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Crown and Anchor

by John C. Hutcheson · English · Gutenberg #24916 · 511,911 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Crown and Anchor

Author: John C. Hutcheson

Illustrator: John B. Greene


        
Release date: March 25, 2008 [eBook #24916]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/24916

Credits: Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CROWN AND ANCHOR ***




Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England




Crown and Anchor, by John Conroy Hutcheson.

________________________________________________________________________
This book is by a really good contemporary authority on how vessels of
the Royal Navy were managed in the late nineteenth century, therefore
every page rings true.  Some of the best parts are quite early in the
book, when our hero and his ship go to investigate a sinking wreck in
the Bay of Biscay, which had been reported to them by a French warship
they had encountered.

The vessel is sent on to other stations, and in particular to the China
one, where several notable incidents occur.  This book is a very good
yarn, and it makes a very good audiobook.

________________________________________________________________________
CROWN AND ANCHOR, BY JOHN CONROY HUTCHESON.



CHAPTER ONE.

AN OLD SEA-LION.

"Hullo, Dad!"  I cried out, stopping abruptly in front of the red
granite coloured Reform Club, down the marble steps of which a
queer-looking old gentleman was slowly descending.  "Who is that funny
old fellow there?  He's just like that `old clo'' man we saw at the
corner of the street this morning, only that he hasn't got three hats
on, one on top of another, the same as the other chap had!"

We were walking along Pall Mall on our way from Piccadilly to Whitehall,
where my father intended calling in at the Admiralty to put in a sort of
official appearance on his return to England after a long period of
foreign service; and Dad was taking advantage of the opportunity to show
me a few of the sights of London that came within our ken, everything
being strange to me, for I had never set foot in the metropolis before
the previous evening, when mother and I had come up by a late train from
the little Hampshire village where we lived, to meet father on his
arrival and welcome him home.

Under these circumstances, therefore, as might reasonably have been
expected, our halts had been already frequent and oft to satisfy the
cravings of my wondering fancy; and Dad must have been tired of
answering my innumerable questions and inquiries ere half our journey
had been accomplished.

He was very good-tempered and obliging, however, and bore with me
patiently, giving me all the information in his power concerning the
various persons and objects that attracted my attention, and never
"turning nasty" at my insatiable curiosity.

So now, as heretofore, obedient to my bidding, he turned to look in the
direction to which I pointed.

"Where's your friend, the funny old fellow you spoke of, my boy?" he
said kindly, though half-quizzingly.  "I don't see him, Jack."

"Why, there he is, right opposite to us, Dad!"  I exclaimed.  "He's
coming down the steps from that doorway there, and is quite close to us
now!"

"Oh! that's your friend, Jack, eh?" said father, glancing in his turn at
the old gentleman who had caught my eye.  "Let me see if I can make him
out for you."

The old fellow was not one whom an ordinary observer would style a grand
personage, or think worthy of notice in any way, very probably; and yet,
there was something about him which irresistibly attracted my attention
making me wonder who he was and want to know all about him.  Boy though
I was, and new to London and London life, I was certain, I'm sure I
can't tell why, that he must be "somebody."

A short broad-shouldered man was he, with iron-grey hair, and a very
prominent nose that was too strongly curved to be called aquiline, and
which, with his angular face, equally tanned to a brick-dust hue from
exposure to wind and weather, gave him a sort of eagle-like look, an
impression that was supported by his erect bearing and air of command;
albeit, sixty odd years or more must have rolled over his head, and his
great width of chest, as he moved downwards throwing out his long arms,
made his thick-set figure seem stumpier than it actually was, though,
like most sailors of the old school, there was no denying the fact, as
Dad said subsequently, that he was "broad in the beam and Dutch built
over all!"

Nature had, undoubtedly, done much for the old gentleman, but art
little, so far as his personal appearance was concerned; for nothing
could have been more quaint and out of keeping with Pall Mall and its
fashionable surroundings than his eccentric costume.

The upper part of his person was habited in a rough shooting-jacket,
considerably the worse for wear, such as a farmer or gamekeeper might
have donned in the country, away from the busy haunts of men, when out
in the coverts or engaged thinning the preserves; while his lower
extremities rejoiced in a yet shabbier pair of trousers, whose shortness
for their wearer did not tend to enhance their artistic effect.

To complete the picture, his bushy head of iron-grey hair was surmounted
by an old beaver hat that had once been white, but which inexorable Time
had mellowed in tone, and whose nap, having been brushed up the wrong
way, against the grain, frizzed out around its circumference like a
furze bush, making it resemble the "fretful porcupine" spoken of by the
immortal Shakespeare.

His whole appearance was altogether unique for a West-end thoroughfare
in the height of the season; and, the more especially, too, at that time
of day, when dandies of the first water were sauntering listlessly along
the shady side of the pavement ogling the gorgeously-attired ladies who
rolled by in their stately barouches drawn by prancing horses that must
have cost fortunes, and on whose boxes sat stately coachmen and
immaculate footmen clad in liveries beyond price, "Solomon in all his
glory" not approaching their radiant magnificence!

Emerging as he did, however, from the Reform Club, the old gentleman's
unconventional "rig-out" bore testimony to the incontrovertible fact
that, no matter how "advanced" his principles may have become from the
teachings of Cobden, and the example of Peel, he had not allowed his
political convictions to revolutionise his original ideas on the subject
of dress.

Nor was this the only peculiarity noticeable about the queer-looking old
fellow.

He was coming down the steps of the club-house, while Dad and I looked
at him, so slowly that his dilatory rate of progression conveyed the
impression that he was either a martyr to corns or suffering from a
recent attack of the gout; feeling his way carefully with one foot first
before bringing along its fellow, prior to adventuring the next step,
just as my baby sister, a little toddlekin of six, used to go up and
downstairs.

This, of course, was not so remarkable in itself, but as he descended
thus, crab-fashion, to the level of the pavement where Dad and I stood
observing him, my eyes grew wide with wonder at the enormous handfuls of
snuff he took--not pinches, such as I had seen snuff-takers sniff up
from the backs of their hands many a time before, without bestowing a
thought on the action.

Oh, no, nothing of the sort!

They were actual handfuls that he extracted from his waistcoat pocket,
as I could not help noticing, on account of his roomy shooting-jacket
being wide open and thrown back; the old prodigal scooping up the
fragrant dust in his palm, and then doubling his fist and shoving it up
his nostrils with a violent snort of inhalement, after which he
proceeded to blow his red nose with another loud report, like that of a
blunderbuss going off.  This was accompanied by the flourish of a
brightly coloured pocket-handkerchief, whose vivid hue approximated
closely to the general tint of his cheeks and eagle-like beak, and which
he held loosely, ready for action, in his disengaged left hand; for, his
right was ever at work oscillating between the magazine of snuff in his
deep waistcoat pocket and the nasal promontory that consumed it with
almost rhythmical regularity, sniff and snort and resonant trumpet blast
of satisfaction succeeding each other in systematic sequence, as the
veteran came down the stairway leisurely, step by step.

It all appeared to me very comical; but, I did not laugh at the old man
as another youngster might very pardonably have done, without any
thought of mocking or making fun of him.

To tell the truth, he seemed to me to be so out of place there that I
was actually pained on his account, believing, in my innocent ignorance,
that he had unhappily made a mistake in going up to the members'
entrance of the grand-looking club-house; and that the fat hall-porter
in scarlet, who now stood without the swinging glass doors of the
portal, had warned him thence, ordering him, so it struck my fancy, to
go down below by way of the area steps, to the basement of the
establishment, where his business would probably rather lie with the
lower menials of the mansion than with such an august personage as he,
one who acted solely as the janitor to the great ones of the earth
possessing the password of the club!

Yes, this was the thought uppermost in my mind; and, as the
queer-looking old gentleman continued to hobble downwards I began to
wonder whether the scullions in the kitchen, whom I could dimly discern
beneath the street level and behind a screen of iron railings, would
not, likewise, turn up their noses at the sight of such a seedy
individual, telling him they had no rags or bones or bottles for him
to-day.

"Poor old fellow!"  I said to Dad, uttering my reflections aloud.  "What
could have made him act so foolishly as to go up there only to be turned
away by that bumptious porter?  How very shabby he is, Dad; and with
such a noble face, too!  May I give him that shilling you made me a
present of this morning to buy himself some more snuff?  He must have
exhausted all he had in his waistcoat pocket by now; he does use it so
extravagantly!"

"Hush, Jack, he may hear you!" whispered my father, dropping his voice
to a lower key than mine, while the amused expression on his face
changed to one of pleased recognition.  "Why, it's the old Admiral!  I
see he's as great a snuff-taker as ever, and he seems to be even less
careful than he used to be about his clothes; though, I must say, he
never was a dandy at the best of times!"

At the moment Dad spoke, the old gentleman set his right foot gingerly
on the pavement in front of us, his left following a second later, when
the veteran signalised his reaching a sound anchorage with a final blast
from his nasal trumpet and a fine flourish of his bandana, which nearly
knocked out my nearest eye and set me sneezing from the loose particles
of snuff disseminated into the surrounding air.

This gave my father the opportunity he wanted.

"How do you do, Admiral?" said he, drawing himself up and raising his
hat in salute, while still holding me by the hand.  "I don't know if you
remember me, sir, but I cannot forget you and your kindness to me of
old, especially in getting me my last appointment.  I'm glad to see you
looking so well, sir!"

The old fellow stared at Dad with his gimlet grey eyes, looking him
through and through, knitting his brows, and sniffing and snorting at a
fine rate.

"Eh--what, who the deuce are you?" he ejaculated in short, jerky accents
after a pause, evidently puzzled for the nonce, and, in his agitation,
another fistful of snuff got arrested half-way between his waistcoat
pocket and expectant nose, the consequence of which was that more than
half was spilt on the front of his shirt, and already snuff-stained coat
collar.  "Eh, what?  I think I know your face, but I'm hanged if I can
recollect your name, sir!"

Dad smiled, and, whether this supplied a missing link to memory's aid or
no, the next instant a gleam of intelligence flashed across the
veteran's weatherbeaten face making him look so animated that he seemed
a different person.

Shoving out his horny fist, forgetful of the balance of snuff contained
therein, and thus causing me to sneeze again, as well as nearly blinding
me for a second time, the rough old sailor caught hold of my father's
disengaged hand with a grip of iron, shouting a welcome in his hearty,
loud voice which could have been heard across Pall Mall; for it was as
breezy as the sea, echoing in ringing accents whose cordial tones I can
almost fancy I now hear, like the surf of breakers breaking in the
distance on some rock-bound shore.

"Bless my soul, Vernon!  Is that you, my lad, hey?" he roared out,
making a dandified exquisite, who was just then lounging past us, jump
into the gutter and soil his polished patent leathers in nervous alarm.
"Glad to see me, you said?  Stuff and nonsense, you rascal--you're not
half so pleased as I am to clap my eyes on you again!  Gad, you young
scamp, why, it seems only the other day when I sent you to the
mast-head, you remember, when you were a middy with me in the _Neptune_?
It was for cutting off the tail of my dog Ponto, and you said--though
that was all moonshine, of course--you did it to cure him of fits!  By
George! what a terrible young scapegrace you were, to be sure, Vernon,
always in mischief from sunrise to gunfire, and always at loggerheads
with my first lieutenant and the master, poor old Cosine!"



CHAPTER TWO.

THE ADMIRAL SPEAKS HIS MIND.

I had been fidgeting all the time the old gentleman was speaking
squeezing Dad's hand in order to attract his attention and make him tell
me who his old friend was; but, for the moment, he was too much taken up
with the veteran's hearty greeting to give ear to me.

At last, however, in response to another squeeze of my hand, he bent
down towards me, expecting, no doubt, some such inquiry.

"Who is it, Dad?"  I whispered, dying with curiosity.  "Who is it?"

"Admiral Sir Charles Napier, Jack," he replied, under his breath, "late
commander-in-chief of the Baltic Fleet."

I doffed my cap at once, for I had often heard my father mention the
name of the gallant old sailor before, though I hardly expected to see
him in such a guise.

"Hullo, who've we got here?" cried the Admiral, noticing my action and
patting my head in recognition of the salute with his snuffy palm.
"Your son, Vernon, eh?"

"Yes, Admiral," said Dad, "this is my boy, Jack."

"Ha! humph!  He's a smart-looking youngster, Vernon, and the very image
of what you were at his age!  How old is he?"

"Nearly fourteen now, sir," answered my father.  "I'm afraid, though,
Master Jack is rather a small boy for his years, being short and
thick-set."

"Not a serious fault that, Vernon.  He'll, be able to go aloft more
nimbly than any of those lamp-post sort of chaps with long legs, who
always trip themselves up in the ratlines.  Look at me, youngster, I'm
not a big man, and yet I've not been the worse sailor on that account, I
think!"

"True, Sir Charles," replied Dad with a sly twinkle in his eye, "but
we're not all of the same tough stock and `ready--ay, ready' on all
occasions when wanted, though we might be willing enough, to do our
duty."

"Gammon, Vernon, none of your blarney!" growled out the old sea-lion,
pretending to be angry, albeit he looked pleased at Dad's covert
allusion to the Napier motto, which he had always endeavoured to act up
to.  "I'm sick of false compliments, old shipmate.  I've had plenty of
them and to spare from those mealy-mouthed, false-hearted, longshore
lubbers in there!"

"What!" exclaimed my father, as the Admiral jerked his head with an
expression of contempt in the direction of the club-house he had just
left--"you don't mean to say, sir--"

"Ay! but I do mean to say they're a lot of confounded hypocrites, by
George!" roared out the old sailor, his face flushing to almost a purple
hue, while he snatched at another handful of snuff from his waistcoat
pocket, and sniffed and snorted like a grampus.  "Why, you'll hardly
believe it, Vernon!  But, only a couple of years ago, when I was
starting for the Baltic, and in high favour with the ministry, those
miserable time-servers in there gave a public dinner in my honour in
that very club; and now, by George! because things did not go all right,
and I wasn't able to smash-up the Russian fleet as everybody expected I
would do, and so I would have done, too, by George! if I'd been allowed
my own way, the mean-spirited parasites almost cut me to a man--to a
man, by George!"

"It's a rascally shame, sir," said my father, getting hot with righteous
indignation in sympathy at this scurvy treatment of one whom he had
served under, and looked upon as an honoured chief; while I felt so
angry myself, that I should have liked to have gone up the steps of the
club-house there and then, and dragged down from his proud post the fat,
red-liveried porter who was looking down on the veteran from the top of
the stairway, regarding that pampered menial as the cause and occasion
of the slight of which he complained.  "Never mind, though, Admiral! you
can well afford to treat their mean conduct with the contempt it
deserves; for everybody whose opinion is worth anything knows that Sir
Charles Napier won his laurels as a brave and skilful commander long
before the Reform Club was founded or the Crimean war thought of.
Believe me, sir, history will yet do you justice."

"Ay! when I've gone to my last muster," growled out the old fellow
huskily, in a sad tone, which sent a responsive chill to my heart.
"But, that won't be your fault, Vernon.  Thank you, my lad, I know
you're not talking soft solder, so as to get to wind'ard of me, like
those fellows in there.  Longshore lubbers like those never recollect
what a man may have done for his country in times gone by.  They live
only in the present; and, if a chap chances to make a mistake, as the
best of us will sometimes, they fall on him like a pack of curs on a
rat, and worry him to death, by George!"

"The idle gossip of the clubs need not affect you, sir," replied my
father consolingly.  "Not a man in England of any sense is ignorant of
the fact that it is none of your fault that the Baltic Fleet was sent
out on a wild-goose chase and failed to capture Cronstadt and annihilate
the Russian ships inside that stronghold; though, I believe, you would
have astonished old Nick if you had been allowed a free hand!"

"Humph!  I don't know about that, Vernon, but I'd have tried to," said
the Admiral, smiling.  The next minute, however, he knit his shaggy
eyebrows and looked so fierce that the thought occurred to me that I
would not have liked just then to be in the position of defaulter
brought up before him on his quarter-deck and awaiting condign
punishment; for, he went on growling away angrily, as the recollections
of the past surged up in his mind.  "By George! it makes my blood boil,
Vernon, as I think of it now.  How could I succeed out there when those
nincompoops at home in the Ministry did not want me to do anything but
play their miserable shilly-shally game of drifting with the tide and
doing nothing!  I was told I wasn't to do this and I wasn't to do that,
while all the time that cute old fox the Czar Nicholas was completing
his preparations.  Why, would you believe it, Vernon, there wasn't a
single long-winded despatch sent out to me by the Cabinet that did not
countermand the one that came before?"

Dad laughed cheerily, trying to make the old sailor forget his wrongs.

"Even the immortal Nelson would have been unable to do anything under
such conditions, Sir Charles," he said, as the Admiral paused to take
breath, sniffing up another handful of snuff with an angry snort.
"Those jacks in office at home are always interfering with things they
know nothing about.  How can they possibly have the means at their
command like the man on the scene of action, one whom they themselves
have selected for his supposed capacity?  But, they will interfere, sir.
They have always done so; and always will, I suppose!"

"Gad, you put it better than I could, Vernon.  I didn't think you such a
smart sea lawyer," said the old Admiral, rather grimly, not
over-pleased, I think, at Dad's taking up the burthen of his grievances.
"Know nothing, you say?  Of course they know nothing, the government,
hang it! was a cabinet of nincompoops, I tell you--Aberdeen, Graham and
the whole lot of 'em!  If they could have mustered a single statesman
amongst 'em who had pluck enough to tell Russia at the outset that if
she laid hands on Turkey we should have considered it an ultimatum,
there would never have been any war at all--the Emperor Nicholas
confessed as much on his death-bed.  It was all want of backbone that
did it--not of the English nation, thank God! but of the government or
ministry of the time.  Some governments we've had, ay, and since then,
too, Vernon, have been the curse of our country!"

"Ay, Admiral," responded my father, heartily, "I know that well!"

"Yes, they were all shilly-shally from first to last," continued the old
sailor, warming up to his theme.  "Why, when the Russians actually fired
on our flag--the Union Jack of England, sir, that had never previously
been insulted with impunity--they actually blamed me for returning the
fire, and recalled me for it!  I tell you what it is, Vernon, they were
all a pack of pusillanimous time-servers, frightened at their own
shadows; and, between you and me and the bedpost, that chap, Jimmy
Graham, our precious late First Lord of the Admiralty, knew as much
about a ship as a Tom cat does of logarithms, by George!"

Dad smiled at his vehemence, and I chuckled audibly; the Admiral's
simile seeming very funny to me.

The old sailor patted me on the head approvingly.

"Ay, you may well laugh, youngster," said he, looking very fierce with
his knitted eyebrows, though speaking to me good-naturedly enough.  "The
whole business would make a cat laugh were it not so humiliating, by
George!  But, avast there! let us drop it; for we've had enough of it by
now and to spare.  Things, though, were very different, Vernon, when you
and I sailed together.  I tell you what it is, my lad, the service is
going to the devil, that's what it is!"

"By Jove! you're right, sir, I quite agree with you there," chorused Dad
with much effusion, speaking evidently from the bottom of his heart.
"Everything is changed, Admiral, to what we were accustomed to in the
good old times when I had the luck to serve under you; and, I'm afraid,
sir, we'll never see such times again.  There's no chance for a poor
fellow like me nowadays at the Admiralty as I know to my cost!  No one
has an opening given him unless he's acquainted with some bigwig with a
handle to his name, or knows the Secretary's niece, or the chief
messenger's aunt.  Otherwise, he may as well whistle for the moon as ask
for a ship!"

"That's true enough, Vernon, by George!" said the Admiral, with equal
heat.  "Interest with the Board is everything in these times, and
personal merit nothing!  You may be the smartest sailor that ever trod a
quarter-deck and they will look askance at you at Whitehall; but, only
get some Lord Tom Noddy to back up your claims on an ungrateful country
or show those Admiralty chaps that you know a Member of Parliament or
two, and can control a division in the House of Commons, then, by
George! it is wonderful, Vernon, how suddenly the great Mister Secretary
of the Board will recognise your previously unknown abilities and other
good qualities to which he has hitherto been blind, and how anxious the
First Lord will be to promote you--eh, Vernon, you rascal?  Ho! ho! ho!"

Dad joined in the hearty roar of laughter, with which the Admiral ended
his sarcastic comments, the recital of which had apparently eased his
mind and banished the last lingering recollections of the ill-treatment
he had received at the hands of the government; for the old sailor now
dismissed the subject, going on to talk about old shipmates and other
matters as they sauntered onwards along Pall Mall, the Admiral hobbling
on one side of Dad and I on the other, holding his hand, listening
eagerly all the while to their animated conversation and taking in every
word of it.  I confess, however, I could not understand all their
allusions to old times and byegone events afloat and ashore, many of the
names and incidents mentioned in their talk being altogether unfamiliar
to my ears.

"Where are you off to now, Vernon?" inquired Admiral Napier, stopping to
take snuff again when we arrived at the last lamp-post at the corner
abutting on Waterloo Place.  "If you're not otherwise engaged, come back
with me and have lunch at the club, you and the youngster."

"Thank you very much, Admiral," returned Dad, "I would be only to glad,
but, to tell the truth, I'm bound for the Admiralty."

"Ah! you want to see Mister Secretary just after he has finished _his_
lunch!" said the knowing old fellow, giving Dad a dig in the ribs.  "Sly
dog!  I suppose you think you'll have a better chance of working to
win'ard of him then?"

"That's it, Admiral," said my father, laughing.  "There's no good in a
fellow trying to bamboozle you, sir."

