Фредерик Марриет
Jacob Faithful
“It’s hard to lose our bread this way,” replied I.
“We will find you bread, and hard enough you will find it,” replied the lieutenant, laughing; “it’s like a flint.”
“So we ask for bread, and you give us a stone,” said Tom; “that’s ’gainst Scripture.”
“Very true, my lad; but the fact is, all the scriptures in the world won’t man the frigate. Men we must have, and get them how we can, and where we can, and when we can. Necessity has no law; at least it obliges us to break through all laws. After all, there’s no great hardship in serving the king for a year or two, and filling your pockets with prize-money. Suppose you volunteer?”
“Will you allow us to go on shore for half-an-hour to think about it?” replied I.
“No. I’m afraid of the crimps dissuading you. But I’ll give you till to-morrow morning, and then I shall be sure of one at all events.”
“Thanky for me,” replied Tom.
“You’re very welcome,” replied the first lieutenant, as, laughing at us, he went down the companion-ladder to his dinner.
“Well, Jacob, we are in for it,” said Tom, as soon as we were alone. “Depend upon it there’s no mistake this time.”
“I am afraid not,” replied I, “unless we can get a letter to your father, or Mr Drummond, who, I am sure, would help us. But that dirty fellow, who gave the lieutenant the hint, said the frigate sailed to-morrow morning; there he is, let us speak to him.”
“When does the frigate sail!” said Tom to the master’s mate, who was walking the deck.
“My good fellow, it’s not the custom on board of a man-of-war for men to ask officers to answer such impertinent questions. It’s quite sufficient for you to know that when the frigate sails you will have the pleasure of sailing in her.”
“Well, sir,” replied I, nettled at his answer, “at all events you will have the goodness to pay us our fare. We have lost our wherry, and our liberty, perhaps, through you; we may as well have our two guineas.”
“Two guineas! It’s two guineas you want, heh.”
“Yes, sir, that was the fare we agreed upon.”
“Why you must observe, my men,” said the master’s mate, hooking a thumb into each armhole of his waistcoat, “there must be a little explanation as to that affair. I promised you two guineas as watermen; but now that you belong to a man-of-war, you are no longer watermen. I always pay my debts honourably when I can find the lawful creditors; but where are the watermen?”
“Here we are sir.”
“No, my lads, you are men-of-war’s men now, and that quite alters the case.”
“But we are not so yet, sir; even if it did alter the case, we are not pressed yet.”
“Well, then, you’ll be to-morrow, perhaps; at all events we shall see. If you are allowed to go on shore again, I owe you two guineas as watermen; and if you are detained as men-of-war’s men, why then you will only have done your duty in pulling down one of your officers. You see, my lads, I say nothing but what’s fair.”
“Well, sir, but when you hired us we were watermen,” replied Tom.
“Very true, so you were; but recollect the two guineas were not due until you had completed your task, which was not until you came on board. When you came on board you were pressed, and became men-of-war’s men. You should have asked for your fare before the first lieutenant got hold of you. Don’t you perceive the justice of my remarks?”
“Can’t say I do, sir; but I perceive there’s very little chance of our being paid,” said Tom.
“You are a lad of discrimination,” replied the master’s mate. “And now I advise you to drop the subject, or you may induce me to pay you ‘man-of-war fashion.’”
“How’s that, sir?”
“Over the face and eyes, as the cat paid the monkey,” replied the master’s mate, walking leisurely away.
“No go, Tom,” said I, smiling at the absurdity of the arguments.
“I’m afraid it’s no go in every way, Jacob. However, I don’t care much about it. I have had a little hankering after seeing the world, and perhaps now’s as well as an other time; but I’m sorry for you, Jacob.”
