Part 10 (1/2)

Captain Oliver had directed me to meet him at the ”George,” and I found him standing on the steps of that aristocratic hotel to which very few mids.h.i.+pmen of those days ever thought of going. My mother, being well acquainted with the internal economy of a man-of-war, had provided me with a chest of very moderate dimensions, at which no First-Lieutenant, however strict, could cavil. It and I were deposited at the hotel, and the waiter, seeing the kind way in which the Captain treated me, must have taken me for a young lord at least, and ordered the porter to carry it forthwith inside.

”That will do,” said the Captain, as he eyed it. ”And now you must come and get measured for your uniforms, and procure other necessaries, as I hope we may be off in two or three days at furthest.”

I found that Captain Oliver had paid off the ”Grecian,” and commissioned a new frigate, the ”Orion,” to which most of his officers and men had been turned over, and that she was about to proceed to the Indian station. ”There was no use telling your poor mother this,” he observed.

”The thoughts that you would be so long separated from her would only have added to her grief at parting from you, and as far as you are concerned, my boy, the time will soon pa.s.s by, and you will come back nearly ready for a swab on your shoulder.”

The tailor, under the Captain's inspection, having examined the contents of my chest, made a note of the things I required besides. My outfit was soon complete.

”And now, my lad, my c.o.xswain will take charge of you and your chest,”

said the Captain, ”and see you safely on board.”

Greatly to my delight, Toby Kiddle soon afterwards made his appearance.

”Why, Mr Burton,” he said, and I thought his eyes twinkled as he addressed me with that t.i.tle. ”Why, you see, the Captain's last c.o.xswain slipped his cable a few months ago, and as I was one of the Captain's oldest s.h.i.+pmates, and he knew he could trust me, he has appointed me, and I never wish to serve under a better captain.” Having purchased a few other articles with Farmer c.o.c.ks' five-pound note, which Toby Kiddle suggested I should find useful, we chartered a wherry to go to the frigate.

Among other things I got two or three pounds of tobacco. ”You see, Mr Burton, if you deal it out now and then to the men, it will show them that you have not forgotten them; and though you are on the quarter-deck, that you are not proud, as some youngsters show themselves, but still have a kindly feeling towards them.” I gladly followed his advice. As we approached the ”Orion,” and I observed her handsome hull, her well-squared yards, and her trim and gallant appearance, I felt proud of belonging to so fine a frigate. The boatswain's whistle was piping shrilly as we went up the side, and as my eye fell on the person who was sounding it, I had an idea that I recollected him. I asked Toby who he was. ”Your old friend, Bill King,” he said. ”I wanted to see whether you would remember him; I am glad you do. It is a good sign when old friends are not forgotten.”

While Kiddle got my chest up, and paid the boatman, I went and reported myself to Mr Schank as come on board; and very proud I felt as I stepped on the quarter-deck in my bran-new mids.h.i.+pman's uniform. The First-Lieutenant, who was stumping on his wooden leg here and there with active movements, watching the proceedings of the various gangs of men at work in different ways, stopped when he saw me and smiled kindly. He had grown thinner, if not taller, since I last saw him, and looked somewhat like the scathed trunk of a once lofty poplar, battered and torn by a hundred tempests.

”You know the ways of a s.h.i.+p, Ben, pretty well, but as you are still somewhat small, I have asked Mr Oldershaw--one of the mates--to stand your friend, and he will give you a help also in navigation. And, Ben, mind, do not you be ashamed of asking him anything you want to know.

You may live a long time on board s.h.i.+p, and still learn nothing about seamans.h.i.+p, if you do not keep your eyes open, and try to get others to explain what you do not understand.” As Mr Schank spoke, he beckoned to a grey-headed old mate who just then came on deck. ”This is the youngster I spoke to you about, Mr Oldershaw,” he said. ”You will have an eye on him, and I hope you will be able to give a good report of his behaviour.” I naturally looked up at my protector's countenance, and was well-satisfied with the expression I saw on it. He soon afterwards took me down below, and on my way told me that I was to be in his watch, and that if I did not become a good seaman before the cruise was up, it should not be his fault.