"No, by George!" chuckled the old fellow, mightily pleased at this
tribute to his "cuteness", "you'd have to get up precious early in the
morning to take me in as you know from old experience of me, Vernon!
But, what the deuce are you going to Whitehall to kick your heels there
for?  They'll only keep you waiting an hour in that infernal
waiting-room, and then tell you the Secretary's gone for the day, or
some other bouncer, just to get rid of you.  I know their dirty tricks--
hang 'em!  What d'you want, eh?"

"Well, sir, I thought I might get something in one of the dockyards,"
answered Dad, frankly.  "I heard last night of there being an
appointment vacant at Devonport, and I was going to apply for it."

"Any interest, eh?"

"Not a scrap, Admiral," replied my father.  "All my friends are dead or
out of favour with the powers that be, I'm afraid now."

"Then you might as well apply for a piece of the moon," said the Admiral
in his curt, dogmatic way; "and if that's all, Vernon, that is taking
you to Whitehall, you had far better save your shoe leather and come
back with me to the club."

"Thank you very much, Admiral, but I must really say `no' again,"
rejoined Dad, touched by his kindly pertinacity.  "I confess, sir,
though, that the object of my journey to the Admiralty is not altogether
on my own account personally, for I wished to introduce this youngster
of mine here to the Secretary, and thought it a good thing to kill the
two birds with one stone."

"Humph!" growled the old Admiral.  "D'you think he never saw a boy
before, eh, Vernon?  I'm sure there's a lump too many of the young
rascals knocking about already!"

Dad smiled at the quizzical look and sly wink with which this inquiry
was accompanied, the Admiral twisting his head on one side as he spoke
and looking just like a crested cockatoo!

"No, Sir Charles, not exactly," he replied, putting his arm round my
neck caressingly.  "However, for all that, even so great a man as Mr
Secretary might not know as good a boy as my son, Jack, here!"

I tell you what, I did feel proud when Dad said that, though I could not
help flushing up like a girl, and had to hold down my head to hide it.

"Yes, yes, quite right, Vernon, quite right, the sentiment does you
honour, and him.  I'm sure, though, I meant no offence to the little
chap," said the rough, old sea-dog hastily, afraid of having hurt our
feelings.  "But, all the same, I don't see what you want to show him to
that Jack-in-office for?  By George, the sight of his ugly phiz can't do
any good to the youngster!"

"No, sir, possibly not, though I'm told he isn't such a bad-looking
fellow," answered Dad, laughing again at the Admiral's determination to
get to the bottom of the matter.  "The truth, sir, is I want to get this
youngster nominated for a naval cadetship before he oversteps the age
limit.  The boy is dying to follow in my footsteps; but, though I have
tried to dissuade him from it as much as I can, and the idea of his
going to sea makes his poor mother shudder, still, seeing that he seems
bent upon it, neither she nor I wish to thwart his inclination."

"Whee-ugh!" whistled the other through his teeth as he proceeded to take
three or four enormous pinches of snuff in rapid succession from his
waistcoat pocket and losing half of each pinch ere it reached his nose,
the Admiral generously scattering it over the lapels of his coat and
shirt front on the way.  "Why the deuce didn't you tell me all that
before, my dear Vernon, instead of backing and filling like a Dutch
galliot beating to win'ard?"

"I--I--" hesitated my father, who had refrained from telling him before
because he hated asking a favour of anyone whom he regarded in the light
of a friend.  "I--I--didn't like to trouble you, sir."

"Bosh, Vernon!  You know well enough it's never a trouble to me to do
anything for an old shipmate," said the old fellow, heartily, and,
putting his hand on my shoulder, he wheeled me round so as to look me in
the face as I lifted up my head and gazed at him admiringly on his
addressing me directly, "so, my young shaver, you want to be a sailor,
eh?"

"Yes, sir," I replied, "I love the sea, and I wouldn't be anything else
for the world!"

"Ha, humph!" growled the veteran, who, I believe, was as fond of his
profession at heart, in spite of his grumbles, as anyone who ever went
afloat.  "You'd better be a tinker or a tailor, my boy, than go to sea!
It's a bad trade nowadays!  What put it into your head, eh?"

"It comes naturally to him," said Dad, seeing me puzzled how to answer
the question.  "I suppose it must run in the blood, sir."

"Humph, like my gout!" jerked out Sir Charles, sharply, as if he just
then felt a twinge of his old complaint, and, turning to me again, he
asked as abruptly, "D'ye think you can pass for cadet, youngster--know
your three R's--readin', 'ritin' and 'rithmetic, eh?"

"Yes, sir, I think so," said I grinning, having heard this old joke
before from Dad many a time, "I shall try my best, sir.  I can't say
more than that, sir, can I?"

"No, by George, no, youngster, that answer shows me, my boy, that you
are your father's son!" cried the Admiral heartily, clapping me on the
back as if I were a man, and making me sneeze with the loose snuff which
he shook off from his coat as he did so.  "I said you were a chip of the
old block the moment I first clapped eyes on you, and now I'm certain of
it!  Vernon, you shall have a nomination for the youngster.  I think
I've got sufficient interest at the Admiralty left to promise you that,
at all events!"

"Oh, thank you, Admiral," replied Dad, while I looked my gratitude, not
being able to speak, "thank you for your great kindness to me and the
boy."

"Pooh, pooh, stuff and nonsense, my lad!  It's little enough to do for
an old shipmate and brother officer," muttered the good-hearted old
fellow, quite overcome with confusion at our thanks, as Dad wrung one of
his hands and I caught hold of the other.  "I've got an appointment to
meet the First Lord this very afternoon, as luck would have it, so I'll
mention the matter to him, and I've no doubt the youngster'll get his
nomination in a day or two, at the outside.  By-the-bye where are you
stopping in London?  You haven't told me that yet."

My father, thereupon, gave him our address.

"All right, Vernon," said the veteran, shoving Dad's card along with the
snuff in his waistcoat pocket, "I'll see to the matter without fail.
Good-bye, now, Vernon, good-bye, young shaver, I hope you'll make as
good a sailor and smart an officer as your father before you!"

With these parting words and a kindly nod to me the old Admiral toddled
off across Waterloo Place to the Senior United Service Club opposite, to
which, I presume, he intended transferring his patronage now that the
Reform had given him the cold shoulder, while Dad and I returned to our
temporary lodgings in Piccadilly to tell mother of our unexpected
meeting and its happy result.  I may here add that I was never fortunate
enough to see the gallant old veteran again, though I heard of him often
afterwards from my father, who told me he always asked how I was getting
on.  Circumstances prevented my meeting him when I was yet in England,
and I was out in China when he died, some four years subsequently to my
making his acquaintance in Pall Mall that morning.

Strange to say, however, the other day, when engaged planning out this
very yarn of my adventures afloat, I chanced to see an advertisement in
one of the Portsmouth papers of an auction about to be held at
Merchiston Hall, near Horndean, where I was informed the Admiral had
resided for many years, and where he spent most of his time farming when
not at sea, before he got mixed up in politics and Parliamentary
matters, as he was in his later days after he was "put on the shelf,"
and hauled down his flag for ay!

Here, the very bed was pointed out to me in which the gallant old sailor
died; a plain, old-fashioned piece of furniture, without any gilding or
meretricious adornment, and honest and substantial like himself.

The house, too, was similarly unpretentious, being a low, one-storied,
verandah--fronted structure, with plenty of room about it, but little
"style" or ornament.  It was, though, picturesquely situated in the
centre of a well-timbered little park and homestead and snugly sheltered
by tall fir trees and a thick shrubbery from all north'ard and easterly
winds, amid the prettiest scenery of Hampshire--wooded heights and
pleasant dales, with coppice and hedgerow, and here and there a
red-roofed old farmhouse peeping out from the greenery forming its
immediate surroundings.

"Poor old Charley Napier!" as he was affectionately entitled by those
who served under his flag--officers and men alike, the latter especially
almost idolising him for he was ever a good friend to them.

He now sleeps his last sleep in the churchyard of Catherington, where he
lies safe at anchor, hard by the dwelling where he lived when in the
flesh.

Here his tomb may be seen by the curious under the shelter of the early
Norman church, dedicated to Saint Catherine, from which circumstance the
village takes its name.

It is a fine old building, this church, dating back to the time of the
Crusades, when heroes as gallant as Admiral Sir Charles Napier besieged
Sidon and captured Acre--like as he himself did some eight centuries
later, long prior to his unsuccessful mission to the Baltic, the
somewhat inglorious termination of which, unfortunately, clouded his
naval reputation and ended his career afloat!



CHAPTER THREE.

I GET NOMINATED FOR A NAVAL CADETSHIP.

"`Sharp's the word and quick the motion,' eh, Jack?" said my father,
using his favourite phrase, when the post next morning brought him a
letter from the Admiralty in an oblong blue envelope, inscribed "On Her
Majesty's Service," in big letters, stating that I had been nominated to
a cadetship in the Royal Navy.  "I knew old Charley would be as good as
his word!"

"Hurrah!"  I shouted, throwing my cap in the air, and forgetting all
about a long-promised visit to the Zoological Gardens for which we were
just starting, "Now I shall be able to go to sea at last!"

Dad seemed to share my enthusiasm; but my mother, I recollect well, ay,
as if it had occurred but yesterday, put her arms round me and cried as
if her heart would break.

Presently, when she had somewhat regained her composure, Dad, comforting
her with the assurance that she was not going to lose me all at once, it
not being probable that I would be drowned or slain or otherwise
immolated on the altar of my country immediately on entering the navy,
which appeared to be her first conviction, we all began talking the
matter over; and then Dad proceeded to read over again the official
communication he had received, commenting on the same as he went over
it.

"Hullo, Jack!" he observed, on reaching the end of the formal document,
"those red-tape chaps a' Whitehall haven't given you much time to
prepare for your examination!"

The mention of this damped my ardour a bit, I can tell you!

"Oh, I quite forgot that!"  I exclaimed lugubriously.  "When have I got
to go up for exam., Dad?"

"The `first Wednesday in August,' my boy--so says this letter at all
events."

"Good gracious me!" ejaculated my mother, again breaking into our
conversation after a brief pause, during which she must have gone
through an abstract mental calculation.  "Why, that will be barely a
month from now, my dear!"

"Precisely, this being the third of July," replied Dad drily.  "So
Master Jack will have to stir his stumps if he hopes to pass, for I'm
afraid he's rather shaky in his Euclid."

"Dear, dear!" said mother, throwing up her arms in consternation, "he is
very backward in his history, too!  Would you believe it, he couldn't
recollect when Magna Charta was signed on my asking him the date
yesterday."

"Really?" cried Dad, leaning back in his chair, and bursting into a
hearty laugh at my mother's serious face, "I'm sure, my dear, I could
not tell you the date off-hand myself at the present moment, not if I
were even going to be hanged in default!  Jack knows, though, I'd wager,
when the glorious battle of Trafalgar was fought; and that concerns a
British sailor boy more, I think, than any other event in the whole
history of our plucky little island, save perhaps the defeat of the
grand Armada.  What say you, my boy?"

"Of course, I know the date of the battle of Trafalgar, Dad," I answered
glibly enough, having heard it mentioned too often to have forgotten it
in a hurry; and, besides, I knew Southey's _Life of Nelson_ almost by
heart, it being one of my favourite books and ranking in my estimation
next to _Robinson Crusoe_.  "It was fought, Dad, on the 21st October
1805."

"There, mother, just hear that!" cried Dad, chaffingly.  "Are you not
proud of your boy in blue?  By Jove, he'll set the Thames on fire if he
goes on at that rate!"

"I _am_ proud of him; but I do not wish him to fail," replied mother,
who took things generally _au serieux_; and, turning to me, she said in
her earnest way,--"Dear Jack, I'm afraid you are too confident and do
not attend to your lessons now as you used to do.  Pray, work hard, my
dear boy, for my sake!"

"I will, mother dear, I promise you that," said I, kissing her.  "I
won't get plucked if I can help it."

"That's right, my brave boy, you cannot say more than that," chimed in
Dad, with a pat of approval on my head, as my mother drew me towards her
in mute caress.  "By the way, I tell you what I'll do, Jack.  I was
asking my old friend Captain Gifford the other day about a good naval
tutor for you, and you shall have the assistance of the same `crammer'
he had for his boys if I can get hold of him."

Prior to the year 1858, I may here explain, on a youngster being
nominated to a naval cadetship he was appointed to a sea-going ship at
once, going afloat there and then without any preliminary examination
and the roundabout routine subsequently enjoined, wisely or not, by "My
Lords" when the "competition wallah" system came in vogue.  Unwittingly
I was, thus, one of the first to suffer from the change, the order for
cadets having to pass in certain specified subjects on board the
_Excellent_ before receiving their appointments having been issued
within a comparatively recent period of my getting my nomination.

This proviso, too, I may add, was saddled with the condition that all
cadets in future would have to go through a probationary period of three
months' instruction in seamanship in a training-ship, which was set
apart for the purpose ere they were supposed to have officially joined
"the service," and become liable to be sent to sea.

These regulations, to make an end of my explanations, continue in force
to the present day with very little alteration, the only difference, so
far as I can learn, being that youngsters now have to pass a slightly
"stiffer" examination than I did on entry, and that they have to remain
for two years on probation aboard the _Britannia_ instead of the three
months period which was esteemed sufficient for the "sucking Nelsons" of
my time in the old _Illustrious_.  She was the predecessor of the more
modern training-ship for naval cadets, which turns them out now _au fin
de siecle_, all ready-made, full-blown officers, so to speak; though it
is questionable whether they are any the better sailors than Nelson
himself, Collingwood amongst the older sea captains, or Hornby and Tryon
of a later day.  None of these went through a like course of study, and
yet they knew how to handle ships and manoeuvre fleets without any such
"great advantages" of training!

My moral reflections, though, have little to do with my story, to which
I will now return.

The date of the examination being so perilously near, and my studies
having become somewhat neglected during the long holiday I had spent in
sightseeing in London, my father thought the surer way to secure my
passing would be, as he had said, to procure the aid of a good tutor who
might peradventure succeed in tuning me up to concert pitch in the short
interval allowed me by the patent process of "cramming," which had come
into fashion with the competition craze, more speedily than by any
ordinary mode of imparting instruction.

So, in accordance with his promise, Dad called on his friend Captain
Gifford the same afternoon in quest of the experienced "coach" or
coachman, whom that gentleman had previously recommended, warranted to
possess the ability to drive knowledge into my head at a sufficient rate
to ensure my "weathering," the examiners when I went before them; and,
ere the close of this memorable week in which I was introduced to
Admiral Sir Charles Napier and got my nomination, I was in as high a
state of "cram" as any Strasbourg goose destined to contribute his quota
to a _pate_ of fat livers.

"Dear, dear, my poor boy!" as mother said to me, "what a lot you have to
learn, to be sure!"

My mother was right you will say when you hear all.  I was "a poor boy,"
indeed, and no mistake.

Latin, French, Arithmetic and Algebra, not forgetting my old enemy
Euclid and his compromising propositions, with a synopsis of English
History, and the physical and political geography of the globe, besides
a lot of lesser "ologies," of no interest to anyone save my coach and
myself, but all of which were included in the list of subjects laid down
by the Admiralty as incumbent for every would-be naval cadet to acquire,
were forced into my unfortunate cranium day and night without the
slightest cessation.

The only let off I had were a few hours allowed me for sleep and
refreshment, my hard task-master, the aforesaid coach, an old Cambridge
wrangler, never giving me a moment's respite, insisting, on the
contrary, that he would give _me_ up instead altogether if I once
stopped work!

For the time being I lived in a world of facts and figures, breathing
nothing but dates and exuding mathematical and other data at almost
every pore; so that, by the end of the month I felt myself transformed
into a sort of portable human cyclopaedia, containing a heterogeneous
mass of information of all kinds, as superficial as it was varied.

The knowledge I acquired in this way, however, was only skin deep, so to
to speak, exemplifying the truth of the old adage "lightly come, lightly
go;" for albeit this hot-bed process of imparting learning served its
turn in enabling me to pass the crucial ordeal to which I was subjected,
I verily believe that I could not have answered satisfactorily one tithe
of the questions a fortnight after the dreaded examination was over that
I then grappled successfully.

But this is anticipating matters.

Hot July sweltered to its close ere my tutor was satisfied with the
progress I had made under his care and declared me fit for the fray.

This was on the very last day of the month, and on the following
Tuesday, the 3rd of August, I remember, for it was the very day before
the fateful Wednesday fixed for examination on board the _Excellent_, my
mother, in company with Dad and myself, bade adieu to the sultry
metropolis, of whose stagnant air and blistering pavements, and
red-baked bricks and mortar we were all three heartily tired, journeying
down to Portsmouth by some out-of-the-way route, all round the south
coast, past Brighton and Worthing and Shoreham, which I never afterwards
essayed.

Since then, though I have travelled, more often than I care to count
now, from London to the famous old seaport which is veritably the
nursery of our navy, and whence the immortal Nelson sailed, ninety odd
years ago, to thrash the combined French and Spanish fleets at Trafalgar
and establish England's supremacy afloat while ridding the world of the
tyranny of Napoleon Buonaparte, not a single incident connected with my
first trip thither has escaped my memory.

Yes, I recollect every detail of the journey, from the time of our
leaving Waterloo station to our arrival at the terminus at Landport,
just without the old fortifications that shut in Portsea and the
dockyard, with all its belongings, within a rampart of greenery.  The
noble elms on the summit of the glacis, are now, alas! all cut down and
demolished, but they once afforded a shady walk for miles, making the
dirty moats and squalid houses in their rear, which are now also
numbered, more happily, amongst the things of the past, look positively
picturesque.

I could not forget anything that happened that day; for, then it was
that I saw that dear old sea again which I had loved from the time my
baby eyes first gazed on it, and which I had not now seen for months.

On reaching "ye ancient and loyale toune," as Portsmouth was quaintly
designated by Queen Bess of virginal memory on the occasion of her
visiting the place, our little party, I can well call to mind, put up at
the "Keppel's Head" on the Hard.

This was a hostelry which Dad had been accustomed to patronise when at
the naval college in the dockyard learning all about the new principle
of steam just then introduced into the service before I was "thought
of," as he said, and, no doubt, the place is as well known to young
fellows and old "under the pennant" in these prosaic days of "floating
flat-irons and gimcrack fighting machines," as the "Fountain Inn" in
High Street and the "Blue Posts" at Point were to Peter Simple and Mr
Midshipman Easy in the early part of the century, when, to quote dear
old Dad again, "a ship was a ship, and sailors were seamen and not all
stokers and engineers!"

There was no harbour station then, as now, fronting and affronting
Hardway; no trace of the hideous railway viaduct shutting out all the
foreshore, both of which at present exist in all their respective native
uglinesses!

No; for the upper windows of the old hotel commanded a splendid view of
the whole of the harbour and the roadstead of Spithead beyond, and I
seem to see myself a boy again that August afternoon, looking out over
the picturesque scene in glad surprise.

After our early dinner, Dad pointed out to me the various objects of
interest; the old _Victory_, flagship then as she is now again after an
interval of thirty years or more, during which time she was supplanted
by the _Duke of Wellington_, which she has in time supplanted once more;
the _Illustrious_, the training-ship for naval cadets, near the mouth of
the harbour, where the _Saint Vincent_ is now moored; and the long line
of battered old hulks stretching away in the distance up the stream to
Fareham Creek, the last examples extant of those "wooden walls of old
England" which Dibdin sang and British sailors manned and fought for and
defended to the death, sacrificing their lives for "the honour of the
flag!"

Yes, I remember the name of every ship that Dad then pointed out to me.
I can picture, too, the whole scene, with the tide at the flood and the
sunshine shimmering on the water and the old _Victory_ belching out a
salute in sharp, rasping reports from the guns of her main deck battery,
that darted out their fiery tongues, each in the midst of a round puff
ball of smoke in quick succession, first on the port and then on the
starboard side, until the proper number of rounds had been fired and a
proportionate expenditure of powder effected to satisfy the requirements
of naval etiquette for the occasion, when the saluting ceased, as
suddenly as it began.

The afternoon wore on apace after this, the sun sinking in the west over
Gosport, beyond Priddy's Hard, amid a wealth of crimson and gold that
nearly stretched up to the zenith, lighting up the spars of the ships
and making their hulls glow again with a ruddy radiance while touching
up the brass-work and metal about them with sparks of flame.

Still, I did not tire of standing there at the window of the old
"Keppel's Head," looking out on the harbour in front, with the wherries
plying to and fro and men-of-war's boats going off at intervals with
belated officers to their respective ships.

Until, by-and-by the Warner lightship, afar out at sea beyond Spithead,
and the Nab light beyond her again, could be seen twinkling in the
distance, while the moon presently rose in the eastern sky right over
Fort Cumberland; and then, all at once, there was a sudden flash, which,
coming right in front of me, dazzled my eyes like lightning.

This was followed by a single but very startling "Bang!" that thundered
out from the flagship, which, swinging round with the outgoing ebb tide,
was now lying almost athwart stream, with her high, square stern gallery
overhanging the sloping shore below the hotel, looking as if the old
craft had taken the ground and fired the gun that had startled us as a
signal of distress--so, at least, with the vivid imagination of boyhood,
thought I!

"Goodness gracious me!" exclaimed my mother, almost jumping out of her
chair at the unexpected report and making me jump, too, by her hurried
movement towards the window where I stood, "what is the matter, Jack?"

"Nothing to be alarmed about, my dear," said Dad soothingly to her.  "It
is only the admiral tumbled down the hatchway."

"Dear, dear," replied poor mother in a voice full of the deepest
sympathy, "I hope the old gentleman has not hurt himself much.  He must
have fallen rather heavily!"

Dad roared with laughter at her innocent mistake.

"You'll kill me some day, I think, my dear," said he when he was able to
speak, after having his laugh out.  "I only used an old nautical
expression which you must have heard before, I'm sure.  We always say
that on board ship when the nine-o'clock gun is fired!"

