Part 31 (1/2)

”Within a month, Bob.”

”And you're growing such a tall fellow, they won't keep you much longer in the captain's gig, I expect: I shall be sorry for that. So Master Tommy Dott is in another sc.r.a.pe.”

”How?--I heard nothing of it.”

”No, because it's only within this half-hour that he's got in it.”

”Tell me.”

”Why, sir, Mr Culpepper had fallen fast asleep on the gunroom table, under the skylight, which, as you know, is always open, and his head had fallen back, and his mouth was wide open: there was no other officer in the gun-room except Mr Culpepper: and Tommy Dott, who perceived him, asked Timothy Jenkins, the maintop-man, to give him a quid of tobacco; well, Jenkins takes it out of his cheek, red-hot, as you may suppose, and hands it to Master Tommy, who takes his perpendicular very accurately, and drops the quid into the purser's open mouth.

”Mr Culpepper was almost choked, but after a terrible coughing, the quid comes up again; notwithstanding, he turns as sick as a dog, and is obliged to run to the basin in his cabin. Well, sir, as soon as he comes out again, he goes up under the half deck, and inquires of the sentry who it was that did it; and the sentry, who is that sulky fellow, Martin, instead of knowing nothing about it, says directly, it was Master Tommy; and now there's a formal complaint made by Mr Culpepper on the quarter-deck, and Master Tommy will get it as sure as a gun.”

”He don't know how to play a trick,” replied I; ”he is always found out and punished: the great point is, not to be discovered--that's the real pleasure in playing a trick.”

”Well, you certainly do manage well, Master Keene; but I think it's almost time you left them off now, you're getting an oldster. Why, you must be seventeen, sir?”

”Yes, Bob, not very far from it.”

”Well, I suppose I must say Mister Keene for the future.”

”You may call be what you like, Bob; you have been a good friend to me.”

”Well, sir, I only hope that Captain Delmar will make you a post-captain, as he says, and that you'll get a fine frigate, and I'll be your c.o.xswain; but that's a long way to look to, and we shan't have any more councils of war on the gangway then.”

”No; but we may in the cabin, Cross.”

”A large sail on the starboard bow,” cried the look-out man forward.

”A large sail on the starboard bow,” reported the mate of the watch.

My gla.s.s was on the capstern, and I ran for it, and went forward to examine the vessel, although my duty as signal mids.h.i.+pman was ended at sunset.

”What do you make of it, Mr Keene?” said the officer of the watch.

”I think she is a man-of-war; but it is so dark, that I cannot make her out very clearly.”

”Is she standing this way?”

”Yes, sir, under top-sails and top-gallant-sails, I think.”

The officer of the watch went down to report to the captain, who had not yet turned into his cot. Captain Delmar had been informed that a Dutch frigate was expected at the island, but not until the following month; still we had no reason to suppose that there were any of our frigates down in these lat.i.tudes, except those lying in the harbour at Curacao.

The wind was light, about a three knot breeze, and there being no moon till after twelve o'clock, it was very difficult to make out what she was. Some said she was a two-decked vessel. The captain went down to look at his private signals for the night, and before he came up I was all ready with the lanterns.

”Two lights over one in a triangle; be quick, Mr Keene.”

”Aye, aye, sir,” replied I.

The lights were soon hoisted at the peak, but as they could not well be seen by the other vessel, as we were standing towards her, we went about and hove to across her hawse. For a quarter of an hour she continued to stand towards us without noticing the signals; at last the captain said, ”They must be all asleep on board of the vessel.”