”You see, Ben, I feel an interest in you on many accounts. I entered before the mast, and was placed on the quarter-deck, much as you may be said to have been, and was also left an orphan at an early age. I have not been very fortunate as to promotion; indeed, though my family were very respectable in life, I had no interest. I suppose some day I shall be made a lieutenant, and then I do not expect to rise much higher; but a lieutenant is a gentleman by rank, and though the half-pay is not overwhelming, yet, as I have saved a little prize-money, I shall have enough to keep me till I am placed under the green sward. When I visit some quiet churchyard, I often think how sweet a resting-place it would be after having been knocked about all one's life on the stormy ocean, and after having met with so many disappointments and sorrows.”

I do not know what induced Oldershaw to speak to me in that way, for in truth he was one of the happiest and most contented people on board, so it seemed to me. While others grumbled and growled he never uttered a word of complaint in public, but took everything as it came, in the most good-humoured manner. He was a true friend to me from that time forward, and gave me many a lesson in wisdom as well as in other matters, which was of value to me through life. Tom Twigg who was the only mids.h.i.+pman I knew, received me cordially. There was another young gentleman, who, though he might have been older, was considerably smaller than I was. There was a roguish, mischievous look about the countenance of d.i.c.ky Esse, which showed me at once that I must be prepared for tricks of all sorts from him. Another mate was seated in the berth, to whom Oldershaw introduced me. His name, I found, was Pember. He was a broad-shouldered, rough-looking man, with a suspiciously red countenance and nose, his features marked and scored with small-pox and his eyelids so swelled, that only a portion of the inflamed b.a.l.l.s could be seen. He uttered a low growl as I entered.

”We have kids enough on board already,” he observed. ”They will be sending the nurses with them next.”

”Never fear, Pember, he will soon grow out of his kidhood,” observed Oldershaw. ”We want young blood to supply the place of us oldsters when we slip off the stage.”

”You mean to be placed over our heads, and to trample us down,” said Pember. ”Why there is our skipper. I was a pa.s.sed mids.h.i.+pman when he came to sea, and now he is a post-captain, and I am where I was, and shall be probably to the end of the chapter.”

As soon as I could leave the berth I hurried to the boatswain's cabin, to which Bill King had just then descended. ”You do not remember me, Mr King,” said I, shaking him by the hand, ”but I recollect you, and that you were one of my father's oldest s.h.i.+pmates, and my mother's kindest friend.”

”Bless my heart, Ben, is it you?” he exclaimed, for he really had not at first known me. ”Well, I did not think it. I am glad, that I am, boy, to see you, whom I have dandled in my hands many a time, come to sea on the quarter-deck. You must be an admiral, Ben, some day, that you must.

Those who have sent you to sea must give you a shove upwards while you have still youth and strength and health in your favour. To many, promotion comes too late to do them any real good. When hope is knocked out of a man he is fit for very little in this world, or rather, I should say, nothing!”

”And Mrs King?” I asked; ”how is she?”

”I could not bring her on board again, Ben, but she is very well, and as strong and active as ever. She has set up a coffee-shop in Gosport, which gives her something to do, and will help her to keep the pot boiling till I get back.”

We had a fine run down Channel, and a fair wind carried us along, till we were in the lat.i.tude of the Azores. Our orders were, not to go out of our way, but to do as much damage and harm to the enemy as we conveniently could on our voyage to the South. We consequently kept a bright look-out, in the hopes of falling in with a s.h.i.+p worth capturing.

Several times we had chased vessels, but they either managed to escape us during the night, or proved to be neutrals. At length, however, when about twenty leagues to the north of Teneriffe, we saw a sail standing apparently towards that island. That she was a Spaniard seemed probable, and there were great hopes that she might prove a merchant vessel. We made all sail, hoping to overhaul her before the sun went down, but she was a fast craft, and kept well ahead of us. Hour after hour pa.s.sed by. All the gla.s.ses on board were constantly turned towards her. Great doubts at length began to be entertained of our capturing her after all. In our berth, especially, some of the young gentlemen were ready to sell their expected share of the prize-money, while others of more sanguine temperament were not unwilling to buy. d.i.c.ky Esse, especially, wanted to purchase my share.

”What will you give, Esse?” I asked, not, however, making up my mind that the transaction was a very wise one.

”Ten s.h.i.+llings would be handsome, but I have no objections to give you thirty. She is very likely to be in ballast, and we are more likely still not to catch her, so that you at all events will be the gainer of thirty s.h.i.+llings.”

”I should not object to the thirty s.h.i.+llings, but if we take her I may possibly get thirty pounds, and more than that if she is a richly-laden craft.”

”Don't have anything to do with the business, Ben,” exclaimed Oldershaw.