"Oh!" rejoined mother, a little bit crossly at being made fun of.  "I do
wish, Frank, you would explain what you mean next time beforehand,
instead of puzzling people with your old sailor talk, which nobody can
understand!"

"Humph!" said Dad; but, presently, I saw mother put out her hand and
tenderly touch him on the shoulder, as if to tell him that her temporary
tiff had been dispelled, like the smoke from the discharge of the
_Victory's_ last gun, whereat I could hear him whisper under his breath
as he kissed her cheek softly, "All's well that ends well, my dear!"



CHAPTER FOUR.

DOWN AT PORTSMOUTH.

Next morning, ere I seemed to have been asleep five minutes, it came
upon my dreams so suddenly, I was awakened by a terrible din of drumming
and bugling from the adjacent barracks close to the line of
fortifications which at that time enclosed Portsmouth--but whose moats
and ramparts were pulled to pieces, as I have already said, some few
years ago to make room for the officers' and men's recreation grounds
and gymnasium, with other modern improvements.

Then, I could hear the heavy tramp of men marching, followed by the
hoarse sound of words of command in the distance, "Halt!  Front!
Dress!"

I assure you, I really thought for the moment that the long-talked-of
French invasion, about which I had been recently reading in my
historical researches, had actually come at last and that the garrison
had been hurriedly called to arms to resist some unexpected attack on
the town.

This reminiscence of my cramming experiences, mixed up in hotch-potch
fashion with the martial echoes that caught my ear from the banging drum
and brazen bugle, at once recalled the gruesome fact that this was the
eventful day fixed for my examination on board the _Excellent_; so,
dreading lest I should be late, I incontinently jumped out of bed in a
jiffy, proceeding; albeit unconsciously, to obey the last gruff order of
the sergeant of the guard, relieving the sentries.

This, as Dad subsequently explained, was the reason for all the
commotion, the sergeant parading his men as he came up to each "post" in
turn, with the usual stereotyped formula, "Halt!  Front!  Dress!"

Dear me!  I did "dress;" though in rather a different sense to that
implied by the sergeant's mandate, huddling on my clothes in my haste so
carelessly that I broke the button off my shirt collar and put on my
jacket the wrong way!

All my hurry, too, was to very little purpose; for, when I reached the
coffee-room of the hotel below, after getting confused and losing my
proper course amongst the many intricate passages and curving corkscrew
staircases that led downwards from the little dormitory I had occupied
right under the tiles at the back of the building, I found that neither
Dad nor mother had yet put in an appearance for breakfast.

I was in such good time, indeed, that old Saint Thomas's clock in High
Street was only just chiming Eight; while the ships' bells over the
water were repeating the same piece of information in various tones and
the shrill steam whistle from the dockyard workshops hard by screeching
its confirmation of the story.

There was no fear of my being late, therefore; so, consoling myself with
this satisfactory reflection, I was making my way to the nearest window
of the coffee-room to look out on the harbour beyond as I had done the
evening before when, like as then, a big bouncing "Bang!" came from the
_Victory_, making me jump back and feel almost as nervous as poor mother
was on the previous occasion.

"Yezsir, court-martial gun, sir, aboard the flagship, sir," said the
wiry little cock-eyed head waiter, who was hopping about the room "like
a parched pea on a griddle," as dad expressed it, stopping to flick the
dust from the mantelpiece with his napkin as he replied to the mute
inquiry he could read in my glance.  "Look, sir!  They've h'isted the
Jack at the peak, sir, yezsir."

"Oh, yes, I see," said I, as if I had not observed this before and was
perfectly familiar with the signal.  "I did not notice it at first."

"No, sir?  W'y, in course not, sir, or else ye'd ha' known wot it were,"
answered the sly old fellow, ascribing to me a knowledge of naval
matters which he knew as well as myself I did not possess, thus
pandering, with the ulterior view, no doubt, of a substantial tip, to a
common weakness of human nature to which most of us, man and boy alike,
are prone--that of wishing to appear wiser than we really are!

"But, as I was a-saying only last night to Jim Marksby, the hall-porter,
sir," he continued, "court-martials, sir, isn't wot they used to was.
Lord-sakes! sir, I remembers, as if it were yesterday, in old Sir Titus
Fitzblazes's time, sir, when they was as plentiful as the blackberries
on Browndown!

"W'y, sir, b'lieve me or not if yer likes, but there wasn't a mornin'--
barring Sundays in course--as yer wouldn't hear that theer blessed gun
a-firin' for a court-martial, sir, j'est the same as ye heerd j'est now,
sir, yezsir!  Ah, them was fine times, they was, for the watermen on
Hardway; for they usest to make a rare harvest a-taking off witnesses
and prisoners' `friends,' as they calls 'em, and lawyers and noospaper
chaps to the flagship, they did.  The old chaps called the signal gun
`old Fitzblazes's Eight o'clock Gun,' sir.  They did so, sir, yezsir!"

"Indeed, waiter?" said I, feeling quite proud of his thus speaking to me
as if I were a grown-up person.  "But who was this gentleman, old Fitz--
what did you call him?"

"Old Sir Titus Fitzblazes, sir," glibly replied the coffee-room
factotum, flicking off a fly as he spoke from the table-cloth whereon he
had just arranged all the paraphernalia of our breakfast.  "Lord-sakes,
sir, yer doesn't mean for to say, sir, as a well-growed young gen'leman
like yerself, sir, as is a naval gent, sir, as I can see with arf an
eye, haven't heard tell o' he?  Well, sir, he were port admiral here,
sir, a matter of eight or ten year ago, sir, yezsir; and, wot's more,
sir, he were the tautest old sea porkypine ye'd fetch across `in a blue
moon,' as sailor folk say!

"Yezsir, I've heerd when he were commodore on the West Coast, he used
for to turn up the hands every mornin' regular and give 'em four dozen
apiece for breakfast, sir!"

"Good gracious me, waiter!"  I exclaimed, aghast at this statement.
"Four dozen lashes?"

"Yezsir.  Lor'! four dozen lashings was nothink to old Sir Titus, for he
were pertickeler partial to noggin', he were, and took it out of the men
like steam, he did!

"The ossifers, in course, he couldn't sarve out in the same way, not
being allowed for to do so by the laws of the service, sir; but he'd
court-martial 'em, sir, as many on 'em as would give him arf a chance,
and the court-martial gun used for to fire in his time here as reg'lar
as clock-work every mornin' at eight, winter and summer alike, jest the
same as when the flag's h'isted at sunrise, yezsir!"

"What an old martinet he must have been!"  I said in response to this.
"Perhaps, though, the poor old admiral suffered from bad health, and
that made him cross and easily put out?"

"Bad health, sir?  Not a bit of it!" exclaimed my friend, the waiter,
repudiating such an excuse with scorn.  "It were bad temper as were
_his_ complaint.

"Lord-sakes, though, sir, he were bad all over, was Sir Titus; ay, that
he were, from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot.  As bad as
they makes 'em!

"W'y, he 'ad the temper, sir, of old Nick hisself, ay, that he had!

"I don't mean the Czar of Roosia, sir.  Don't you run away with that
there notion!  No, sir, I means the rale old gent as ye've heerd tell
on, wot hangs out down below when he's at home and allers dresses in
black to look genteel-like.  Wears top-boots for to hide his cloven
feet, sir, and carries a fine tail under his arm with a fluke at the end
of it, same as that on a sheet-anchor--ah, yer knows the gent I means,
sir!

"Well, yezsir, old Sir Titus wer him all over and must ha' been his
twin-brother; barring the tail, the admiral being shaky about the feet,
too, and his boots a'most as big as the dinghy of that sloop.  They wos
like as two peas, sir, old Nick and he!

"Lord-sakes, though, yer must have heerd tell of him, sir, a young and
gallant naval ossifer like yerself, 'specially that yarn consarnin' him
and the washerwoman as was going into the dockyard one mornin' when he
were a-spyin' round the gates?"

"No, waiter, I never heard the old gentleman's name before you told it
me," I replied, curious to learn some further disclosures concerning so
celebrated a character.  "What was this story?"

"W'y, sir, it's enuff a'most for to make a cat laugh, sir," he said with
a snigger, which he immediately flicked away, as it were, with his
napkin, resuming his whilom solemn demeanour.  "It happen'd, if yer must
know, sir, in this way, sir, yezsir.

"Old Blazes--that wer the name he allers went by in the yard--was
a-hangin' round the main gate a-lookin' out for to see who comes along,
w'en all of a sudding he spies this good woman as was a-takin' in the
clothes from the wash for Admiralty House.

"That were where, yer knows, sir, he himself lived with Lady Fitz, close
by the College and jest to the right as yer goes in the yard?

"Lord-sakes, sir!  The old admiral thinks he'd made a fine haul and that
the woman were a-smuggling in sperrits or somethin' `contraband,' as
they calls it, for the sailors who is allers stationed round the
commander-in-chief's office; and so, he orders her for to turn out her
big baskets there in the gateway afore all the grinning policemen and
men who was jest a-comin' into the yard.

"Ye never see such a show, sir in all yer born days; and the beauty on
it were that as he was in the middle of it sir, overhaulin' all the
things from the wash, and a-pokin' 'em about with his gold-headed stick
and turnin' over the ladies' fal-de-rals and all sorts of women's gear
that they don't like men for to see, sir, up comes Lady Fitzblazes
herself, a-going out for a walk.

"Seein' what he were after, she axes him wot he means by treating her
clothes like that there.

"Lord-sakes, sir, if he were old Nick, she had a temper, too, and were
as fiery as a she-tiger cat, she were; and, wot between the two, there
was then--Breakfast, sir?  Yezsir, comin', sir!"

The wiry little cock-eyed waiter rushed off, with his napkin over his
shoulder, as he uttered the last words; and, wondering what had caused
him to break off so unexpectedly in the middle of his yarn, apparently
just when he was approaching the most interesting part of it, I turned
my head and saw mother and Dad were within the coffee-room, having
entered the doorway just behind me.

"Hullo, Jack!" said my father, "what was that waiter chap yarning about?
You seemed very much taken up with what he was saying."

I thereupon told him as much as I had heard of the old port admiral.

"Pooh, nonsense, the rascal has only been `pulling your leg' with a
cock-and-a-bull story, Jack," said dad in a contemptuous tone when I had
finished--for he was an officer of the old school and always believed in
the obligations of discipline, invariably "sticking up" for those
superior to him in rank in the service--"I knew old Admiral Fitzblazes
myself very well, and a better officer and gentleman never wore the
Queen's uniform!"

While he was speaking to this effect, the "cock-eyed rascal," as Dad
called him, came in with our breakfast, giving me a sly wink with his
sound eye behind Dad's back as he passed him; so, sitting down, we
hurried through the meal without any further conversation, I feeling
more and more nervous the nearer the hour fixed for the examination
approached, and mother and Dad both keeping silent, in sympathy with me.

Breakfast accomplished, Dad accompanied me to the dockyard, and saw me
off to the _Excellent_; where, on getting on board, with my certificate
of birth and moral character in my pocket and my heart in my mouth, I
was ushered into the wardroom, with some twenty other aspirants for
naval honours like myself.

All of us, of course, were mostly of the same age, but, naturally, of
various builds and size; some tall, some short; some thin, some fat;
some ugly, some handsome.

One little chap whom I noticed was much smaller than I was, although Dad
had expressly drawn Admiral Napier's attention to the fact of my being
rather short for my age.

This youngster had a bright merry face and smiled in a friendly way to
me; but the others looked at me generally as a collection of strange
dogs appear to regard any new comer suddenly brought amongst them,
eyeing and sniffing him suspiciously before they can make up their minds
whether to treat him as friend or foe--though, generally, preferring, as
a rule, the latter footing!

On entering the wardroom, which had a sort of scholastic look mingled
with its ordinary nautical surroundings, we were summoned in turn to the
further end of the apartment.

Here, on a raised portion of the deck abutting on the stern gallery,
three gentlemen in clerical garb were seated behind a semi-circular
green baize table, in front of which we stood, respectively, like so
many prisoners on trial, while answering various questions appertaining
to our Christian and surnames, age and so on.

We also handed in at the same time our baptismal and medical and
character certificates, all of which were duly inspected, docketed and
filed, in regular official style.

These preliminaries gone through, we were then directed to take our
seats on either side of a long table that ran fore and aft the cabin,
whose normal purpose was for the messing of the officers of the ship,
but which on the present occasion was supplied with folios of foolscap
paper and bundles of quill pens and bottles of ink, systematically
distributed along its length, instead of the more palatable viands it
more generally and generously displayed.

We were immediately under the eyes of the senior chaplain of the trio
forming the board of examiners, a gentleman whose position at the centre
of the cross table at the top of the room enabled him to command a full
view of the double line of boys and detect at once any attempt at
cribbing or unfair assistance given by one to the other; and our ordeal
began punctually on the ship's bell striking Ten o'clock, dictation
being the first subject set us "to test our spelling and handwriting,"
as my Lords of the Admiralty were good enough to inform us.

Thanks to my mother's persistency in keeping me up to the mark with
regard to my lessons, long before I had recourse to the crammer, this
introductory stage of the examination presented no difficulties to me;
and I was able not only to keep pace with the gentleman who dictated a
portion of one of Macaulay's Essays to us, but also found time to look
round me occasionally to see how my companions fared with the big words,
the faces of some of them presenting quite a study when a portentous
polysyllable was given them to spell.

The little chap with the curly hair who had smiled at me on coming in, I
observed, did not smile now.

His whilom merry countenance, on the contrary, was all puckered up in
the most comical way; while his brows were knit as he chewed the feather
end of his quill pen trying to get inspiration from that source how to
properly write some long word--I think it was "Mesopotamia!"

Poor little fellow! he had a fearful struggle over it; but, although I
should have dearly liked to have helped him, it was against the rules,
so I could only watch his growing despair with a mute sympathy that was
mingled with amusement at the funny faces he made over the, to him,
serious business.

A little later on, however, if this victim of the stiff dictation paper
had looked at me when ruthless old Euclid, my former antagonist, came on
the scene, he would in like fashion have pitied me; for I was quite
fogged by an easy proposition that I had thought I knew by heart the
night before, but now found I had not the slightest glimmering of,
although I answered most of the other questions.

Thus the examination proceeded, until the hour came for us to hand in
our papers; the lot of us then filing before the presiding genii seated
behind the green baize table at the end of the wardroom, and each giving
up his roll of spoilt foolscap in turn as he came up abreast of the
reverend trio.

I was nearly the last of the file; and, as I approached the table, the
chaplain occupying the middle seat looked up.

He had a jolly, round, benevolent sort of face, which wore at the moment
such a good-humoured expression that, I suppose, it became reflected on
mine causing me to smile.

"Hullo, my boy!" said he, smiling, too.  "You seem in a very happy frame
of mind, I'm sure.  Answered all your questions right, eh?"

"I'm afraid not all, sir," I replied diffidently; "but I hope for the
best."

"That's right, youngster!  There's no good to be got by despairing over
things, and remember, you can have another try, you know, if you fail
now," said he encouragingly.  "`Never say die,' you know, as an old
friend of mine used always to say, `care once killed a cat!'"

"Why, sir," I exclaimed at this, "that's what my father always tells me.
It's his favourite expression when any difficulty arises.  He never
gives in, sir!"

"Indeed!" said the fat gentleman, while the others on either side of him
looked interested.  "Who is your father, my boy, if you'll excuse my
asking you the question?"

"Francis Vernon," I answered promptly.  "A captain in the Royal Navy,
now on half-pay, sir."

The fat clergyman laughed at my laconic reply.

"Vernon, ha!" he repeated after me.  "I wonder if he is the Frank Vernon
I once knew?"

"Can't say, sir," said I, cautiously.  "My mother, though, always calls
him `Frank.'"

My new friend laughed again.

"Ah, I'm sure he is the same, if only from your manner, which is just
like what I remember in the Frank Vernon who was in the _Pelican_ with
me," said he, looking at me all over with his twinkling round eyes.
"Was your father ever up the Mediterranean with old Charley Napier, my
boy?"

"Oh yes, sir," I replied, glib enough now.  "It was Admiral Napier who
gave me my nomination the other day, sir."

"Really, you don't say so?"

"I do, though, sir," I said sturdily, thinking he doubted my assertion.
"Dad and I met him in Pall Mall, and I got my nomination from the
Admiralty, sir, the very next morning as he promised!"

"All right, my boy, all right," he observed in an absent way, turning to
whisper to the two other gentlemen something, I think, about "old
Charley," and "must be passed for my old shipmate's sake."--"I quite
believe what you say: I do not doubt your word for an instant; for Frank
Vernon's son, I am sure, could not but always speak the truth.  Did your
father come down with you for your examination?"

"Yes, sir," I answered.  "He and my mother came with me; and we're all
staying at the old `Keppel's Head Hotel,' on Hardway, sir."

"Humph!  I think I know the place you mention, youngster," said he, with
a significant twinkle in his eye which made the other two chaplains
grin, I could see, at some joke they had between them.  "I'll try and
call on your father, if I can find time before he leaves Portsmouth.
Tell him when you get back, that old Tangent asked after him, please."

"I'll make a point of doing so, sir," I replied, with a bow, repeating
the name after him to make certain.  "I will tell him, sir, about Old
Tangent."

"Old Tangent, indeed!" cried the old fellow, shaking his fat sides,
while the other two examiners roared outright.  "You've a pretty good
stock of impudence of your own, I'm sure!  Be off with you, you young
rascal, or I'll pluck you as certain as I'm that Old Tangent with whom
you dare to be so familiar!"

His jovial face, however, belied the threat, so it did not occasion me
any alarm; and, bowing again politely to the three clerical gentlemen
collectively, I bent my steps, on the grin all the way, to the door of
the wardroom, which was opened and shut behind me by a marine standing
without.

I was Last of the Mohicans, all the other fellows having taken their
departure and gone ashore long before I got my own happy dismissal.

"By Jove, Jack, I think you may put yourself down as passed!" said my
father when I subsequently detailed the incidents of my examination,
drawing a good augury from my description of what had occurred on board
the gunnery ship.  "He was always a knowing hand was Old Tangent; and
such a remark from him to his brother examiners, would be as efficacious
as a whisper in ear of the First Lord's Secretary on your behalf, my
boy!"

"Do you remember him, Frank?  I mean the gentleman who spoke to Jack."

"Oh, yes, my dear," replied Dad to this question of my mother's, "I
recollect Old Tangent quite well.  He was always a good-natured fellow
and a capital shipmate.  Why, he sang the best song of any of us in the
mess on board the old _Pelican_!"

"What!" exclaimed my mother, holding up her hands in pious horror at the
mention of such an unclerical characteristic.  "A clergyman sing songs?"

"Yes, why not?" retorted Dad, who was in his jolliest mood at the
prospect of my having passed my examination successfully.  "They were
spiritual songs of course, my dear, I assure you!"

"No doubt," said mother, drily.  "I think, my dear, you can `tell that
yarn to the marines,' as you say in your favourite sea slang.  _I_ know
what sort of spirits you refer to!"

At which observation they both laughed; and, naturally, I laughed too.



CHAPTER FIVE.

IN WHICH I REALLY "JOIN THE SERVICE."

"Letter for yer, sir, yezsir," said my friend the cock-eyed waiter a
week or two later, while we were at luncheon, bringing in a long,
official-looking document on a salver, which he proceeded to hand me
with a smirk and a squint from his cock-eye, that seemed to roam all
over the apartment, taking in everything and everyone present in one
comprehensive glance.  "It's jest come in, sir.  It were brought by a
messenger, sir, from the commander-in-chief's h'office, sir; and I
thinks as 'ow it's a horder for yer sir, for to jine yer ship, sir,
yezsir!"

"All right my man, that'll do," interposed my father, who from his
service-training had a rooted objection to anything approaching to
familiarity from servants and other subordinates, besides which he
particularly disliked the waiter's "vulgar curiosity" as he styled it,
saying he was always prying and poking his nose into other people's
affairs; although, I honestly believe my worthy old cock-eyed friend
only took a laudable interest in my welfare, as indeed he did in the
business of everybody who patronised the hotel.  "You can leave the
letter, waiter, and likewise the room!"

"For me?" said I, taking up the missive, which was inscribed on the
outside in large printed characters "On Her Majesty's Service,"
similarly to the one which had brought my nomination from the Admiralty.
"I wonder Dad, what it contains!  I suppose, it will tell whether I
have passed my examination or not?"

"Open it, Jack," said Dad, as soon as the waiter had left the room,
flicking his napkin viciously over the sideboard which he passed on his
way to the door as if he was considerably huffed at not being admitted
to our confidence.  "Let us hear the news at once, good or bad.
Suspense, you know, my boy, is worse than hanging."

"No, I can't, Dad, I feel too nervous," I replied, not laughing at his
joke, as I might have done another time, although the pun was a regular
old stager, passing the yet unopened letter across the table.  "You read
it, mother, please."

"You need not be alarmed Jack," said she, smiling, and pointing to the
superscription.  "See, the direction on it is to `John Vernon, Esquire,
R.N.'"

"Which means, Master Jack, that you have passed!" cried Dad,
anticipating her explanation, and jumping up at once from his seat in
great excitement, the contagion of which the next instant spread to me.
"You've passed, my boy, there's no doubt about that from this address;
and, now, you really belong to Her Majesty's service, hurrah!"

Mother, though, did not say anything, and her hands trembled as she
fumbled with the letter, trying to open the envelope without tearing it.

"My boy, my boy!" she exclaimed presently, her eyes filling with tears
as she glanced at the contents of the enclosure, which she could only
dimly see; albeit, she learnt enough to know that I had passed for cadet
and was directed to join the _Illustrious_ training-ship, then stationed
at Portsmouth, like as her successor the _Britannia_ was for a long
while prior to her removal to Dartmouth.  "It is as we thought, and as
you hoped, Jack.  You are going to have your wish at last and leave your
father and me for your new home on the sea."