“It’s all my own fault,” replied I; and I fell into one of those reveries so often indulged in of late, as to the folly of my conduct in asserting my independence, which had now ended in my losing my liberty. But we were cold from the ducking we had received, and moreover, very hungry. The first lieutenant did not forget his promise: he sent us a good dinner, and a glass of grog each, which we discussed under the half-deck, between two of the guns. We had some money in our pockets, and we purchased some sheets of paper from the bum-boat people, who were on the main-deck supplying the seamen, and I wrote to Mr Drummond and Mr Turnbull, as well as to Mary and old Tom, requesting the two latter to forward our clothes to Deal, in case of our being detained. Tom also wrote to comfort his mother, and the greatest comfort which he could give was, as he said, to promise to keep sober. Having entrusted these letters to the bumboat woman, who promised faithfully to put them into the post-office, we had then nothing else to do but to look out for some place to sleep. Our clothes had dried on us, and we were walking under the half-deck: but not a soul spoke to, or even took the least notice of us. In a newly-manned ship just ready to sail there is a universal feeling of selfishness prevailing among the ship’s company. Some, if not most, had, like us, been pressed, and their thoughts were occupied with their situation and the change in their prospects. Others were busy making their little arrangements with their wives or relations; while the mass of the seamen, not yet organised by discipline or known to each other, were in a state of disunion and individuality, which naturally induced every man to look after himself without caring for his neighbour. We therefore could not expect, nor did we receive, any sympathy; we were in a scene of bustle and noise, yet alone. A spare topsail, which had been stowed for the present between two of the guns, was the best accommodation which offered itself. We took possession of it, and, tired with exertion of mind and body, were soon fast asleep.
Chapter Thirty Eight
There are many ups and downs in this world—We find ourselves in the Downs—Our captain comes on board, and gives us a short sermon upon antipathies, which most of us never heard the like of—He sets us all upon the go with his stop watch, and never calls the watch until the watch is satisfied with all hands
At daylight the next morning we were awakened with a start by the shrill whistles of the boatswain and his mates piping all hands to unmoor. The pilot was on board, and the wind was fair. As the frigate had no anchor down, but was hanging to the moorings in the river, we had nothing to do but to cast off, sheet home, and in less than half-an-hour we were under all sail, stemming the last quarter of the flood tide. Tom and I had remained on the gangway watching the proceedings but not assisting, when the ship being fairly under sail, the order was given by the first lieutenant to coil down the ropes.
“I think, Jacob, we may as well help,” said Tom laying hold of the main tack, which was passed aft, and hauling it forward.
“With all my heart,” replied I, and I hauled it forward, while he coiled it away.
While we were thus employed the first lieutenant walked forward and recognised us. “That’s what I like, my lads,” said he; “you don’t sulk, I see, and I sha’n’t forget it.”
“I hope you won’t forget that we are apprentices, sir, and allow us to go on shore,” replied I.
“I’ve a shocking bad memory in some things,” was his reply, as he continued forward to the forecastle. He did not, however, forget to victual us that day, and insert our names, in pencil, upon the ship’s books; but we were not put into any mess, or stationed.
We anchored in the Downs on the following morning. It came on to blow hard in the afternoon, and there was no communication with the shore, except the signal was made, third day, when it moderated, and the signal was made “Prepare to weigh, and send boat for captain.” In the meantime several boats came off, and one had a postman on board. I had letters from Mr Drummond and Mr Turnbull, telling me that they would immediately apply to the Admiralty for our being liberated, and one from Mary, half of which was for me, and the rest to Tom. Stapleton had taken Tom’s wherry and pulled down to old Tom Beazeley with my clothes, which, with young Tom’s, had been despatched to Deal. Tom had a letter from his mother, half indited by his father, and the rest from herself; but I shall not trouble the reader with the contents, as he may imagine what was likely to be said upon such an occasion.
