so,” answered Gerald, laughing.
Adair finding that it was not necessary to go on board the frigate immediately, accompanied his two friends into Portsmouth, the three young mids.h.i.+pmen following in their wake, Gerald having first been introduced to Jack and Alick. The youngsters were fast friends from that moment, laughing and rattling away, and playing each other all sorts of tricks. No one would have supposed that they had only just met for the first time in their lives. As they turned into the High Street the lieutenants encountered Admiral Triton stumping along in his flus.h.i.+ng coat and weather-beaten hat. He recognised Murray and Adair at once, and invited them and Jack, with Tom and his two friends to dine with him at the ”George” at six.
”I shall then hear how you like being a sailor. It isn't too late to give it up,” said the Admiral, looking at Tom.
”Wouldn't change if they would make me a judge or Archbishop of York,”
answered Tom, in a positive tone.
”Just like Jack,” observed the Admiral, smiling, ”I hope at the end of your cruise you'll have no reason to repent your resolution.”
Jack during the day picked up several more men, and returned early on board; when Tom, with no little pride, introduced his new friend to the mess, as Mr Gerald Desmond, of Ballymacree Castle, County Clare, Ireland.
”Mr Gerald Desmond be hanged!” exclaimed old Higson, who had come down tired, after having worked hard all day, and was out of humour. ”Call him Paddy Desmond at once. We have no misters in this berth.”
”And sure, so I am Paddy Desmond, and if it's to show that I come from old Ireland, I'm proud of the t.i.tle,” said Gerald, taking his seat, and looking about him with an air of unconcern.
”I told you so,” whispered Tom. ”I knew from the first that they would call you Paddy.”
Gerald quickly made himself at home, and took in good part all the quizzing his messmates chose to bestow on him.
The dinner at the ”George” went off capitally. The Admiral put his young guests at their ease, and let them talk and laugh away to their hearts' content, telling them all sorts of amusing anecdotes, and though he took good care not to allow them to drink more wine than their heads could carry, they unanimously declared that he was the jolliest old fellow they had ever met. Of course, he did not forget to tell all the company boxy Adair had made him carry his portmanteau, and to chuckle over the story for five minutes at least.
”A pretty pa.s.s the service has come to when mids.h.i.+pmen take such liberties with their superiors, eh, Captain Sourcrout?” he exclaimed, giving a poke in the ribs with his elbow to a stiff, old, martinet style of post-captain, who sat next to him, and had looked utterly horrified at his story.
”The world's turned upside down, isn't it? We shall have the youngsters mast-heading us next, if we don't exactly please them, eh?”
Captain Sourcrout, unable to speak from indignation, could only shake his head and frown terribly, at which the mids.h.i.+pmen, as he was not their captain, laughed the more heartily. The Admiral had heard, too, of the trick Jack and his messmates had played with Quirk, the monkey, on Lieutenant Spry, of the marines, and while he told the story as he had received it from Jack, with a few amplifications of his own, the tears ran down his eyes, till Captain Sourcrout, boiling over with indignation, exclaimed:
”The navy has indeed come to a pretty pa.s.s when such things are allowed.
Instead of being mast-headed, the three mids.h.i.+pmen should have been brought to a court-martial, and dismissed the service.”
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