The cock-eyed waiter broke the rather melancholy silence that ensued.

"Them's outfitters' cards, sir, yezsir," he said, bringing in his salver
again presently, piled up with circulars and square pieces of pasteboard
which he placed before Dad.  "Parties" as heerd tell young gents "as
passed and wants fer to get the horder for his h'uniforms, sir, yezsir!"

Having thus eased his mind, my old friend bustled out of the room as
quickly as he had entered, no doubt afraid of my father giving him
another "dressing-down."

Dad, however, was not thinking of the waiter or his cheeky manner for
the moment.

"By Jove, Jack!" he cried, "you're getting quite an important personage.
Why, we'll have all the tradesmen of Portsea struggling for your lordly
custom if we stop here much longer!  Do they say anything about the
boy's outfit in that letter, my dear?"

"Oh, yes," replied my mother, taking up the missive, which she had
dropped on her knee, and going on to read it over to herself again.
"There's a long list of things that he is ordered to get."

"Then, the sooner we see about getting them the better," said Dad,
looking over the letter, too.  "We'll go round to Richardson's this
afternoon if you like, my dear.  I think he's the best man to rig-out
Jack, and, besides, I've had dealings with him before."

"Very well, I'll go and put on my bonnet at once," said mother, rising
from the table as she spoke.  "You must tell the man, Frank, to have the
poor boy's things ready as quickly as possible, for I must mark them all
before he goes to sea.  Ah! there'll be nobody to look after his clothes
there!"

"No, my dear, no one but his messmates in the midshipmen's berth," said
Dad, jokingly, with a wink to me, wishing to get mother out of her
sorrowful mood.  "_They_ will take precious good care of his wardrobe
for him, I wager; that is, unless he keeps his weather eye open and a
sharp look-out and never leaves his sea-chest unlocked.  All the marking
in the world won't save his gear if he does that, I can tell you and
him!"

Mother was not to be put off her purpose, however, despite Dad's chaff.

So, when the outfitter sent home my elaborate kit, quite complete in
every detail, within a couple of days after our visit to his shop, she
carefully marked every article with my name in full, adding some
numerical hieroglyph of her own that denoted how many of each
description of garment I possessed.

Poor thing!  She was firmly convinced in her innocent mind that I would
be able to trace, by this means, anything missing from my stock of
wearing apparel!

But, notwithstanding all her elaborate precautions, Dad proved a true
prophet; for, on my return home from my first commission, I do not
believe I had any two of a set out of the dozens of shirts and collars
and handkerchiefs I was originally supplied with and which she had so
neatly marked.

On the contrary, the scanty contents of my battered old donkey of a
chest, whilom gorgeously painted in blue and gold, consisted but of a
scant lot of half-worn-out items of clothing, not one of which matched
the other, and the owners whereof, judging by the different inscribed
initials thereon were as various as their respective conditions of wear!

On the same evening my things came from the outfitter's, and even while
my poor mother was engaged on the fruitless task she had imposed on
herself of ensuring my continual possession, as she vainly thought of
the same, I stole, away from the dinner-table and retired for a brief
space to the little bedroom I still occupied at the top of the hotel,
with the way to and from which I was now better acquainted than on the
morning after I first slept "under the tiles."

"Ain't we grand!" sang out Dad, chaffingly, when I presently reappeared
below in all the glory of my new uniform as a naval cadet.

This was the same then as now:--blue trousers and jacket with crown and
anchor buttons and a cunningly-shaped little collar, that had a white
facing to the lapel and the buttonholes of the turn-back worked with
twisted cord of the same colour in proper regulation fashion; not to
speak of my cap with its golden badge, and the formidable-looking
carving-knife of a dirk, twenty inches long in its black scabbard, which
I wore at my belt!

"Why, Master Jack, you'll be `topping the officer' over me now in your
war paint," added Dad, after turning me round twice to inspect me.  "You
are rigged out smart, and no mistake!"

"Don't tease the poor boy, my dear," said my mother, looking at me with
fond admiration as most mothers would do, probably, under similar
circumstances.  "He looks very nice--very nice, indeed.  I'm sure he is
the very image of what you were when I first saw you, Frank!"

"Thanks, my dear, for the compliment," replied Dad, bowing to her
half-jocularly, half-seriously, while he heaved a deep sigh.  "I'm not
making fun of Jack at all.  I really was thinking how long ago it is
since I donned the same uniform like him for the first time.  Ah me,
thirty years and more have passed since then; and I'm an old fogey,
while he's just beginning life!  I hope, my dear Jack, you'll never do
anything to make you ashamed of having put on the Queen's livery!"

"That I won't, Dad," said I emphatically; and I meant it!  "I'll try to
follow your example, and always recollect I am your son."

"You cannot do better, my dear Jack," said mother, putting one of her
arms round my neck caressingly, and stretching out her other hand to
take Dad's.  "Your father was always known in the service as a gallant
officer and an honourable gentleman; and if you follow his example, my
boy, you will neither disgrace the name you bear nor do discredit to Her
Majesty's uniform!  I look forwards, Jack, to your being a credit, not
only to us, but to your country and profession!"

I uttered no reply to my mother's little speech, though it made a deep
impression on me, for she was seldom given to expressing herself at such
length, her words being generally few and to the point; but, I formed
there and then a resolve, which I have endeavoured to adhere to all my
life, that I would never do anything to make her ashamed of me, nor
cause pain to her and Dad, the latter of whom remained silent like
myself.

He was thinking, I felt sure, of the approaching parting between us,
when I should be beyond his care and only have to trust to the training
he had given me.

He knew, however, that I would still be under the watchful eye of
another Father, who guards and guides the sailor afloat amidst the
stormy waters of the deep as well as the landsman ashore, and whose love
and forethought are more to be trusted even than that of our earthly
parents, prize us as dearly as they will.

On the following morning, to make a long story short, I bade adieu to
Dad and mother, both of them accompanying me to the landing steps at the
foot of Hardway to see me off in the waterman's wherry that Dad hailed
for the conveyance of myself and sea-chest to the _Illustrious_.

She was lying in the stream near the mouth of the harbour, as I
mentioned I believe before when speaking of my first view of Portsmouth;
and as the tide was then at the ebb and running out fast, we were very
soon alongside the training-ship, whose huge, black hull glistened in
the bright sunshine.

There was a little chap standing by the marine sentry at the entry port
on the main deck, where I noticed as I went up the accommodation ladder
a little chap only about my own age, but looking as "cocksy" as you
please.

He was dressed in a similarly smart new uniform to my own, and his face,
somehow or other, seemed familiar to me.  I could see, too, that he
looked as if he recognised me in some sort of way, or was anxious to
make my acquaintance.

"Hullo!" he cried, as I gained the deck and returned, with much
conscious dignity, the marine's salute, "why, you're the fellow who
nearly got stranded in Euclid!"

This remark of his brought back to my mind in an instant the scene in
the examination room on board the gunnery ship, and I identified him in
an instant, giving him a "Roland" for his "Oliver."

"Oh, you're the little chap who was so awfully stumped in spelling at
dictation eh, old fellow?"  I retorted, making the marine sentry grin as
the ship's corporal on duty hailed my waterman to pull forward under the
main yard for my chest to be hoisted inboard.  "How did you manage to
scramble through, eh?"

"Only by the skin of my teeth," he answered, smiling all over his face
in such a good-humoured way that I could not help taking a liking to
him.  "Just the same as you did, I suppose, Mr Sharp!"

"That isn't my name," said I, laughing, "but we won't quarrel about
that.  Let us make friends instead."

"Agreed," said he, laughing too.  "I liked the cut of your jib when I
first saw you in that awful place the other day.  I was so sorry I
couldn't help you with your Euclid."

"Really?  Well, I was sorry I couldn't help you with your spelling, you
looked so woe-begone over the big words," I replied, giving him another
dig for his unkind reminiscence of my old nightmare.  "I think it was
`Mesopotamia' that finally finished you, wasn't it?"

"Pax!" cried he, beseechingly.  "You're a bit too sharp for me, I see,
to try chaffing with.  Let us be chums, as you suggest, old boy.  My
name is Tom Mills."

"All right, old chap," I rejoined, gripping the hand he stretched out to
me as cordially as he had offered this gage of friendship.  "I am Jack
Vernon.  That's my name!"

"Well, Jack," said he, addressing me as familiarly as if we had known
each other for years.  "You seem a jolly sort of fellow, and I think I
shall like you."

"Ditto, Master Tom," said I, much amused at his hearty frankness of
speech, for I had never come across such a free and easy fellow before.
"You're another--that's all I can say, old chap!"

This set us off both laughing again; and, in the midst of our glee, up
came a tall man in a long frock-coat with a black sword-belt, but no
epaulets or other distinguishing ornaments, whom I afterwards learnt was
the master-at-arms.  He asked me my name; and, informing me that I was
to report myself to the commanding officer, he led the way up the main
hatch to the quarter-deck above.

This interview having been satisfactorily got through, I was then
escorted to the quarters of the naval instructor, who received me most
graciously, telling me the hours of study and drill, and coaching me
generally in the routine of my duties.

He catechised me all the while, I noticed, in a sly way in respect of my
knowledge of mathematics, putting a series of innocent questions that I
saw were meant to test my acquirements.

He did this, however, in such an insidious manner as to disarm me at the
outset, preventing my feeling that I was being examined and "turned
inside out," so to speak.

He was a nice fat old fellow like Mr Tangent.

Indeed, the majority of naval chaplains I have come across in my time in
the service have as a rule been fat, the sea air apparently exercising
as beneficial an effect on the clerical constitution as a snug living
ashore.

This gentleman now, after telling me he thought I should do very well,
excused me from any lessons that day, it being the first I was on board.
He then dismissed me to join my messmates, whom, he said, I would
probably find below in the gunroom, as it was "close on the luncheon
hour!"

This reflection seemed to give him some inward satisfaction; for, he
patted his waistcoat with a sort of pleasurable anticipation as I left
him, asking the wardroom steward, who just then entered the cabin,
whether there wasn't a veal and ham pie, I recollect.

When I got down to the lower deck I had no need to inquire as to the
whereabouts of the gunroom.  Such a din and babel of voices proceeded
from the after part of the ship that I was certain, from what Dad had
let out to me of his former experiences at sea, the noise could only
have been made by a batch of middies and naval cadets in their moments
of relaxation from the stern discipline of the quarter-deck, when they
were allowed to give their superabundance of animal spirits full play.

I was positive I must be in the near vicinity of the gunroom, the "happy
hunting ground" of my messmates.  Luncheon was evidently either over or
not yet begun; for, a crowd of youngsters, amongst whom I at once
perceived my friend Tom Mills, were grouped together on the open deck in
front of the gunroom, where, as I afterwards heard, their hammocks were
slung at night.

The lot were amusing themselves at some game I was not as yet acquainted
with, but which evidently was one of the most boisterous character, a
"rough and tumble" fight being nothing to it.

"Hullo, Jack, here you are at last!" shouted out Tom Mills, on seeing
me.  "Come and join us, old fellow.  We're playing at `piling the
sacks.'"

"Piling the sacks?"  I repeated.  "What game is that?"

"Come along," cried he, "you'll soon learn it.  Here's a new hand,
Master Miller.  Sacks to the mill! sacks to the mill!"

Thereupon he and a couple of other fellows seized me by my arms and legs
and put me on top of a pile of other johnnies, who were scrambling and
struggling and yelling on the deck in a confused mass, like an animated
roly-poly pudding just turned out of the pot!

Another chap was then tossed on above me, and then another and another,
till I was well-nigh suffocated; and then, when the pile had reached the
top of the hatchway, the "Master Miller" toppled the lot of us over.

On this, we all scrambled to our feet again, laughing and shouting in
high glee; with collars torn and shirts crushed and the buttons wrenched
off our jackets by the dozen.  Only to begin the game again as before--
until, finally, the master-at-arms made his appearance below with the
compliments of the first lieutenant to the "young gentlemen," and a
polite request for them to "make less noise."

It was a jolly game, though, I can tell you!

The next day, we all commenced in earnest our studies in navigation and
seamanship, the naval instructor with his assistants working us up in
our mathematics and imparting to us the elements of plane and spherical
trigonometry; while the boatswain and his mates gave us practical
lessons in the setting up of rigging and making of knots, so that there
should be no chance of our mistaking a "sheepshank" for a "cat's paw,"
or a "Flemish eye" for a "grommet!"

Here I at once gained the good opinion of the boatswain by making a
"Matthew Walker" knot which, I may mention for the benefit of the
uninitiated, is used generally on ship board for the standing part of
the lanyards of lower rigging.

This I managed to achieve successfully at my first attempt, thanks to
Dad's previous instruction; and I not only "got to win'ard" of the old
seaman by the knowledge I thus displayed, but added to my laurels by
showing that I knew something also of the somewhat intricate arts of
"worming" and "parcelling" and "serving" ropes when occasion arose for
dealing with them in such fashion, repeating aloud, to the great
satisfaction of my teacher, the distich which guides the tyro and tells
him how to do his work properly:--

  "_Worm_ and _parcel_ with the lay,
  And _serve_ the rope the other way!"

With my mathematical studies, too, I made equal progress, in spite of my
original dislike to friend Euclid and his vexatious propositions.

I also learnt how to find my latitude, by "bringing down the sun" with
the sextant; and was taught the bearings and deviation of the compass,
as well as the mastery of the log-line and other similar little niceties
of navigation.

These preliminaries achieved, I was reported by the naval instructor to
the captain of the training-ship as "efficient" long before my
probationary period of three months had expired.

The captain of the training-ship, in due course, reported me to the
Admiralty; and one fine morning I received official notice from the
Secretary informing me that I was to go to sea, being appointed to the
_Candahar_, line-of-battle ship, just commissioned for service on the
China station; where, it was reported, matters were getting a little
ticklish at the time, our government being at loggerheads with that of
the emperor of the sun, moon and stars, and war imminent between the two
countries.

It was certainly a splendid opening for me!

"By jingo! you're a lucky johnny," said little Tom Mills when I told him
the news, my chum heaving a sigh of disappointment at this early
severance of our friendship.  He was, I could see, also a little jealous
of my going to sea before him.  "I'll write to my father and see if he
cannot get me appointed to the same ship!"

"I hope you will, Tom," cried I, as I wrung his hand at the gangway,
parting company at the same time with the rest of my old messmates, who
had not yet passed through the course of the training-ship, all of whom
gathered round to see the last of me.  "I promise you, old chap, I
sha'n't have any other chum if you don't come with me!"

With these words, I ran down the ladderway; and, the next moment, was
seated with three other cadets, who were leaving like myself to go
afloat, in the sternsheets of the second cutter.

This last had been detailed by the commander to take us off to the
_Candahar_; then lying alongside the old _Blake_ hulk and moored in the
stream, about midway between the Sheer Jetty and the King's Stairs,
where she was "fitting out for sea" as speedily as possible, the
authorities having urged the utmost haste in her preparation.

"Shove off!" sang out the coxswain; and, impelled by her twelve oars,
that were manned by as many pairs of stalwart arms, the boat sprang
through the water.

The last sound I heard, beyond the wash of the tide against the side of
the cutter and the subdued breathing of the men pulling, was little Tom
Mills' voice in the distance shouting until I got out of earshot,
"Good-bye, Jack, old fellow, good-bye!"



CHAPTER SIX.

ON BOARD THE OLD "CANDAHAR."

"In bows!" cried the coxswain of the cutter as we neared the starboard
side of the old hulk to which the _Candahar_ was lashed; and, the next
minute, when close up to the foot of the accommodation ladder, the same
functionary shouted the usual orders on approaching to board a ship.
"Way enough.  Oars!"

The oars were at once tossed, while the bowman gripped a projecting
ringbolt in the side of the hulk with his boathook to hold on by; and
the other cadets and myself, jumping out on to the ladderway, made our
way nimbly enough up to the deck of the mastless _Blake_, passing over
her by a gangway to the _Candahar_ that lay on her further side.

Here all was apparent confusion, stores of all sorts being hoisted in by
a derrick amidships from the dockyard lighters alongside and struck down
the main hatchway, while ropes and tackle of every description lumbered
the upper deck fore and aft.

Groups of men, clad in dirty overalls, were busy setting up the rigging
and getting the yards into position; and hoarse orders were shouted ever
and anon, followed by the shrill pipe of the boatswain's whistle and the
steady tramp of the hands as they walked round with the capstan and
swayed the heavy spars aloft, or hauled away at the gantlines and
steadying guys and purchase falls and other tackle.

The commander, the presiding spirit of the scene, if a smart officer,
has never a better opportunity for showing his smartness than when a
ship is fitting for sea; all the burthen of the work then falls upon his
shoulders, for he has to be here and there and everywhere, directing a
hundred different jobs at one and the same time.

As I went aft, and approached the hallowed ground of the quarter-deck, I
saw him standing under the break of the poop.

He was a fine, big, broad-shouldered west-countryman with the voice of a
stentor; and, although he was dressed in a somewhat shabby old uniform
coat and had his trousers tucked into his boots, he looked every inch a
gentleman, as he was, indeed, not only by birth, but by breeding.

"Come on board, sir," said I touching my cap, when a slight lull
occurred in the general din caused by the creaking blocks and groaning
tackle as the heavy spars were swayed aloft, and the continual tramp of
men along the deck "walking up the capstan" or hoisting at the whips
leading down into the hold.  "I've just come on board, sir."

"Oh, you've come on board, youngster, eh?" he repeated questioningly,
slewing round in his tracks and bringing his piercing black eyes to bear
on my small person; when he looked me through and through, "taking my
measure" at a glance.  "Ah, I see, you're one of our new cadets from the
_Illustrious_ come to report yourself, eh?"

"Yes, sir," I replied, smiling in response to the pleasant look on his
face.  "I've come to join the _Candahar_, sir."

"What's your name, young gentleman?"

I told him.

"Ah, you're the little shaver Mr Tangent spoke of to me the other night
when I dined with the Admiral!  He said he knew your father, and thought
you would turn out a smart officer; so, I hope you'll support the good
character he gave you.  Belay there, bosun's mate, you'll let that cask
down by the run if you don't look out!" he cried out suddenly to a stout
petty officer who was superintending a gang of men who were taking in
provisions from one of the lighters alongside, and lowering the same
into the after hold.  "Steady, you may carry on, now; that's better!"

"Now, my little friend," he continued, resuming his conversation with
me.  "We'll see how smart you can be.  Run forruds and tell the bosun I
want the sail burton brought aft, and an up and down tackle fitted to
the mainyard, if you are able to recollect all that?"

"Oh, yes, sir," I replied, touching my cap again, "I know what a sail
burton is, sir."

"And an up and down tackle, too?"

"Yes, sir; it is used for setting up the lower rigging."

"Bravo, youngster!  You'll be a man before your mother if you go on at
that rate!" said he, with a hearty laugh at my assurance, which seemed
to frighten the other cadets who came with me, for they looked as meek
as mice.

But, as I trotted away at a sign of dismissal from him to seek the
boatswain on the forecastle, where I knew his especial domain lay, I
heard Commander Nesbitt say in an undertone to one of the lieutenants
who just then stepped down from the poop to join him.  "That's a sharp
lad, Cheffinch, and one who'll make his mark, if I'm not mistaken.  He's
quite a contrast to the sucking Nelsons they generally send us from the
training-ship, who don't, as a rule, know a goose from a gridiron!"

What the lieutenant said in reply to this complimentary allusion to my
whilom comrades of the _Illustrious_, and the system of instruction
pursued on board that vessel, I cannot tell, for I was out of earshot,
hastening forward as speedily as I could, so as to deserve the good
opinion the commander seemed to have already formed of me.

This, I may here add, I succeeded in doing; for, I made my reappearance
on the quarter-deck in a brace of shakes, with the boatswain in person
and a party of topmen bringing aft the respective "purchases" the
commander had specified--blocks and strops and running gear of all
sorts, all ready for instant service.

"Mr Hawser," said Commander Nesbitt to the boatswain as we got near,
giving me a kindly nod to express his approval of my having carried out
his orders so promptly, "I must have that main-tops'l yard up before you
pipe to dinner."

"Very good, sir," replied the warrant officer, touching his cap again,
as he had done when approaching the sacred precincts of the
quarter-deck.  "The spar, sir, is fitted all right for going up; but,
sir, it's getting on now for Seven Bells."

"I don't care what the time is, bosun; it's got to be done, and that's
the long and the short of it," retorted the commander sharply, flashing
his eyes in a way that showed he was not to be put off when he had once
made up his mind.  "Maintop, there!"

"Ay, ay, sir," answered the captain of the top, looking over the rail
instantly and leaving off the work of fitting the upper standing
rigging, on which he and his men were engaged when this vigorous hail
reached the top, thundered out with all the power of the commander's
lungs.  "Want me down, sir?"

"Down?  No, my man; but lower a whip at once for the sail burton, and
you can lower the tops'l tye as well.  I'm going to send up the yard at
once!"

"Ay, ay, sir."

Promptitude begets like promptness.

Before you could say "Jack Robinson," the whip was down and the purchase
in the top; then, the standing part of the tackle was made fast to the
yard pendant and the spar swayed up, as the men walked away with the
fall, which was rove through a snatchblock hooked on to a ringbolt fixed
in the deck and led to the capstan.

Ere a quarter-of-an-hour had elapsed, the yard was slung and firmly
secured, with the halliards and braces rigged in proper fashion.

In the middle of the operation, however, the attention of the
hard-worked commander was called in another direction.