Shortly afterwards our clothes, which had been sent to the care of an old shipmate of Tom’s father, were brought on board, and we hardly had received them when the signalman reported that the captain was coming off. There were so many of the men in the frigate who had never seen the captain that no little anxiety was shown by the ship’s company to ascertain how far, by the “cut of his jib,” that is, his outward appearance, they might draw conclusions as to what they might expect from one who had such unlimited power to make them happy or miserable. I was looking out of the maindeck port with Tom, when the gig pulled alongside, and was about to scrutinise the outward and visible signs of the captain, when I was attracted by the face of a lieutenant sitting by his side, whom I immediately recognised. It was Mr Wilson, the officer who had spun the oar and sunk the wherry, from which, as the reader may remember, I rescued my friends, the senior and junior clerk. I was overjoyed at this, as I hoped that he would interest himself in our favour. The pipe of the boatswain re-echoed as the captain ascended the side. He appeared on the quarter-deck—every hat descending to do him honour; the marines presented arms, and the marine officer at their head lowered the point of his sword. In return, the omnipotent personage, taking his cocked hat with two fingers and a thumb, by the highest peak, lifted it one inch off his head, and replaced it, desiring the marine officer to dismiss the guard. I had now an opportunity, as he paced to and fro with the first lieutenant, to examine his appearance. He was a tall, very large-boned, gaunt man, with an enormous breadth of shoulders, displaying Herculean strength (and this we found he eminently possessed). His face was of a size corresponding to his large frame; his features were harsh, his eye piercing, but his nose, although bold, was handsome, and his capacious mouth was furnished with the most splendid row of large teeth that I ever beheld. The character of his countenance was determination rather than severity. When he smiled the expression was agreeable. His gestures and his language were emphatic, and the planks trembled with his elephantine walk.
He had been on board about ten minutes, when he desired the first lieutenant to turn the hands up, and all the men were ordered on the larboard side of the quarter-deck. As soon as they were all gathered together, looking with as much awe on the captain as a flock of sheep at a strange, mischief-meaning dog, he thus addressed them—“My lads, as it so happens that we are all to trust to the same planks, it may be just as well that we should understand one another. I like to see my officers attentive to their duty, and behave themselves as gentlemen. I like to see my men well disciplined, active, and sober. What I like I will have—you understand me. Now,” continued he, putting on a stern look—“now, just look in my face, and see if you think you can play with me.” The men looked in his face, and saw that there was no chance of playing with him; and so they expressed by their countenances. The captain appeared satisfied by their mute acknowledgments, and to encourage them, smiled, and showed his white teeth, as he desired the first lieutenant to pipe down.
As soon as the scene was over, I walked up to Mr Wilson, the lieutenant, who was standing aft, and accosted him. “Perhaps, sir, you do not recollect me; but we met one night when you were sinking in a wherry, and you asked my name.”
“And I recollect it, my lad; it was Faithful, was it not?”
“Yes, sir;” and I then entered into an explanation of our circumstances, and requested his advice and assistance.
He shook his head. “Our captain,” said he, “is a very strange person. He has commanding interest, and will do more in defiance of the rules of the Admiralty than any one in the service. If an Admiralty order came down to discharge you, he would obey it; but as for regulations, he cares very little for them. Besides, we sail in an hour. However, I will speak to him, although I shall probably get a rap on the knuckles, as it is the business of the first lieutenant, and not mine.”
“But, sir, if you requested the first lieutenant to speak?”
“If I did, he would not, in all probability; men are too valuable, and the first lieutenant knows that the captain would not like to discharge you. He will, therefore, say nothing until it is too late, and then throw all the blame upon himself for forgetting it. Our captain has such interest that his recommendation would give a commander’s rank to-morrow, and we must all take care of ourselves. However, I will try, although I can give you very little hopes.”
Mr Wilson went up to the captain, who was still walking with the first lieutenant, and, touching his hat, introduced the subject, stating, as an apology, that he was acquainted with me.