A fat, heavy, seafaring-looking man in a short pilot jacket came up to
him as he was uttering rapid commands to the sailors aloft in stentorian
accents from the poop-rail.

"Beg pardon, sir," said this gentleman, whom I presently learnt was Mr
Quadrant, the master, or navigating officer of the ship; one who used in
the old days to have charge of all the material on board a man-of-war,
just as the commander looks after the crew.  "None of those stores, sir,
have come off from the dockyard that were promised this morning, and all
my hands are idle below.  What am I to do, sir?"

"Send a boat at once to the storekeeper, to lodge a complaint."

"Yes, sir.  But, there's only the jollyboat left, sir, now, besides the
dinghy.  All the others are ashore."

"Well, send the jollyboat; and, I say, Mr Quadrant," added Commander
Nesbitt as the master was waddling off down the companionway, "tell the
midshipman who goes with the boat that if the things are not sent aboard
at once, he is to make application at the Admiral's office, complaining
of the delay.  P'raps, though, you'd better go yourself, eh?"

"I will if you like, sir," sighed the master, who had already had too
much exercise between decks and up and down the hatchways to feel
enamoured of a walk ashore over the rough cobblestones of the dockyard.
"But, I don't think they'll hurry any the more for me than they would
for a middy, sir.  He would be able, too, sir, to cheek the yard people
all the better, sir."

"Just as you please, Mr Quadrant," returned the commander in a decided
tone.  "I should prefer, however, your going yourself to sending any
other officer."  This was equivalent to an order; and the master with a
deep groan disappeared, only to make room for Mr Nipper, the purser.

This gentleman came across the gangway from the hulk--on board of which
we were all berthed while our own ship was fitting out.  He seemed in a
great heat, as if something had put him out very much indeed, looking
worried beyond endurance.

"Captain Nesbitt, sir," said he to the commander, touching his cap like
the others, "what am I to do, sir?"

"I'm sure I can't say, Mr Nipper," rejoined the commander in an
off-hand way, for he had just given the order to sway the yard aloft,
and was watching whether the spar cleared the top and keeping a wary eye
that it did not get foul of the mainstay, or something else aloft.
"What's the matter?"

"Those people at the victualling yard haven't sent our fresh beef yet
aboard, sir," answered the purser, a thin, fussy little man, in a
whining way, as if he were going to cry, "and there's nothing to serve
out for the men's dinners--at least, not enough for all."

"That's too bad!" cried the commander, indignantly; "why did you not
tell me of this before?"

"I was expecting the boat would come with the meat every minute, sir."

"Is there no beef at all on board?"

"Only the wardroom and gunroom supply."

"Then serve that out at once to the men--they sha'n't go without their
dinner if I can help it."

"But, sir, what will the officers do?"

"Ah, you must settle that as best as you can with the wardroom steward,
sir!  Let this, Mr Nipper, be a lesson to you in future not to put off
things until the last moment!  You may take the dinghy, if you like,
by-and-by and go to Clarence yard yourself, to see what can be done for
getting some more beef for the wardroom and gunroom mess; but, I cannot
spare another officer or man.  We're much too short-handed already!"

This was true enough, for we had only about a couple of hundred men of
our crew, including the seamen, gunners and petty officers, as yet
aboard.

In those days only the marines and boys were drafted to ships when first
commissioned, the compliment having to be made up as hands volunteered
to join in response to the bills inviting enrolment that were stuck up
in some selected public-house or tavern ashore, which, as the
master-at-arms told me, was called the "Randy-woo!"

The continuous service system now in vogue was not adopted until within
a comparatively recent period, say some thirty years ago at the outside;
prior to this all bluejackets on their discharge from a ship when she
was paid off, instead of being merely granted leave according to the
present custom, became absolutely free men and having the right to quit
the service, if they so wished, for good and all.

Although, should they change their minds after their money was all spent
and come forward to join another ship about to be commissioned, the
different periods they might have previously served afloat counted
towards the time required to qualify them for a pension.

When, therefore, the _Candahar_ was ordered to hoist the pennant and her
captain and other officers appointed, she only received a certain
percentage of trained gunnery hands from the _Excellent_, with a few
boys and marines.

She had to go into the open market, as it were, for the rest of her
crew, like any ordinary ship about to sail on a trading voyage.

Such being the case, following the usual practice at the time, the "Earl
Saint Vincent," a tavern on Common Hard, was chosen for our
rallying-place, or rendezvous.

A large broadsheet was exposed in the window of this tavern inviting
able-bodied seamen and artificers to join the battleship; one of our
lieutenants attending each day for a certain number of hours at the
little shipping office which was established in the bar parlour of the
tavern to inspect the discharge notices and certificates of any sailors
or landsmen who might wish to join.

The officer relegated to this duty took care to satisfy himself that any
candidates he selected should pass muster with the commander before
sending them on board.

He knew well enough that if the men had previously served in the navy
and their characters were marked "very good," or even "good," there was
little doubt of their acceptance.

Up to the date of my going on board the ship, though, our recruiting
agency had not been very successful.

Not half our required number of men, had, indeed, as yet volunteered for
the _Candahar_; for, most of the old hands worth their salt fought shy
of the station she was reported to be going to, on account less of its
unhealthiness, which to Jack is of small account, than to the absence of
any prize-money or extra pay, such as might be gained even on the deadly
West Coast, with its malarial fever and pestiferous mangrove swamps that
form the white man's grave.

But, all of a sudden, public opinion, so far as the sailor world was
concerned, veered round in our favour.

It had leaked out that there was a prospect of our having a scrimmage
with the mandarins.

In this case, of course, there would be dollars and other sorts of
"loot" knocking about.

So, that very day, volunteers began to come off to the ship; not by
threes and fours as they had done before, but by twenties and more at a
stretch.

Of these the launch brought off a large cargo alongside immediately
after the commander's interview with the purser; and I thus had the
opportunity of seeing how the men were scrutinised and sorted for the
"watch bill," which the chief of our executive made out himself--as
indeed he seemed to do everything, looking after everybody else all the
while.

The coxswain of the launch, with a touch of his forelock, handed over
the discharge notes and certificates of such of the motley group that
came up the side that had these documents, which the second lieutenant,
a knowing fellow, who was in charge of our shipping office that morning,
had pocketed when he engaged the men; doing this as a sort of
preventative to their backing out of the bargain afterwards.

These greasy papers, which he did not open, were then passed on to the
midshipman on duty on the quarter-deck, with orders to take them to the
purser's office; and the commander then proceeded to muster the lot
abaft the mainmast bitts.

"What were you aboard your last ship?" asked he of a smart-looking
seaman on the right of the line as they stood across the deck facing
him, who appeared neater and nattier than the rest.  "What rating did
you take up?"

"Cap'en of the foretop, sir."

"All right, you're the very man I want!" said the commander.  "You may
go and do the duty, and if you are diligent and active you shall have
the rate."

The next chap stated he had been an able seamen in his previous ship, so
he was sent on to the forecastle to add to the long roll already there.

So was another and another, till Commander Nesbitt lighted on a man who
said he had been a shipwright in the dockyard, whom he marked down to
join the carpenter's crew.

Several ordinary seamen followed, until the fag end of the lot was
reached, consisting of a number of greenhorns who had never been to sea
previously; and these, on declaring their willingness to serve Her
Gracious Majesty, were sent down into the steerage to join the
after-guard.

"What are you?" inquired the commander of a sooty sort of gentleman,
who, with another more morose personage, stood at the extreme rear of
this group.  "I mean, what did you do ashore for a livelihood, my man?"

"Wot hev h'I been a-doin' of fur a lively-hood, sir?" repeated the sooty
gentleman, who evidently was a wag, speaking, albeit with a comical
expression on his countenance, with a native dignity that would have won
the praise of Lord Chesterfield.  "W'y, sir, h'I'm a `h'upright,' sir,
that's wot h'I h'am!"

"An `upright'!" exclaimed Commander Nesbitt, with a smile.  "I've heard
of wheelwrights, and millwrights and shipwrights, of course, but never
of such a calling as an `upright'--what's that, eh?"

"I thought as 'ow I'd puzzle you, sir," replied the man with a grin.
"I'm a chimbly-sweeper by trade."

"Oh, a chimney-sweeper?  Then you ought to be good at climbing, and I
cannot do better than send you aloft.  You can go forrud now."

Saying this, the commander turned to the last man the morose one,
questioning him in like fashion.

"And what have you been?"

"I'm a `downright,' sir," said he, as grave as a judge.  "Wot they calls
a `downright,' sir."

"Now, don't you try on any of your jokes with me, my man, or you'll find
yourself in the wrong box, which is the strong box on board ship, and
vulgarly called chokey!"

"I ain't a-joking," replied the other, speaking as gravely as before and
without even the shadow of a smile on his face.  "I'm a `downright,'
that's what I am."

"Pray, what profession is that," asked the commander, sarcastically.  "I
would not like to hurt your feelings by calling your avocation a trade!"

"You're right, sir," returned the other, as calmly as possible, without
turning a hair; "I'm a gravedigger."

This fairly made the commander collapse.

"You may muster with the after-guard," was the only reply he made, but
we all could see that he had hard work to keep his gravity, as he turned
towards the boatswain's mate and ordered him to pipe the men to dinner
in a sharp tone; and he said to Mr Cheffinch, the gunnery lieutenant,
when he crossed over the deck to go on board the old _Blake_ to lunch,
"He had me nicely there, like that other joker the chimney-sweeper.  It
must have been a planned thing between the two rascals!"



CHAPTER SEVEN.

WE GO OUT TO SPITHEAD.

Passing across the gangway with Commander Nesbitt to the hulk, which
served as a sort of floating hotel for all of us while the _Candahar_
was preparing for sea, officers and men alike sleeping and messing in
her and only going on board our own ship during working hours between
meals, as long as daylight lasted, I found Dr Nettleby, the chief of
our medical staff, with one of his assistants, busily engaged in the
sick bay on the main deck.

They were examining all the new hands who had just joined, to see
whether any of them were suffering from organic disease, or some other
physical infirmity that might incapacitate them for service afloat, none
but the able-bodied being accepted.

The curtained door of the sick bay being open and the cabin itself close
to the main hatchway, which I had necessarily to pass in going below to
the gunroom, I could not help overhearing something of what was
proceeding in the medical sanctum, the more especially from the fact of
Dr Nettleby, the presiding genius, having a short temper and a snappy
manner of expressing himself peculiarly his own.

He was a good-hearted man at the bottom, however, and as tender as a
woman in cases of real suffering; though woe to the malingerer or
shammer of illness who incautiously ventured within reach of his caustic
tongue!

A couple of the cadets who had come on board with me that morning were
standing by the doorway of the sick bay, in company with one of the
older midshipmen and some others; and, seeing these all grinning, as if
enjoying themselves mightily at what was going on within, I joined the
group--the lot of us sheltering ourselves from observation behind a tall
canvas screen that was rigged across the deck amidships, shutting out
the draught from the port-holes fore and aft, besides serving also as an
ante-room to the doctor's cabin and surgery.  From this inner apartment
would emerge ever and anon some culprit marine or shamefaced seaman,
trying to walk steady, who, having perhaps been a trifle too jolly
overnight and pleading indisposition as an excuse for his inability to
attend to his duties, had been brought before the doctor for treatment--
only, alas! to receive a dose of pungent satire, in lieu of the soothing
medicine they craved to banish the effects of their drunken spree.
Meanwhile, the new hands who were awaiting their medical examination
were drawn up on the other side of the gangway, "marking time" until
these regular, or rather irregular, patients were disposed of in turn,
no doubt enjoying the fun like ourselves.

"Listen," whispered Larkyns, the senior midshipman, nudging the fellow
next him and winking to me as I came up.  "That's Macan, our corporal of
marines, who's getting it now.  By Jove, the doctor is giving it him
hot!"

He certainly was, judging from what reached my ears, at least.

"Stuff and nonsense, corporal!"  I heard Dr Nettleby rasp out
snappishly, his voice sounding from within the cabin just like a terrier
dog barking, for I could hear him plainly enough.  "You can't gammon me,
my man, though you might take in the first lieutenant!  It's `rumatism,'
not rheumatism you're suffering from, you scoundrel!  You've been
drinking, that's what's the matter with you; and if I report you to the
cap'en, as I ought, you'll not only lose your stripes before sunset, but
get four dozen as well, and serve you right, too!"

"Faith, yer honour, I haven't tasted a dhrop of anythin' barrin' tay
since yesterday noon at Eight Bells.  May I die this minnit if I have,
sor," boldly asserted the accused in a rich Irish brogue that was as
distinct as the doctor's voice.  "It's the rheumaticks, sure!  I've got
'em in the legs bad this toime and can't hould mesilf up at all, nor
walk more than a choild!"

"Macgilpin, just diagnose this case for me," cried the doctor to his
assistant.  "What does he smell of?"

"Whuskey," replied the assistant-surgeon, a rawboned expert from
Edinburgh, who had only recently donned Her Majesty's uniform and
brought his north-country accent with him when he came southwards.
"There's nae doot aboot that.  He smells o' whuskey, and bad whuskey,
tae!"

"Begorrah, yer nose is wrong, sor, and the doctor's roight, as he always
is, sor, beggin' yer pardon," said the culprit, confessing his offence
in his anxiety to stand up for the medical insight of the chief, with
whom he had served before and whose professional pride he knew how to
work upon.  "It was rhum, sure enough."

"You rascal!" shouted out Dr Nettleby.  "Why, not a moment ago you
swore you hadn't tasted a drop of anything but tea alone since
yesterday."

"Faith, yer honner, I didn't know it wor rhum till too late, sor.  I
sware, sor, I droonk it out av a taypot."

"Out of a teapot, man?"

"Yis, sor, I'll till yer honner how it wor, sure," explained the wily
fellow, who could tell from the doctor's change of tone that his offence
was condoned and that he need fear no worse consequences now than one of
his usual lectures, which only went in at one ear and out at the other,
as Dr Nettleby himself said.  "I wint over to the rendywoo last noight
be the cap'en's orders, sor, fur to say if there wor any more hands
awaitin' to jine.  Faith an' there I mates me wife's first cousin,
Bridget O'Halloran, as is merried now be the same token to Sargint
Lintstock."

"Sergeant Lintstock?"

"Ay, sor, that same, which makes him, sure, me second cousin once
removed, though, faith, he's me soupayrior orfiser!  But, as I were
a-tellin' ye, sor, in comes Bridget whilst I were talkin' to the
jintleman behoind the bar at the rendywoo.  I were jist axin' what the
cap'en tells me to axe him; an' `Mike,' says she, cordial like, `have a
partin' glass wid me fur the sake of the ould country as ye're abut to
lave.'

"`Faith an' that's more nor I dare, Bridget,' says I.  `I promist the
docthor, sure, I wouldn't touch another dhrop o' sperrits for the nixt
four-an'-twenty hours, as I'm a livin' sinner!'

"`But I don't want ye to dhrink sperrits,' says she.  `Me an' me frind
Mistress Wilkins here is jist havin' a cup of tay, sure; an' axes ye to
jine us, that's all!'

"`Faith I'm not the bhoy fur to disobleege the ladies,' says I, `ye can
give us a cup, if that's all ye wants me fur to do.'  Wid that, Bridget
ups with the taypot, a little brown one it wor, sure, by the same token,
an' pours me out a cupful in a mug that lay handy sure on the counther,
which I drinks to the hilth of her an' Missis Wilkins as wor standin'
by.  It wor right-down beautiful tay; so I has another one to the hilth
of Bridget's husband the sarjint, an' thin another, that wor a little
one faith! to the hilth of the babby; an', begorrah, sor, I rimimbers no
more till this mornin' whin I fales so bad wid the rheumatics as I
couldn't lift me hid out of me hammock.  The sarjint says I wor droonk,
but I worn't, sor; though somehows or t'other I thinks it must have been
rhum I wor drinkin' at the rendywoo an' not tay as Bridget telled me at
the toime, sayin' it wor good fur the stummick an' wud kape the cowld
out!"

"I don't believe a word of your story," I heard the doctor answer to
this long and circumstantial yarn.  "Why, Macan, you're drunk now!"

"Me droonk now, sor?" repeated the other in a tone of mingled sorrow and
solemnity.  "Faith I'm as sobher as a jidge this very minnit, as I'm a
livin' sinner!"

"Don't tell me any more of your lies!" cried out the doctor irascibly at
this juncture, interrupting what further asservation the corporal might
have made in support of his unblushing assertion.  "You can go forrud
now and thank your stars I don't report you, as I had more than half a
mind to at first.  If I did, you'd be put into the black list and lose
your stripes to a dead certainty."

"May the saints presarve yer honner," exclaimed Macan with effusion as
he was thus dismissed, but he was still not satisfied apparently at his
word being doubted; for, as he passed us, working his way forward by a
series of short tacks, he kept on muttering half aloud, much to our
amusement, "It's all through that blissid Scotch sawbones wid his long
`dog nose' as he calls it, sayin' it wor whisky.  I'm as shober as a
jidge, faith--as shober as a jidge!"

No more unfortunate circumstance, however, could have occurred for the
corporal of marines, in spite of the doctor having let him off so
easily, for, through our overhearing this dialogue between the two, the
yarn he had told of meeting his "cousin Bridget" soon got round the
ship, and the men could always put him in a rage whenever they liked by
an allusion to the "taypot" and his cousin's friend "Missis Wilkins."

We stopped a little longer listening outside the sick bay, but soon gave
up the pastime, nothing occurring to interest us during the medical
examination of the new hands, a fresh batch of whom came aft, by the
way, at Four Bells; for all of them were quickly passed by the doctor
and were detailed for duty aloft and below, where many jobs were at a
standstill for want of men.

This enabled the commander to press on with the work of rigging the
ship, the crossjack, or "crochet" yard being sent up by the aid of the
mizzen burton hooked on in front of the top; after which the jack was
slung and the trusses fixed on, the spar brought home to the mast, the
lifts and braces having been fitted before swaying, as is the case with
all the lower yards in men-of-war.

The mizzen-trysail mast, on which the spanker is set, was also got up by
means of the same tackle; and, what with hoisting in some of the main
deck guns and sails and other gear, the afternoon quickly passed.

I was not sorry when dinner-time came, Five Bells in the first dog
watch, for I was pretty well tired to death with this, my first day's
experience on board the _Candahar_, in running up and down the decks
fore and aft as Commander Nesbitt's special messenger.  It was, however,
a very good introduction to the life I should have to lead for the next
few years of my career; for, as a junior officer, I would be at the beck
and call of everyone on the quarter-deck and "hardly able to call my
soul my own,"--as Dad had more than once warned me beforehand.

Still, I must say, notwithstanding certain drawbacks, which subsequent
experience brought to light in due course, I liked it all, taking the
rough side of sea life with the smooth, and would not change my lot if I
had the opportunity of making my choice over again, even knowing what I
do now of the service!

My captain I had not as yet seen much of; for, although he came off
every day to sign papers and receive reports, as well as see how things
were going on generally, he lived on shore and did not interfere at all
with Commander Nesbitt, who carried on the work as he pleased.

The latter being a good officer, who thoroughly knew his duty and a
sailor every inch of him, as I have already described, Captain Farmer,
as he probably well understood, could not have done better than thus
leave matters to his second in command while the ship was in harbour.

The Honourable Digby Lanyard, our first lieutenant, was a tall
supercilious young man of five-and-twenty or so who wore an eyeglass.

This was more for effect than from any defect of vision, for he was as
sharp as a needle; and could see a bit of spunyarn adrift or a rope out
of place aloft even quicker than the commander, keen-sighted as he was.

Amongst the men on the lower deck, who have, as a rule, some pet
nickname for most of their officers, especially those whom they may
chance to like or dislike more than the rest, he always went by the
sobriquet of "glass-eye"; and it was wonderful how this dandy chap who
was so particular in his dress and would mince his words in conversation
with his brother officers in the wardroom, speaking with a lisp of
affectation and a languid air as if it were too much trouble to
articulate distinctly, would, when the occasion arose, roar out his
orders in a voice that could be heard from one end of the ship to the
other and make the men skip about, like the young lambs mentioned by the
Psalmist!

As for us youngsters, we dreaded his icy contemptuous stare and his
"haw-haw" manner more than anything.

He seemed to have the power of freezing us with a look should he ever
condescend to notice us at all; but this, fortunately, was very seldom,
the lieutenant being wont to ignore our existence except when he had
reason to call us to account for some neglect of duty, at which times we
disliked more his disdainful glance, accompanied, as it invariably was,
by some cold sarcastic allusion to our shortcomings, than the bullying
and bad language of some of the other officers who were not so refined.

Such at all events was the opinion Dick Andrews and Teddy Allison and
the other cadets had of him, as well as myself; though Fred Larkyns, the
big senior midshipman, who patronised us and whom we all liked, he was
such a jolly fellow and up to all sorts of fun, said we would find
"glass-eye" not half a bad chap "when we came to know him better."

Subsequent events will tell how far Mr Larkyns proved to be right in
this conclusion of his; albeit, we demurred to it at the time that he
propounded it in his dogmatic way, rapping poor little Teddy Allison on
the head with a parallel ruler, which he held in his hand at the moment,
for daring to dispute his oracular assertion on the point and making us
all laugh by a capital imitation of the haughty airs of our pet aversion
and his cynical mode of speech, while in the same breath he took his
part, generous lad that he was!

We were all too busy, however, to notice the various peculiarities and
characteristics of our messmates beyond such as we were brought more
immediately in contact with.

Indeed, we had not time even to settle down on board and know each other
properly; for each day added to our company, increasing the number of
strange faces around us, so that I began to wonder when we would at
length get our requisite complement and finish our apparently endless
task of fitting out.

"It is a long lane that has no turning," though, as the old adage goes;
and so, after three weeks more of enrolling volunteers at Corporal
Macan's favourite "rendywoo," and the hoisting in of many guns and boats
and stores and provisions of all sorts, until the _Candahar_, I thought,
would never contain them all, we finally bent our sails, crossed royal
yards and were declared "ready for sea."

Captain Farmer came on board with "all his bag and baggage" on our
ship's company "turning over" from the old hulk _Blake_, to which we all
bade a long and welcome adieu, all hands being then mustered by
divisions to beat of drum along the upper and lower decks.

We were eight hundred strong, all told; officers and men; bluejackets of
all ratings, and marines; boys and "idlers," as some of the
hardest-worked fellows aboard are somewhat inappropriately designated in
the watch bill, according to nautical etiquette; as motley a collection
at the first start, and yet as fine a set of fellows as you could pick
out in a year's cruise!

These preliminaries being all arranged, we cast off from the hulk late
one November afternoon; and, the dockyard tug _Puffing Billy_ taking us
in tow, proceeded to Spithead, where we anchored in eleven fathoms,
letting out some six shackles of cable, so that we could swing
comfortably with the tide as it flowed in and out of the roadstead.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

A LITTLE SURPRISE.

"I suppose," said I, after we had cast anchor, to Larkyns, who had
kindly noticed me the first day I came aboard and had been very friendly
with me since, patronising me in the way the elder boys of the sixth
form sometimes do the younger fellows at school, "we'll sail to-morrow,
eh?"

"Sail to-morrow?  Your grandmother!" he answered with his usual grin.  I
believe that chap would have grinned if you had told him his father was
dead, for he looked on everything from a humorous point of view and
could not help laughing even when the captain spoke to him, which often
got him in for an extra mast-heading.  "Why, we haven't got in our lower
deck guns yet, booby, let alone our powder and ammunition; besides all
sorts of stores we could not ship in harbour!"

"Oh!"  I exclaimed, somewhat crestfallen at his "snub", "I didn't think
of that."

"I suppose not," replied he, mimicking me, "but you have a good deal to
learn yet, let me tell you.  Hullo, though, Master Squaretoes, what do
you mean by coming on the quarter-deck with nails in your boots?  You'll
have the first lieutenant after you, my joker, if he notices it, and
there'll be the dickens to pay, I can tell you!"

"What do you mean?"  I retorted indignantly.  "I have not got any nails
in my boots at all."

"Haven't you, young shaver?" said he, grinning again and looking down
with mock pity at the pumps I wore, which were guiltless of even the
smallest tack, being all sewn, as I held up the soles for his
inspection.  "Then, all I can say is I'm sorry for you!  I really didn't
think you were deformed--and such a young and promising chap, too!"

I got alarmed at this.

"Deformed!"  I repeated.  "What do you mean?"

"Why, if you haven't any nails in your boots, or shoes--it doesn't
matter which, but we'll say boots for argument's sake," said my
tormentor quizzingly--"it follows, naturally and logically, that you
have none on your toes!  In which case, my poor young friend, you must
be suffering from a malformation of the feet; or, in other words, you
are deformed, according to Euclid, _quid demonstrandum est_, twiggy
vous?"

"Oh, yes, I see," said I, feeling rather nettled, I confess, at his thus
taking a rise out of me.  "You think that funny, I suppose; but, I call
it both silly and vulgar!"

"`Silly!' `vulgar!'  You very small fragment of impudence," rejoined
Larkyns, highly delighted at being thus successful in "pulling my leg"
and making me angry, "I'll have you keel-hauled for speaking so
disrespectfully to your superior officer, sir.  Beg my pardon instantly,
or--"

What he would have done, however, in case of my non-compliance with his
imperative request remains a mystery to the present day; for, as at that
moment, the commander, who had been surveying the maintop from the
poop-rail above us, hearing my funny gentleman's voice, which he had
raised in speaking to me, called out to him--

"Below there," he cried--"Mr Larkyns!"

"Yes, sir," answered my "superior officer" humbly enough, touching his
cap and looking up at Commander Nesbitt.  "Want me, sir?"

"Yes," said the other, "There's something wrong with the bunt of that
tops'l, I think.  It does not appear to me quite ship-shape somehow or
other, Mr Larkyns.  Go up to the maintop and see what's the matter with
it at once."

"Ay, ay, sir," replied my tormentor, springing nimbly into the rigging
and shinning up the ratlines almost as soon as the words were out of the
commander's mouth, "I'll see, sir."

I looked up at the moment, and, catching Commander Nesbitt's eye I'm
sure he gave a sort of sly wink, the which impressed on my mind the
conviction that he must have overheard our conversation and, wishing to
give Master Larkyns some employment for his spare time, had sent him
aloft on a wild-goose chase.

The topsail was stowed snugly enough, so, my friend the middy's missive
was set-off to his chaff at my expense.

This conviction was confirmed when the commander immediately afterwards
ordered me to go forwards and tell the boatswain to get the fish tackle
clear for hoisting in the lower deck guns as soon as they came alongside
next morning in the dockyard lighters.

The old _Candahar_, you must know, although she was described in the
"Navy List" of that day as a "two-decker," had really four decks--the
upper deck, main deck, lower deck and orlop deck.

The distinction of the designation lay in the fact that she carried guns
on two decks besides her upper one, the armament of which, as well as
that of her main deck had been got on board easily enough when she was
in harbour; but, as she was then lashed alongside the hulk and the lower
tier of guns had to be taken in through the ports, this operation could
not be very well managed until her broadside was clear of the hull of
the other ship, so that the cannon could be lifted out of the lighters
and swung inboard, without any intervening obstacle blocking the way and
possibly fouling the hoisting tackle and steadying gear, which was not
the case until we reached Spithead.

Even then, it was no trifling task swaying the heavy guns out of the
holds of the two lighters that brought them out to us early in the
morning from the gun-wharf, one of these craft coming under our mainyard
on either side; for, the guns were long thirty-two pounders, weighing
fifty-six hundredweight, or nearly three tons apiece, and, even after
they were hoisted up in mid air from the lighters they had then to be
hauled through one of the midship ports, mounted on their carriages and
run along the lower deck to their proper position, when the breechings
and side tackle had to be fitted before the job was completed.

It was accomplished in good time, however, much to our commander's
satisfaction; and, by the aid of the fish davit with its tackle and
another purchase, it did not take more than a couple of hours to ship
the whole thirty of these guns that comprised our lower deck armament.

What formidable weapons I thought them!  But, they were only babies to
the big rifled breechloaders now in vogue; albeit they did tidy enough
work in the destructive line in their day, as the annals of our navy can
tell, and other nations have experienced to their cost both on land and
sea!

"Pretty little barkers, ain't they?" observed Mr Triggs, the gunner,
noticing me looking at these "long thirty-twos," as they were styled,
and wondering at the light and airy fashion in which the men handled
them, tossing them about like shuttlecocks, so it seemed to me.  "They
can do more than bark; though, they can bite too, I tell ye!"

"Oh, yes, I quite believe that, Mr Triggs," said I, taking advantage of
the opportunity of giving a "snop" to Larkyns, who was also standing by
and, of course, grinning as usual.  "Not all smoke and noise, like some
fellows' talk."

"No, that they ain't, except, in course, when saluting," replied the
gunner, who was a plain matter-of-fact man and did not see the drift of
my observation.  "But, with a ten-pound charge, now, they'd make a
pretty fair hole in a six-inch plank, I tell ye."

"How many of them, Mr Triggs," I asked, "have we got on board?"

"Of these long 'uns?" he said, patting one affectionately on the breech
as he spoke.  "Well, we've jist fifteen here a-port and fifteen
a-starboard, which makes thirty in all on this deck.  A power o' metal,
I tell ye!"

"Oh, I know that," said I.  "But I mean how many of the same sort."

"There ain't any more of the same sort, I tell ye, but what you sees,"
rejoined the gunner a bit crossly.  "The guns as is on the main deck and
upper deck are all short thirty-two's; and, they're thirty too, o' them
on the main, and twenty-two on the upper deck.  They all of 'em carries
the same weight of shot, though not such heavy guns as these, being only
forty-five hundredweight each."

"There, young Vernon, you can put that in your pipe and smoke it!"
chimed in Larkyns, at this juncture, making a face behind the gunner's
back, which, had he seen it, might have altered the opinion that worthy
presently expressed of the speaker.  "That's `the long and the short of
it,' as Mr Triggs has so eloquently explained!"

"Thank you, Mr Larkyns, for the compliment," said the gunner, taking
the remark as a tribute to his conversational ability.  "I allers tries
to explain myself as well as I can.  Is there anything more you'd like
to know, Master Vernon?  I'm allers pleased to instruct any of you young
gentlemen when you asks civilly!"

"You spoke just now of a ten-pound charge," I answered.  "I suppose you
mean of powder without the shot?"

"That's not _charged_," put in Larkyns, grinning.  "The shot is given in
`free, gratis, for nothing,' as Paddy said."

"Yes, Master Vernon," replied the gunner, taking no notice this time of
Larkyns or his interpolation.  "These here guns take a full charge of
ten pounds of powder for long range, and redooced charges of six and
eight pounds; whilst the charges of them on the main and upper deck are
either six or eight pounds, as the case might be, according to the
service required."

"It must take an awful lot of powder for all the eighty-four guns,
besides the shot and shell!"

"You can bet on that," replied Mr Triggs, moving towards the side and
looking through the port in the direction of the harbour.  "We carries
about a hundred rounds of each charge for every gun; or, something like
ninety tons for our whole armament.  That's what it takes."

"Ninety tons of gunpowder!"  I exclaimed in astonishment.  "Do you mean
that we've got to take such a quantity as that on board?"

"Of course I do; I always says what I means and means what I says,"
rejoined Mr Triggs, somewhat snappishly again, as if tired of the long
string of puzzling questions with which I was now bothering him, like I
used to do my dear old Dad.  "By Jingo!  I'm blessed if there it ain't
a-coming off now, I tell ye!"

"Coming off," I repeated.  "Where?"

"There, booby," said Larkyns, slewing me round and shoving my head right
out of the port.

"Can't you see the powder hoy, there to your right, passing Blockhouse
Fort, at the mouth of the harbour?"

"That one flying the red flag, eh?"

"Yes, my dear Squaretoes; but we don't call a burgee a flag aboard
ships."

"I wish you would not call me Squaretoes, Larkyns," said I, peevishly,
for he hurt me, squeezing my neck in his tight grip, holding me out of
the port as if I were a kitten, so that I could not turn my head round.
"I hate nicknames.  Do leave me alone, please!"

"Ah, would you, now!" he exclaimed in reply, as I tried to wrench myself
free.  "Don't cry, my little pet, you haven't got your mammy here to
mollycoddle you!"

"Let me go, Larkyns, you're choking me," I gasped out, wriggling
violently and kicking out behind.  "I'll hurt you if you don't loose me;
I will, indeed!"

He wouldn't release me yet, however, seeing I was out of temper; and,
some of the other middies not on duty gathering round, it being their
watch below, egged Larkyns on, suggesting that as I seemed to think
myself such a "big gun," I ought to be sponged and loaded and run out.

This humorous advice was immediately acted upon, a couple of the gang
laying hold of my legs in spite of my kicks, while another assisted
Larkyns, my tormenter; and the mischievous lot swung me backwards and
forwards in and out of the port, until nearly all my clothes were pulled
off my back and I hadn't a sound button left to my jacket.

I felt hot all over; and was in a fine rage, "I tell you," as the gunner
used to say.

Mr Triggs, meanwhile, had gone up the hatchway to see about getting on
board his ammunition, the vermilion-painted powder hoys I had observed
in the distance at the mouth of the harbour being now nearly alongside
the ship; and, all of a sudden, as my reckless shipmates were pulling me
almost to pieces between them in their mad prank, there came a cry from
the deck above, "Stand clear, below there!"

At the same instant, a coil of rope whizzed by the port-hole out of
which my body projected, the bight of it narrowly escaping my head in
its downward descent, wetting my face with the spray it threw up as it
splashed into the water right under me.

I could not restrain a shriek of alarm; and, wriggling more violently
than before in the hands of those holding me as I tried to release
myself, I managed somehow or other to jerk away from their grasp,
sending them all sprawling backward on the deck inboard, while I shot
out of the port like a catapult, tumbling headlong into the sea as if
taking a header after the rope!



CHAPTER NINE.

MY DIP GAINS ME A DINNER.

Fortunately, though, as I fell, my outstretched hands, clutching wildly
in the air, came in contact with the identical rope whose sudden descent
from the gangway above had been the unwitting cause of the disaster, the
tail end of the "whip" Mr Triggs had ordered to be rigged up from the
lee yardarm, in readiness to hoist in the powder when the hoy bringing
the same was made fast alongside.

This naturally yielded to my weight as I clung to it, on account of the
other end, which passed through a block fastened to the yard, not being
secured.

However, it let me down easy into the water, my unexpected immersion
making no noise to speak of and hardly causing a ripple on the surface
of the tide as it gurgled past the ship's counter and eddied away in
ripples under her stem.

Not a soul on board, indeed, knew of my mishap save those merry
messmates of mine, all of whom doubtless, I thought, as soon as I
regained my composure after the fright and knew that I was comparatively
safe, would be in a great funk, fearing the worst had happened.

Glancing upward, my head being just clear of the water, which I trod to
keep myself in an erect position, holding on, though, all the while,
"like grim death," to the rope, of which I had taken a turn round my
wrist, I saw Larkyns, the ringleader of the frolic, leaning out over the
port sill as pale as a ghost.

He was looking downwards, in every direction but the right one, seeking
vainly to discover me; and he evidently dreaded that I was drowned, his
face being the picture of misery and despair.

"Hist, old chap, don't call out," I whispered in a low voice, as he was
about to give up the search and rouse the ship.  "I'm all right, my
boy."

"My goodness Vernon, is that you?  I thought you were lost, old chap,"
he hailed back in the same key, the expression of his face changing
instantly to one of heartfelt relief.  "Thank God you're not drowned!
But, where are you, old fellow; I can't see you?"

"Right under your very nose, you blind old mole!  I am bent on to a
bight of the whip falls," I answered, with a chuckle.  "Keep the other
end of the rope taut, old chap, and I'll be able to climb up back into
the port without anybody being the wiser but ourselves, my hearty, and
so we'll all escape going into the report."

He grasped the situation in an instant; and, likewise, saw the
advisability of keeping the matter quiet now that I was not in any
imminent peril.

Master Larkyns knew as well as myself that if the tragic result of their
skylarking should get wind and reach the ears of Captain Farmer, he and
his brother mids would have a rough time of it, and probably all be had
up on the quarter-deck.

"All serene, Vernon, I under-constubble," he softly whispered back to
me, in our gunroom slang.  "Do you think you can manage to climb up by
yourself, or shall I come down and help you?"

"Fiddlesticks, you duffer!  I can get up right enough on _my own_
cheek," I said with a titter, though my mouth was full of the brackish
water into which I had plunged at first head and ears over, while my
teeth were chattering with cold, the frosty November air being chilly.
"I shall fancy I'm climbing the greasy pole at a regatta and that you're
the pig on the top, old fellow.  How's that, umpire, for your
`Squaretoes,' eh?"

"Ah, pax!  You're a trump, Jack Vernon, and I promise never to call you
by that name any more as it annoys you," he replied, chuckling at my
joke, though it was at his own expense.  He then leant out of the port
further so as to get a tight grip of the whip fall, the other fellows
holding on to him in turn to prevent his toppling over and joining me
below, singing out as soon as their preparations were completed, calling
out to me, "Are you ready?"

"Ready?"  I repeated, quoting my favourite Napierian motto again.  "Ay
ready!"

"Then, up you come, my joker!  Put your feet in the bight and hold on to
the slack of the rope above your head and we'll hoist you up in regular
man-of-war fashion.  Now, my lads, pull baker, pull devil!"

He spoke under his breath; and yet, I heard every word he said, not only
to me, but to the others inboard, grouped behind him within the port.

Quick as lightning I followed out his directions, clinging to the lower
end of the rope like an eel; and, as soon as I gave the word, Larkyns
and the rest of the mids clapping on to the running part of the whip
falls, which ran through the block above, hoisted me up in a twinkling,
as if I were a sack of flour, to the level of the port sill.

Once there, I was clutched by a dozen eager hands, and my whilom
tormenters dragged me in, all dripping, and landed me on the deck beside
them--"very like a fish," according to the old adage; and bearing just
then the most unmistakable evidence of having come "out of water!"

After thus "landing me," the ends of the whip tackle were dropped again
over the side in the same stealthy manner in which my rescue was
effected, and as promptly.

My frolicsome friends were not an instant too soon; for, even while they
were congratulating me all round, and declaring I was the best of good
fellows for behaving so bravely and not "kicking up a row," though I had
gone overboard so suddenly, the big, broad-beamed powder hoy slewed up
alongside and Mr Triggs bustled down the hatchway.

Immediately after him came Mr Cheffinch, our gunnery lieutenant,
accompanied by a strong working party to ensure the rapid transhipment
of the combustible material and its storage in the magazines; and we
could hear the boatswain piping all hands on the upper deck to man the
whip falls of the hoists and lowering tackle.

I at once rushed away to my chest in the steerage, to change my wet
clothes, hoping to return as quickly as I could to see what was going
on, without my plight being seen or anyone knowing what had happened to
get me into such a drenched condition; but, unfortunately, Corporal
Macan caught sight of me as I was struggling to open my chest, for my
fingers were so numbed with the cold that the keys I held in my hand
jingled like castanets.

"Begorrah an' it's a purty state ye're in, sor," he said, eyeing me with
much commiseration.  "Sure an' ye've got the aguey."

"Nonsense, Macan," I answered shortly, wishing to shut him up at once,
for he was Dr Nettleby's factotum and if he got hold of the story it
would soon be all over the ship.  "I've only been splashed with some
water and want to shift my rig, that's all."

"Sphlashed is it, sor?" he repeated with a broad grin that completely
shut out the rest of his face.  "Faith, if ye was to axe me I'd tell ye,
begorrah, ye looks loike a drowned rat, sor!"

"None of your impudence, corporal," I said with dignity, not liking his
easy familiarity; though, poor fellow, he did not mean any harm by it,
as it was only his Irish way of speaking; "I'll report you to the
sergeant."

"An' is it rayporting _me_, sor, you'd be afther, an' you thremblin' all
over," he rejoined, catching hold of me and helping to peel off my
soaking garments.  "Faith, sor, I'll be afther rayportin' _you_ to the
docthor!"

"Hi, hullo, who's taking my name in vain?" at that moment exclaimed Dr
Nettleby himself, emerging from the gunroom at this critical juncture,
the worthy medico having been making his rounds, looking up some of
those of his patients who were not actually on the sick list.  "I'm sure
I heard that Irish blackguard Macan's voice somewhere.  Ah, it is you,
corporal, as I thought!  Hi, hullo, what's the matter, youngster?"

"I--I'm all right, sir," said I, trying to rise, but sinking back again
on the lid of my chest, where I had been sitting down while the
good-natured marine was endeavouring to pull off my wet boots.  "It is
nothing, sir."

"He's bin taking a dip in the say, sir, wid all his clothes on,"
explained Macan; "an' faith he's got a bit damp, sir."

"Damp, you call it, corporal?  Why, he's dripping wet and chilled to the
bone!" cried the doctor, feeling my pulse.  "How did this come about,
youngster?"

"It was an accident, sir," I replied hesitatingly, not wishing to
incriminate my messmates.  "I would rather not speak of it, doctor, if
you'll excuse me."

"Oh, I see, skylarking, eh?  Well, well, you must go to bed at once, or
you'll be in a high fever before sundown.  Corporal Macan!"

"Yis, sor."

"Take this young gentleman to the sick bay and put him into a clean cot
with plenty of blankets round him.  By the way, too, corporal, ask Dr
McGilpin to let you have a stiff glass of hot grog."

"For mesilf, sor?"

"No, you rascal, confound your cheek!  Certainly not," replied the
doctor, amused by the question.  "This young gentleman is to take it as
hot as he can drink it.  It will throw him into a perspiration and make
him sleep.  Do you hear, youngster?"

"Y-es, sir," I stammered out as well as I could, for my teeth were
chattering again and I was shaking all over.  "Bu-but I'd rather not go
to the sick bay, sir, if you don't mind.  I don't want anyone to hear of
wha--what has hap-hap-happened."

"Ah, yes, I see," said Dr Nettleby.  "You're afraid of some of your
nice messmates getting hauled over the coals?  I bet that madcap Larkyns
is at the bottom of it; I saw him with you close to one of the ports
just now, as I passed by on my way down here, and I wondered what
mischief you were up to!  Well, well, I respect you, my boy, for not
telling tales out of school, as the old saying goes; so, I won't split
on you.  Carry the youngster to my cabin, Macan, and then nobody will
know anything about the matter.  See here, I will look after you myself,
youngster and keep you a prisoner till you're all right again.  What
d'you think of that, now?"

"Th-a-nk you, doctor," said I, faintly, for I felt very weak and giddy,
everything seeming to be whirling round me.  "I'll--"

"Yes, yes, I know; all right, my boy, all right," interrupted the
kind-hearted, old fellow, stopping any further attempt to speak on my
part; and the brawny corporal of marines at the same instant lifting me
up in his arms as if I were a baby, I lost consciousness, the last thing
I recollect hearing being the doctor's voice, sounding, though, far away
as if a mile off, like a voice in a dream, saying to me in the soft,
purring tone he always adopted when in a specially good temper, "Here,
drink this, my boy, and go to sleep!"

"Faith an' sure ye're awake at last!" exclaimed Corporal Macan when I
opened my eyes, a minute or so after this, as I thought.  "How d'ye fale
now, sor?"

"Hullo!" said I, raising my head and looking round me in astonishment.
"Where am I?"

"In Dr Nittleby's own cabin, sure," answered the Irishman, grinning;
"an' by the same token, sor, as he wor called away by the cap'en, he
lift me here for to say, he tould me, whither ye wor di'd or aloive,
sure, whin ye woke up."

"I feel awfully hungry, Corporal Macan," said I, after a pause to
reflect on the situation.  "Have I been asleep long?"

"Ivver since Siven Bells, sure, in the forenoon watch, sor."

"And what's the time now?"

"Close on Four Bells in the first dog watch, sor."

"Good gracious me!"  I exclaimed in consternation, tossing off a lot of
blankets that lay on the top of me and jumping out of the big bunk that
was like a sofa, where I had been sleeping, on to the deck of the cabin;
when I found I was attired only in a long garment, which must have been
one of the doctor's nightshirts, for it reached down considerably below
my feet, tripping me up on my trying to walk towards the door.  "Where
are my clothes?"

"Here, sor," replied the corporal, equal to the occasion, taking up a
bundle that was lying on one of the lockers and proceeding to spread out
my uniform, jacket and trousers and other articles of wearing apparel
seriatim, on the top of the bed-place; Macan smoothing down each with
the palm of his hand as if he were grooming a horse.  "I had 'em dried
at the galley foire, sor, whilst ye wor a-slapin'."

"Thank you, corporal," I said, dressing as quickly as I could with his
assistance; the marine, like most of his class, being a handy, useful
fellow and not a bad valet on a pinch.  "I must hurry up.  I wonder if I
can get any dinner in the gunroom."

"Faith ye're too late for that, sor," answered Macan with much concern.
"An' for tay, too, sor, as will.  It's all cleared away this hour an'
more."

"Oh, dear, what shall I do?"  I ejaculated as I dragged on my boots,
which had not been improved by their dip in the sea and subsequent
roasting on top of a hot iron stove, although I noticed they had been
nicely polished by the corporal.  "I feel hungry enough to `eat a horse
and chase the rider,' as I heard a fellow say the other day!"

"Ye must fale betther, sor, if you're hoongry," observed Macan on my
completing my toilet and donning my cap again.  "That's a raal good sign
whin ye're inclined fur to ate--at laste that's what the docther sez."

"Providing you've got something to eat!"  I rejoined ruefully, for I
knew there wouldn't be much left if the gunroom fellows had cleared out.
"What did Doctor Nettleby say was the matter with me, eh?"

"He s'id ye wor a comet, sor."

"A comet?"  I repeated, laughing.  "You're making a mistake, corporal."

"The divil a ha'porth, sor.  He called ye that same."

"Nonsense, man!"  I said.  "The doctor made use of some medical term,
probably, which you don't understand."

"Mebbe, sor, for I'm no scholard, worse luck!" replied the corporal,
unconvinced.  "The docther do sometime bring out one of them outlandish
wurrds that nayther the divvil nor Father Murphy, more power to him!
could make out at all at all; but, whin ye dhropped down this afthernoon
on the dick alongside o' yer chist, an' I picked ye up, he says, sez he,
ye was ayther a `comet,' or in a `comet house,' or somethin' loike that,
I'll take me oath wid me dyin' breath, though what the divvil he manes,
I'm sure I can't say, sor!"

"Oh, I see now!"  I exclaimed, a light suddenly flashing on me as to his
meaning.  "I must have fainted away and the doctor told you I was in a
comatose state, eh?"

"An' isn't that, sure, a comet, sor, as I tould ye!" cried the Irishman,
triumphantly.  "Hullo, here's Peters, the cap'en's stooard dodgin' about
the gangway.  I wondther what he's afther?"

I walked out of the cabin as he spoke, and the man he referred to came
up to me at once.

"Beg pardon, sir," said he, civilly, touching his forelock in salute.
"Mr Vernon, sir, I believe?"

"Yes," I replied, rather anxious to learn what was wanted of me, "that
is my name."

"Cap'en Farmer presents his compliments, sir, and requests the pleasure
of your company to dinner this evening."

"Give my compliments to the captain, and say that I shall be most happy
to accept his kind invitation," I answered, putting on my most dignified
manner, as if it was quite an everyday occurrence for me to be asked to
dinner by officers of the highest rank; though, I felt inclined to jump
with joy at the prospect, especially under the circumstances of my
famished condition.  "What time do you serve up dinner, steward?"

"We allers dines at Four Bells, sir," said he, with equal dignity,
conscious of his position apparently as captain's steward, and at the
same time not oblivious of the fact that I was only a naval cadet.  "In
ten minutes time, sir, dinner will be on the table."

"All right, my man, I'll be there," I replied in an off-hand way, as he
went on towards the wardroom, opposite to where we were standing; and I
added aside to the corporal, "I don't think there's any fear of my being
late!"

"Faith, the divil doubt ye, sor," said Macan in reply to this, breaking
into a broad grin as he set to work methodically to put the doctor's
cabin straight again, while I turned to go below to my proper quarters,
with the intention of making myself smart for the forthcoming feast.
"Musha, I wudn't loike to be the dish foreninst ye, sor, if ye can ate a
hoss, as ye s'id jist now!"

A few minutes later, attired in my best uniform, I was ushered by the
marine sentry, who stood without the doorway, into the big after-cabin
beneath the poop that served for Captain Farmer's reception-room.

This was a handsome apartment, hung round with pictures and decorated
with choice hothouse flowers and evergreens, as unlike as possible
anything one might expect to find on board ship.

The very gun-carriages on either side were concealed by drapery, as well
as the windows at the further end which opened on to the stern gallery,
that projected, like a balcony, over the shimmering sea beneath, whereon
the lights from the ports played and danced on the rippling tide in a
hundred broken reflections, the evening having closed in and it now
being quite dark around.

I was received very kindly by Captain Farmer.

He was a short and rather stout man, so he looked uncommonly funny in
his mess jacket, which, according to the custom of the service, was cut
in the Eton fashion and gave him a striking resemblance to an over-grown
schoolboy, as I thought; but, I soon forgot his appearance, his manner
was so charming, while his anxiety to set me at my ease seemed as great
as if I had been an admiral at the least, instead of being only little
Jack Vernon, naval cadet!

The doctor was talking to him when I came in; and he spoke to me very
cordially, too, feeling my pulse as he shook hands with me.

"Ha!  No fear of your kicking the bucket yet, my little friend," he said
in his dry way, as we all proceeded into the fore cabin, where dinner
was laid, Captain Farmer leading the way as soon as his steward Peters
intimated that everything was ready.  "No cold or fever after your
sudden chill, thanks to my prescription!  But, I won't answer for
consumption after your long fast.  I can see from your eye, youngster,
you'll have a bad attack of that presently, eh?  Ho, ho, ho!"

Of course I grinned at this; and, I may state at once, that, by the time
the repast was concluded, I had fully justified the doctor's sapient
prediction, being blessed with the healthiest of appetites and a good
digestion, which my temporary indisposition had in nowise impaired.

Mr Cheffinch, our gunnery lieutenant, who was one of the other guests,
sat beside me, and from a remark or two he made I discovered that not
only did he know of my adventure, but that the captain was also
cognisant with the circumstances of the case, although the facts had not
been officially communicated to him and he was not supposed to be aware
of what had happened.

"He thinks you behaved very pluckily, youngster," observed Mr Cheffinch
in the most gracious way, when informing me of this.  "Ay and so do we
all in the wardroom, let me tell you!"

"I'm sure I don't know what I have done to deserve your praise, sir,"
said I, feeling quite abashed by all these compliments.  "It was all an
accident."

"It is not so much what you did as what you didn't do, youngster," he
replied, frankly enough.  "You didn't show any funk or make a fuss when
you fell overboard, and you did not wish to get your messmates into a
scrape when Dr Nettleby--he told us this himself in confidence--found
out the state you were in and made inquiries.  In so doing, you behaved
like a true sailor and a gentleman, and we're all proud to have such a
promising brother officer amongst us, young Vernon, I assure you.  If
you go on as you have begun, you'll be a credit to the service."

Such a flattering eulogium made me blush like a peony, and I was very
glad when the captain presently proposed the toast of "The Queen," which
we drank, all standing.

This being satisfactorily done, taking that hint from the doctor that I
had "better turn in early and have a good night's rest after all the
exertions I had gone through," as a sort of reminder that they had seen
enough of me for the occasion, I paid my adieux to the captain and
company and went on deck, where I remained while the watch was being
called at Eight Bells.

I need hardly add that, in this interval, I ruminated over the strange
succession of events that had taken place within so short a period;
events which, possibly, might make, as they just as probably might have
marred, my entire future career in the service--ay, and, perhaps, have
ended it altogether, but for God's good providence!



CHAPTER TEN.

"DEBTOR AND CREDITOR."

For a couple of days longer, we were as busy as bees, taking in our
boats and spare spars and other gear, besides filling up our stock of
provisions and water and completing with stores of all sorts; until
Saturday arrived, the last day of our stay at Spithead, when all our
preparations were finished and all hands, likewise, paid their advance
of two months' pay, prior to our sailing for China.

No one was allowed on shore that afternoon, for fear of desertion; but,
to make amends for this stoppage of all leave, the men were granted
permission generally to receive their friends on board, so as to get rid
of all the loose cash they were debarred from spending in more
legitimate fashion on land.

The consequence of this licence was, that the ship was crowded from stem
to stern with strangers of every description, shape and sex, from
dinner-time to dusk; Jew and Gentile, kinsman and creditor, each and all
alike in turn, having a final tug at poor Jack's purse-strings, striving
to ease him of his superfluous wealth before departure.

As may readily be imagined, some queer customers came aboard; and some
curious scenes took place, both of the sentimental and comic order.

One of these latter I especially noticed; for it occurred under my very
eyes, within earshot of where I was standing by the gangway.

"Downy," as the men called him, the whilom digger of graves, who had so
puzzled Commander Nesbitt on the first day of his joining, by giving his
profession so peculiar a designation, had come on board without any sort
of an outfit for the voyage.

So, at last not being able to go ashore to buy a stock of clothes on
receiving his advance pay, the purser at that time not supplying the
men, as is the custom nowadays, with what they required, the morose
gentleman was obliged to have recourse to Poll Nash, one of the bumboat
women, who had brought off a lot of "slop" clothing for those requiring
a rig-out, and was selling the same on her own terms to all comers as
quickly as she could dispose of her stock.

To her, therefore, Master "Downy" now applied, having nothing beyond the
rather shabby suit of black in which he stood up, which was certainly
somewhat unsuitable, to say the least, for a sailor's wear, particularly
a man-o'-war's man, as the once gravedigger had been transformed into.

He had well-nigh fully invested, in this way, the entire amount he had
just received from the purser, Mr Nipper, on account of his advance pay
as an "ordinary seaman," that being his rating; when, I noticed, a
dark-faced, long-nosed gentleman come up to him and speak.

The two then got into a violent altercation that speedily attracted
everyone's attention, a small crowd gathering round the disputants just
abaft the mainmast.

"I tell you I haven't a ha'penny left," I heard "Downy" say, after a lot
of words passing between them the gist of which I could not catch.  "No,
not a ha'penny left, I swear.  I've paid it all to this good lady here
for clothes!"

"You haven't paid me for the monkey jacket yet," interposed Mrs Poll
Nash, the bumboat woman, who was holding up the garment in question,
waiting for the coin to be passed over before parting with it, the good
lady having in her career learnt the wisdom of caution.  "That'll make
three pun' seventeen-and-six in all.  Now, look sharp, my joker, or I'll
chuck the duds back into the wherry.  I ain't a-going to wait all day
for my money, I tell you!"

"I'll let you have it in a minute," whined "Downy," who was apparently
afraid to show what he had in his pocket, the dark gentleman's eye being
upon him.  "Can't you give a fellow time?  I ain't a-going to run away."

"Ye vood, ye liar, presshus shoon if ye 'ad arf a shance, I bet, s'help
me!" shouted out the other man, who, from his speech, was evidently a
Hebrew and a creditor.  "Ye're von tarn sheet, dat's vot ye vas, a
bloomin' corpse swindler, vot sheets de living, s'help me, and rops ze
dead!  I shpit upon ye, I does!"

"Come, come, you fellows there, I can't allow such language on board
this ship," sang out from the poop Lieutenant Jellaby, the officer of
the watch, when matters had come to this pass.  "Ship's corporal, bring
those men here!"

In obedience to this command, the two disputants were both brought aft,
Poll Nash following also, being an interested party, to get back her
clothes or the money from "Downy."

The latter was at once recognised by Lieutenant Jellaby, a jolly fellow,
in whose watch I was.  He went by his Christian name of "Joe" amongst us
all, being very good-natured and always full of fun and chaff.

"Hullo!" he exclaimed.  "You're the gravedigger, ain't you?"

"Yes, sir," replied "Downy" sedately, as his original profession
probably inculcated.  "That were my humble calling, sir."

"Why did you give it up, eh?"

"Trade got slack, sir."

"How was that?"

"Porchmouth's too healthy a place, sir," answered the man, as grave as a
judge.  "People won't die there fast enough, sir, for my trade; so I had
to turn it up, 'cause I couldn't make a decent living out of 'em."

"By burying them, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir," answered the man, seriously.  "That is, when I were lucky
enough to get a job."

"Well, that's a rum start, a fellow complaining of not being able to
make a living out of the dead!" said Joe Jellaby to me, smiling; and
then, turning again to the man he continued, "now, tell me what all this
row is about?"

Here the Jew, who introduced himself as the keeper of a lodging-house in
Portsea, put in his word.

"Dis shcoundrel vas owe me five blooming pounds," he cried out
excitedly.  "I vash keep him ven he vash shtarving; and now, ven he got
money, he von't shettle.  He's a shvindler and a tief, s'help me; and I
shvear I'll have the law on him!"

"Why don't you pay this man if you owe him anything?" said the
lieutenant, sharply, to "Downy."

"You've received your advance money from the paymaster, have you not?"

"Yes, sir; but I'd better tell you the whole story, sir," said the
ex-gravedigger.  "I acknowledge owing Mister Isaacs some money, though
he's piled it on pretty thick, I must say; for I were four weeks out of
work and had to board at his place."

"Yes, s'help me, and ate and drank of the best, too.  Oh, Father Moses,
how he did eat!" interrupted his creditor.  "Look you, sir, it's only a
mean shcoundrel that voud call a pound a week too much for good vittles.
I'll put it thick on him, I will!"

"Stop that, or I'll have you turned out of the ship at once," said Mr
Jellaby, as the Jew made a dart at "Downy," who dodged behind the marine
sentry on the quarter-deck; while he repeated his injunction to the
defaulter.  "Pay the man his money and let him go."

"I can't, sir.  I've expended all my money in buying clothes of this
good lady here," explained Downy, pointing to the fat, old bumboat
woman.  "I hadn't a stitch to my back and had to get a rig-out for the
voyage, sir."

"Yes, sir, he's 'ad three shirts, as is twelve-and-six, and cheap at the
price, too, sir," corroborated Mistress Poll Nash, with a low curtsey to
the lieutenant.  "Yes, sir, and two pair of trousers for thirty
shillin', besides a hoilskin and a serge jumper; and this monkey jacket
here, sir, which makes three pun' seventeen-and-six, sir."

"Well, well, I suppose the calculation is all right," said Joe, laughing
at her volubility and the queer way in which she bobbed a curtsey
between each item of her catalogue.  Then, addressing poor "Downy" he
cried out curtly, "Turn out your pockets!"

The ex-gravedigger sadly produced four sovereigns.

"Is that all the money you've got?"

"Yes, sir," replied "Downy," in a still more sepulchral tone.  "Every
ha'penny."

"Then, pay this woman here, for you must have a rig-out for the voyage,"
said the lieutenant.  "I'm afraid, Mr Isaacs, you'll have to wait till
your debtor returns from China for the settlement of your claim.  Your
friend, the gravedigger here, will then probably have lots of loot; and,
be better able to discharge his debt."

"Ach, holy Moses!" cried the Jew, refusing with spluttering indignation
the half-a-crown change "Downy" received from Polly Nash, and which he
handed to his other creditor with great gravity as an instalment of his
claim.  "He vill nevaire gome back to bay me."

"Oh yes he will," said Joe Jellaby, chaffingly, "and probably, he'll
bury you, too, for joy at seeing your pleasant face again--all for love,
my man."

Mr Isaacs, however, got furious at this and used such abusive language
both to "Downy" and the lieutenant that the latter gave orders at last
for him to be shown over the side.

This order was instantly carried out by the ship's corporal, with the
assistance of the master-at-arms, who had now arrived on the scene, when
the incident terminated; but we could hear the Jew still cursing and
swearing, and calling on his patron saint, Father Moses, for a long
while after, as he was being rowed ashore.

Shortly before evening quarters, all strangers were ordered also to go
ashore; and, later on, the captain came off, bringing word that we were
to sail early the following morning.

I heard him tell Commander Nesbitt that he had better begin shortening
in cable at daylight, so that we might weigh anchor immediately after
breakfast.

"Very good, sir," the commander replied.  "But who is this with you,
sir--another youngster?"

"Yes; he's Admiral Mills's son," said Captain Farmer, much to my
delight, for I had not noticed my old friend, Master Tom, who was the
very last fellow I expected to see.  "I have taken him to oblige his
father, though he hasn't quite completed his time on board the
_Illustrious_."

"Oh, he won't lose anything by that," rejoined Commander Nesbitt, who
did not have a very high opinion of my old training-ship, as I have
already pointed out; and, just then, seeing me standing by, he said,
"Take this young gentleman down to the gunroom, Vernon, and make him
comfortable.  I suppose you are already acquainted, both of you coming
from the same ship?"

"Oh yes, sir," I answered glibly enough, overjoyed at having little
Tommy Mills as a messmate once more.  "He and I are old chums, sir."

"Indeed?  Then there's no need for my introducing you," said the
commander, with his genial laugh, which it was quite a pleasure to hear
sometimes, it put one so much at one's ease.  "Mind though, youngster,
not too much skylarking when you get below.  We don't want any more of
that overboard business on board here, you know."

Of course I sniggered at this, understanding the allusion; but,
naturally, Tom was not in the secret, and I had a good deal to tell him
when I got him below.

The two of us took our seats on one of the lockers in a quiet corner of
the gunroom and had such a very long chat, that we were only interrupted
by Larkyns flinging a boot at us at Four Bells, calling out that it was
high time for us to turn in to our hammocks.

He wanted to go to sleep he told us; for he would have to go on deck to
take the middle watch at midnight, which was as close-handy as the boot
he had sent at our heads to remind us!

This set us both giggling, which brought the companion boot to our
corner, where it thumped against the bulkhead, grazing little Tom's nose
and making him sniff.

However, this second missile had the desired end of sending us off; and
so we left Master Larkyns to enjoy his repose undisturbed any longer by
our chatter.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

"SHORTENING IN CABLE."

"Rouse out, port watch and idlers!  Rouse out! rouse out!" hoarsely
shouted out the boatswain's mates along the lower deck; and this call,
mingled with the shrill piping wail of their whistles and the tramp of
hurrying feet as the men straggled up the hatchway to stow their
hammocks in the nettings above, awoke me from my slumbers next morning
in the dreary semi-darkness of the so-called daylight.

I was so tired and sleepy that I was hardly half-roused even by all this
uproar.  Indeed, I was just dropping off again, when Dick Andrews, one
of my fellow cadets from the training-ship, who had joined the
_Candahar_ the same time as myself and was rather a bumptious and
overbearing sort of chap, shook me violently.

"Turn out, you lazy lubber, turn out," he shouted.  "It's long past
Eight Bells, and old Bitpin, who has taken Joe Jellaby's watch and is
looking after the men scrubbing decks, has been asking for you.  He's in
a fine temper this morning, Master John Vernon, I can tell you; so,
you'd better look sharp, my lad, or you'll `catch Tommy' when he sees
you."

"Oh, bother!"  I cried, with a yawn that nearly dislocated my jaw,
shoving a leg over the side of my hammock lazily enough, loth to leave
my snug, warm nest for the cold, uncomfortable quarter-deck, where I
knew there would be a lot of water sluicing about and the men
holystoning, to make it more unpleasant.  "I wish you wouldn't call me
names, Andrews!  You're not so awfully smart at rousing out yourself,
that you can afford to brag about it!  Why, Larkyns had to drag you
round the gunroom last night in your nightshirt before he could make you
wake up."

"Larkyns is a bully!" exclaimed Andrews, angrily.  "He's a mean,
cowardly bully!"

"Is he, my joker?" said that identical individual, whose approach was
unnoticed by either of us, catching his slanderer a crack on the head
which sent him spinning.  "There, take that in proof of your statement!
If I'm a bully, Mr Andrews, I must act as such, or you'll call me a
liar next!"

"I was only joking," snivelled Dick, picking himself up and rubbing his
cheek ruefully.  "I didn't mean anything."

"Neither did I," replied Larkyns, drily, as he peeled off his jacket and
the thick woollen comforter he had wrapped round his neck to keep out
the chilly night air, and prepared to turn in after his watch on deck so
as to have a nice snooze before breakfast.  "I only gave you a striking
proof of my devoted friendship for you, old chappie, that's all!"

With which parting words, he dexterously jumped into his hammock,
rolling himself up like a worm in the blankets within; and, such was the
facility of habit, I declare he was snoring like a grampus ere I had
completed my dressing, although I scrambled into my clothes as quickly
as I could, and hurried out of the steerage.

I left Dick Andrews still rubbing his cheek disconsolately and muttering
impotent threats against his now unconscious assailant; but, he didn't
do this until he was certain Larkyns could not hear good wishes on his
behalf!

On going up the hatchway, I found all hands busy scrubbing and washing
down the decks, which were in a precious mess.

There was a fair division of labour in carrying out the operation, the
topmen and after-guard scouring the planks with sand; after which the
decks were flushed fore and aft with floods of water pumped up by the
"idlers."

Those are really a most useful and industrious class of misnamed men
consisting of the carpenters, sailmakers, coopers, blacksmiths and other
artificers, besides the cook's mates and yeomen of stores.

In our ship the lot numbered no less than some seventy in all, who every
morning assisted in this praiseworthy task!

Creeping up as quietly as I could and trying to avoid observation from
the squinting eye of Mr Bitpin, our fourth lieutenant, who was the
oldest in seniority although he occupied such a subordinate position, I
made my way to the side of Ned Anstruther, the midshipman of the watch,
who stood on the weather side of the quarter-deck on a coil of rope so
as to keep his feet out of the way of the water that was swishing round.

Ned nodded me a greeting; and, I fancied myself safe, when in an instant
my presence was noted by the lieutenant, who turned on me.

"Hullo, youngster!" he called out, looking down from the break of the
poop, whence he had been surveying operations, finding fault with the
men beneath in quick succession, according to his general wont, and
having a snap and a snarl at everyone.  His temper, never a good one
originally, had been soured by a bad digestion and ill luck in the way
of promotion, the poor beggar having been passed over repeatedly by men
younger than himself.  "How is it you were not here when the watch was
mustered?"

"I'm very sorry, sir," said I, apologetically.  "I overslept myself,
sir."

"Oh, indeed?  You'd better not be late again when I'm officer of the
watch, or I'll have you spread-eagled in the mizzen rigging as a warning
to others, like they nail up crows against a barn door ashore.  That'll
make you sharper next time, my joker!  Do you hear me, youngster?"

"Yes, sir," said I, touching my cap.  "I hear you, sir."

"Very well, then.  Mind you heed as well as hear!" he replied
snappishly, rather disappointed, I thought, at my making no further
answer, or trying to argue the point with him.  "You can go down now to
the wardroom steward and tell him to get me a cup of coffee as quickly
as he can.  Now, don't be a month of Sundays about it!  Say it must be
hot and strong, and not like that dish-water he brought me yesterday;
or, I'll put him in the list and stop his grog!  Do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," I said respectfully as before, giving no occasion for
offence so as to come in for more grumbling on his part.  "I hear you,
sir."

"Confound that youngster, I can't catch him anyhow!"  I heard him mutter
to himself as if uttering his thoughts aloud, as I turned away with
another touch of my cap and left the quarter-deck to fulfil my errand.
"He's like those monkeys at the Rock--too artful to speak.  Keeps his
tripping lines too taut for that!"

He was quite right; for, three weeks' association on board, though I had
been brought little in contact with him, had taught me to know his
character pretty well.  I had learnt that the best way to get on with
Mr Bitpin was, to let him do all the talking and only to answer him
when necessity required.

It was advisable also that the reply should be made in the fewest words
possible, such a course giving him no ground for further complaint.

When I returned, some few minutes later, with the desired refreshment
for the lieutenant, which I brought up myself, thus saving the wardroom
steward, who was a very decent fellow, a probable wigging besides
getting a cup of coffee myself as a bonus for performing the service, I
found the decks swabbed and almost dry; the ropes, too, were all coiled
and flemished down handsomely, and everything around looking as neat as
a new pin.

Mr Bitpin, also, was in a better humour, a sip of the smoking coffee,
which apparently was just to his taste, adding to his content at the
scrubbing operations having been accomplished to his satisfaction.

"Thank you, my boy, for bringing this," he said, with a smack of his
lips as he took a good long gulp of the grateful fluid, giving an
approving nod to me.  "That lazy steward would have taken half-an-hour
at least if you had left it to him.  When I'm as young as you are, I'll
do as much for you."

I grinned at this, as did Ned Anstruther, who likewise winked in a
knowing way to me behind Mr Bitpin's broad back; but, before I could
reply to the lieutenant's complimentary speech, Commander Nesbitt made
his appearance on the poop, having come up the after-hatchway and gone
into and out of the captain's cabin again, without either of us seeing
him.

"Ah, good morning, Mr Bitpin," he said, looking somewhat surprised at
seeing that gentleman there.  "I thought Mr Jellaby had the morning
watch to-day?"

"So he had, sir," answered the lieutenant, hastily putting down his
empty cup under the binnacle out of sight of the commander, who he knew
disliked anything out of order on deck.  "But, sir, Mr Jellaby was late
off last night from the admiral's ball, and he begged me to take the
duty for him.  It is a great nuisance; for, I only turned in at Two
Bells in the middle watch, myself.  Of course, though, I couldn't be
disobliging, you know, sir."

"Of course not, Mr Bitpin," said Commander Nesbitt, amused at this
unexpected piece of good nature from one who very seldom put himself out
for anybody.  "It does not matter in the least; but, I told Jellaby I
wished to shorten in cable as soon as the decks were washed down."

"He didn't tell me anything about that, sir, when he came on board this
morning; for I met him at the gangway," growled out the crusty
lieutenant in his usual surly way.  "He was full of some Miss Thingamy's
dancing and made me sick by telling me at least twenty times over what a
`chawming gurl' she was!"

"No doubt of that.  He's a rare chap amongst the ladies, is our friend
Jellaby!" said Commander Nesbitt laughing at Mr Bitpin's imitation of
Joe's favourite expression.  "We must see now, though, about shortening
in without any further delay, for time's getting on."

"Very good, sir," replied the lieutenant, dropping his unwonted
jocularity and relapsing into his matter-of-fact official manner.  "I'd
better go on the fo'c's'le and join Mr Morgan, the mate of the watch,
who's already there."

"Thank you, Mr Bitpin," briefly said the commander by way of dismissal;
and then, bending over the poop-rail, he called out, "Bosun's mate!
Pipe all hands to shorten cable!"

"Ay, ay, sir," answered the petty officer addressed, putting his whistle
to his mouth and blowing a shrill, ear-piercing call that echoed through
the ship and was taken up by his brother mates below on the main and
lower decks, whose voices could be heard, in every key, gruffly shouting
out fore and aft, until the sound gradually died away in the distant
recesses of the hold, "All hands, shorten cable!"

Immediately, as if touched by an enchanter's wand, the quiet that had
reigned on board since the decks had been washed down disappeared, and
all was bustle and apparent confusion; although, it need hardly be said,
order was paramount everywhere.

Such, indeed, is always on board a man-of-war, where each man knows his
place and takes care to be in it as quickly as he can; especially when
"all hands" are called as in the present instance.

In this case, as now, all the crew turn out and come on deck to their
stations, whether it be their watch below or not.

Up, therefore, tumbled the men of the starboard watch, who had only been
relieved from duty an hour before, at the same time I was first roused
out by the obliging Dick Andrews.

After the men, but a little more leisurely, came the other officers not
already on deck.

Amongst these were, the Honourable Digby Lanyard, our swell first
lieutenant, eyeglass in eye as usual, and dressed as neatly as if going
to divisions, although he had only such very short notice for his
toilet; Joe Jellaby, the proper officer of my watch, whose place Mr
Bitpin had taken for the nonce, rubbing his eyes and only half awake
from his dreams of "that chawming gurl" at the admiral's ball; Charley
Gilham, our third lieutenant, a manly, blue-eyed sailor and fond of his
profession, but no bookworm and bad at head-work; Mr Cheffinch, or
"Gunnery Jack" as he was styled; the three other mates; and, all the
middies and cadets, including Larkyns.

The latter was wroth at his ante-prandial snooze being so suddenly cut
short; while Andrews, who followed in his rear, was savage at meeting
his late antagonist so soon again, his friendly feelings towards whom
were not increased by the foot of Larkyns giving him a "lift" up the
hatchway as the pair scrambled on deck together, the cadet,
unfortunately for himself, being a trifle ahead of the midshipman.

The first lieutenant, or "glass-eye" as the men called him, went out at
once on the forecastle, where a number of the hands, under the
superintendence of Mr Hawser, the boatswain, were already engaged
rigging the fish davit and overhauling the anchor gear, with Mr Bitpin
and Morgan looking on to see that everything was done properly.

"Charley" Gilham, and "Gunnery Jack," stopped down on the main deck to
look after the capstan, which was soon surrounded by a squad of
"jollies" under the command of one of the marine officers, Lieutenant
Wagstaff, a fellow as tall as a maypole and with a headpiece of very
similar material!

Mr Jellaby, however, not knowing where his deputy, Mr Bitpin, might
be, came up on the quarter-deck; but he had no sooner appeared there
than the commander despatched him to another station.

"Please go down at once to the lower deck, Mr Jellaby," said he, on
catching sight of him.  "I want you to attend to the working of the
cables.  See how smart you can be with those new hands we have from the
foretop!"

"Very good, sir," replied "Joe," all on the alert in an instant.  "I
will go down directly."

Away he accordingly went; whereupon, I, having nothing special to do,
and seeing everyone else appointed to some station or other, was just
scuttling down the hatchway after him when the Commander called me back.

"Stop here, Mr Vernon," he cried.  "I want you to act as my messenger
again.  Try if you can be as useful as the one they have to bring in the
cable with.  I suppose you know what sort of `messenger' that is, eh?"

"Oh, yes, sir," I replied glibly enough.  "It is a species of endless
chain, passing round the base of the capstan amidships, and through a
stationary block called a `controller' on the forepart of the lower
deck, to which the cable is attached by nippers as it comes through the
hawse-hole inboard; and, as the capstan is hove round, the messenger
drags the cable up, the nippers being released and taken forward again
to get a fresh grip, while the slack of the cable passes down the deck
pipes into the cable lockers below, sir."

"Very well answered, youngster," said Commander Nesbitt, approvingly,
when I had reeled off this long yarn.  "But, I think, it's about time
for Mr Jellaby to give us the signal for heaving round now."

He liked things done smartly, did the commander, for he knew how they
should be done; and, being prompt and ready in his own actions, judged
others by himself.

Barely five minutes had elapsed since "all hands" had been piped, and in
that interval the cable had to be unbitted and the "slip" stopping it to
the deck knocked off by the blacksmith.

In addition to this, the messenger had to be brought up to the unbitted
end and the nippers gripped on before those working the capstan on the
main deck above could commence heaving round in order to "bring in the
shekels, like unto the Israelites of old and the Hebrews of the present
day," as Master Larkyns explained to me later; and yet, the commander
grew impatient at the delay, in spite of all this having to be done in
such a short space of time.

But, at last, the signal was given.

"Heave round!" snouted Mr Jellaby from the extreme fore-end of the
lower deck, where he had been bustling up the topmen and seeing to the
messenger being properly attached to the cable.

"Heave round," also cried Sylvester, one of the midshipmen with him.

"Heave round," repeated the boatswain's mate further aft; while his
fellow mates stationed along the hatchways above passed on the cry, till
it reached the commander on the poop, who in his full-toned voice now
transformed what was merely a signal that all was ready into an order.

This gave the required impetus to the working party on the main deck,
who were waiting for this order, really to "Heave round!"

At once, the drummer and bugler, in attendance on the eager marines and
after-guard, struck up with fife and drum the festive strains of "Judy
Calaghan," which Corporal Macan said "did his sowl good to hear, faith!"

Then, the bars having been previously shipped by Mr Cleete, the
carpenter and his crew, round tramped the "jollies," round went the
capstan; and, with it, the messenger, the endless chain of which,
revolving slowly, hauled the cable foot by foot inboard, the "lengths"
dropping down the deck pipes out of the way as the slack was released
from the messenger, and the nippers passed forwards again; and so on,
over and over again!

I had ample opportunity for noticing this, the commander sending me on
another errand down to the scene of operations almost as soon as the
drumming and fifing began.  This was much to my delight; for I enjoyed
the strains of the jolly air played as much as Corporal Macan, as well
as the steady tramp of the marines and after-guard round the capstan,
the men stamping on the deck in time to the music, as if they would
smash through the planking.

"Go and tell Mr Jellaby," said he, "to shorten in to two shackles."

"Ay, ay, sir."

With which response to Commander Nesbitt's order, I sprang down the
after-hatchway on to the main deck, proceeding thence below to where old
"Joe" and his topmen were working.

Of course I gave the lieutenant the mandate with which I had been
charged; but I remaining, boylike, to watch what was going on, the
commander not having told me to return immediately, though I ought to
have done so.

The capstan, however, was spun round so merrily by the marines while the
nippers, in the hands of the active seamen, passed so freely; that, ere
I knew how far the task had progressed, so as to be able to report to
the commander the state of things, Mr Jellaby suddenly sang out
"Belay!"

Instantly, the word being passed by the boatswain's mates as before, so
that the order reached the lieutenant in charge of the working party at
the capstan above almost as soon as Mr Jellaby sang out from the lower
deck forward, the music stopped suddenly, as if the drummer and fifer
had both been shot on the spot.

With it, too, ceased the monotonous tramp, tramp, tramp of the men above
our heads, which sounded through the thickness of the deck like a band
of Ethiopian minstrels dancing a flap dance and marching "round the
mulberry bush" afterwards, to "show their muscle," as is the wont of
these negro "entertainers," so-called!

"You may go up now to the commander," said Mr Jellaby to me, as a
polite hint to be off, "and tell him that the second shackle's just
inside our hawse."

"Very good, sir," I replied, moving away as the blacksmith went to put
the slip on the cable to secure it from running out until we were ready
to weigh anchor later on.  "I'll tell him at once, sir."

"All right," said Commander Nesbitt, when I reached the poop and
repeated Mr Jellaby's message, the import of which he already knew from
the stoppage of all movement below, and the report of the boatswain from
the forecastle that the anchor was "a short stay apeak"; when, advancing
to the rail, he called out in a louder key, "Bosun's mate, pipe the
hands to breakfast!"



CHAPTER TWELVE.

BELOW IN THE GUNROOM.

"Well!" exclaimed little Tommy Mills, a little later, when he and I,
with young Morgan, the mate and Ned Anstruther, on being relieved by the
starboard watch, all went down to the gunroom and sat down to have our
breakfast, "I call this a beastly shame."

"Hullo," said Popplethorne, one of the other middies, looking up from
the plate on which he was busily engaged; while several other fellows,
similarly employed ceased operations likewise, staring at Tommy in
astonishment.  "What's up?"

"Nothing's up, but everything seems down," replied my little chum in an
aggrieved tone.  "I don't see a crumb left for a poor, hungry chap; no
bloaters, no marmalade, no nothing.  When I was in the _Illustrious_, if
they did grind a fellow a bit, one always had something decent to eat,
at all events!"

"First come, first served," mumbled Phil Plumper, the senior mate of our
watch, who had his mouth full and was tucking in some species of
"burgoo," or porridge with much gusto.  He was an awfully fat fellow and
looked just like a boiled lobster bursting out of its shell, for the
buttons of his jacket were continually carrying away at odd moments.
"If you don't look out for yourself on board ship you'll find nobody 'll
look after you; and, you'll come off _minus_!"

"That'll never be your case," retorted Tommy, with a snigger.  "Judging
by appearances, I should say your condition represents a _plus_
quantity!"

"Beg pardon, sir," apologised Dobbs, the gunroom steward, who from his
comical little screwed-up eyes and manner must have been first cousin to
my old friend the waiter at the "Keppel's Head," noticing the disdainful
expression with which Tommy Mills continued to glance round the empty
table, seeking in vain something appetising in the way of food for his
hungry eye to rest upon,--"Beg pardon, sir, but the bumboat woman didn't
come off this morning.  Sunday, you know, sir."

"That's all gammon, steward," said Master Tommy, still looking about
here and there and finding nothing but a desert of empty dishes and
dirty plates.  "You ought to have sent one of the ship's boats ashore if
you didn't have enough on board for everybody in the mess.  Our steward
in the _Illustrious_ always kept a good look out and sent himself for
them when the things were not brought off in time.  Why didn't you do
the same?"

"I'm sure I'm werry sorry, sir," answered Dobbs, humbly, awed by the way
in which little Tommy spoke to him; for my old comrade, I noticed, had
lost none of his cheek since our separation, and now put on the air of a
post captain at the least.  "Begging y'r pardon, sir, but getting ashore
from Spithead, with a northerly wind a-blowin', ain't quite so easy as
landing from Point and you're moored over against Blockhouse Fort!"

"That may be, but it's none of my business," said young Mills, loftily,
waiving Dobbs's plea aside as a mere trivial matter.  "I want some
breakfast.  What have you at all fit for a christian to eat?  I see
nothing here, nothing at all."

"Got some werry nice cold 'am, sir, in my pantry," cried Dobbs, with
effusion, at this opening, glad of having something he could offer.
"Shall I cut you a plate o' that, sir--just try a wee bit off the
knuckle end, sir?"

"All right, if there is nothing else, but I suppose it will be all bone
and gristle, or as hard as a cat-block," replied Tommy; heaving a most
portentous sigh of disappointment, though winking slily to me to show
that he was only `putting all this on' to astonish the other fellows,
who were gazing at him with open mouths in wonder at his assurance and
grand seigneur manner.  "You may get me a couple of eggs, also, while
you're about it, steward.  Mind they're fresh and have no chickens in
them; I don't like poultry in the morning so early!"

Of course there was a loud guffaw at this, the three purser's clerks,
who were eating bread and butter at the lower end of the table, not
daring to put in a word of objection to the fare, seeming to enjoy the
joke mightily.

Not so, however, Dobbs.

"Werry sorry, sir, but there's no heggs," he replied to this somewhat
imperative order from Master Tommy, looking absolutely crestfallen at
having thus to confess the shortcomings of his commissariat.  "The
caterer of the mess, sir, forgot to horder 'em, sir."

"No eggs!" cried Tommy, in the tone of tragic denunciation which Cicero
might have used when exposing the iniquities of Cataline.  "This is
really impardonable!"

"Never mind, sir," hastily whispered Dobbs, holding out a gleam of hope,
as he thought, "we'll get some at Plymouth as soon as we anchor in the
Sound, sir.  You shall get some there, sir, never you fear, sir."

"Plymouth?  Why, I may lose the number of my mess myself long before I
ever reach there!" said Tommy, contemptuously.  "A caterer who forgets
to provide eggs for the mess ought to be keel-hauled!  Who _is_ the
caterer, steward?"

"Mr Stormcock, sir."

"Oh, indeed!  Stormcock, eh?" repeated little Mills, making me choke
with suppressed laughter.  "Then you can tell Mister Stormcock, with my
compliments, that unless he looks after the mess catering better, he'll
precious soon find himself in foul weather with me!"

"Highty, tighty, my young bantam!" cried out the gentleman in question,
the master's mate, a thick-set, full-grown fellow, old enough to be
Tommy's father, who happened to be stretched at full length on one of
the lockers at the further end of the gunroom, and was roused from his
nap on hearing his name mentioned.  "You seem to have a pretty
considerable stock of impudence of your own for so young a shaver, and
crow so loudly you must want to have your comb cut, I think!"

"Not to-day, thank you, sir, all the same," answered Master Tommy,
demurely, but with a grimace that made us all laugh.  "If I'm a shaver,
of course I can cut it myself, can't I?"

"Hang me, but you _are_ a cheeky young beggar, the cheekiest we have on
board, I think, and that's saying a good deal!" ejaculated the other,
utterly dumbfounded at his effrontery.  "What are you rowing the poor
steward about, eh?"

"Nothing--only I thought we might have had a better spread for breakfast
than I see on the table as we're not yet at sea, that's all!"

"Oh, that's all, is it, young gentleman?" cried the master's mate, not
liking to hear his catering criticised so frankly.  "I'm sorry you
didn't let us know we had a lord coming aboard; for, if we had heard in
time, we'd have hired a French cook and laid in every delicacy you could
desire.  By jingo! when I was a youngster and joined my ship for the
first time, I remember, I was glad enough to get a mouthful of salt junk
and hard tack, without any of your bloaters and marmalade and foreign
kickshaws--ay, and thought myself doocid lucky, I can tell you, if I
didn't get a thrashing from one of the oldsters in the mess, if I
grumbled, to make me relish my grub the better.  Things are coming to a
pretty pass nowadays for a young jackanapes to growl about his vittles
and call his seniors to account!"

"Pardon me, sir, but my name is Tom Mills, not `Jack Napes,'" said my
cheeky chum, with meek subservience; and, turning then to Dobbs, he
called out, "a cup of tea, please, steward, with plenty of milk in it."

"Werry sorry, sir, but there ain't no milk," replied Dobbs, still more
apologetically, at this further demand which he was unable to supply, as
if he grieved from his inmost heart thereat.  "Mr Jones 'as 'ad the
werry last drop, sir."

"We'll send ashore for a cow for you, Master Impudence," put in Mr
Stormcock, ironically, before Tom could say anything.  "Just wait a bit
for your breakfast till we can get it off.  Dobbs, you know the sort of
cow the young gentleman wants--one with an iron tail!"

"Did I ever tell you that yarn about a cow we had on board the _Duke_,
eh?" observed a tall gentleman with long whiskers, regular "weepers" of
the Dundreary type, who was seated on another locker at the after end of
the gunroom, right opposite to the irascible master's mate.  "I mean the
cow old Charley Napier took with him in his flagship when we went up the
Baltic?"

"Good Lord!  Jones, don't get your jaw tacks aboard now," cried Mr
Stormcock, as I pricked up my ears on hearing the name of Sir Charles
Napier, Dad's old captain.  "We've heard that yarn of yours three times
at least since we started fitting out; and, I'm hanged if it'll stand
telling again!"

"Oh, very well, then," said the whiskered gentleman in a displeased
tone.  He wore a plain undress sort of uniform, I noticed, and Dobbs,
the steward, told me he was the paymaster's assistant and kept the
ship's books; though, he messed 

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