“Oh, if the man is an acquaintance of yours, Mr Wilson, we certainly must decide,” replied the captain with mock politeness. “Where is he?” I advanced, and Tom followed me. We stated our case. “I always like to put people out of suspense,” said the captain, “because it unsettles a man—so now hear me; if I happened to press one of the blood-royal, and the king, and the queen, and all the little princesses were to go down on their knees, I’d keep him, without an Admiralty order for his discharge. Now, my lads, do you perceive your chance?” Then turning away to Mr Wilson, he said, “You will oblige me by stating upon what grounds you ventured to interfere in behalf of these men, and I trust your explanation will be satisfactory. Mr Knight,” continued he, to the first lieutenant, “send these men down below, watch, and station them.”
We went below by the gangway ladder and watched the conference between the captain and Mr Wilson, who, we were afraid, had done himself no good by trying to assist us. But when it was over the captain appeared pleased, and Mr Wilson walked away with a satisfied air. As I afterwards discovered it did me no little good. The hands were piped to dinner, and after dinner we weighed and made sail, and thus were Tom and I fairly, or rather unfairly, embarked in his majesty’s service.
“Well, Tom,” said I, “it’s no use crying. What’s done can’t be helped; here we are; now let us do all we can to make friends.”
“That’s just my opinion, Jacob. Hang care; it killed the cat; I shall make the best of it, and I don’t see why we may not be as happy here as anywhere else. Father says we may, if we do our duty, and I don’t mean to shirk mine. The more the merrier, they say, and I’ll be hanged but there’s not enough of us here.”
I hardly need say that, for the first three or four days, we were not very comfortable; we had been put into the seventh mess, and were stationed in the foretop; for although we had not been regularly bred up as seaman, the first lieutenant so decided, saying, that he was sure that, in a few weeks, there would be no smarter men in the ship.
We were soon clear of the Channel, and all hands were anxious to know our destination, which, in this almost solitary instance, had been really kept a secret, although surmises were correct. There is one point which, by the present arrangements, invariably makes known whether a ship is “fitting foreign,” or for home service, which is, by the stores and provisions ordered on board; and these stores are so arranged, according to the station to which the vessel is bound, that it is generally pretty well known what her destination is to be. This is bad, and at the same time easily remedied; for if every ship, whether for home service or foreign, was ordered to fit foreign, no one would be able to ascertain where she was about to proceed. With a very little trouble strict secrecy might be preserved, now that the Navy Board is abolished; but during its existence that was impossible. The Immortalité was a very fast sailing vessel, and when the captain (whose name I have forgotten to mention, it was Hector Maclean) opened his sealed orders, we found that we were to cruise for two months between the Western Isles and Madeira, in quest of some privateers, which had captured many of our outward-bound West Indiamen, notwithstanding they were well protected by convoy, and, after that period, to join the admiral at Halifax, and relieve a frigate which had been many years on that station. In a week we were on our station, the weather was fine, and the whole of the day was passed in training the men to the guns, small arms, making and shortening sail, reefing topsails, and manoeuvring the ship. The captain would never give up his point, and sometimes we were obliged to make or shorten sail twenty times running until he was satisfied.
“My lads,” he would say to the ship’s company, sending for them aft, “you have done this pretty well; you have only been two minutes; not bad for a new ship’s company, but I like it done in a minute and a-half. We’ll try again.” And sure enough it was try again, until in a minute and a-half it was accomplished. Then the captain would say, “I knew you could do it, and having once done it, my lads, of course you can do it again.”
Tom and I adhered to our good resolutions. We were as active and as forward as we could be; and Mr Knight, the first lieutenant, pointed us out to the captain. As soon as the merits of the different men were ascertained, several alterations were made in the watch and station bills, as well as in the ratings on the ship’s books, and Tom and I were made second captains, larboard and starboard, of the foretop. This was great promotion for so young hands, especially as we were not bred as regular sailors; but it was for the activity and zeal which we displayed. Tom was a great favourite among the men, always joking, and ready for any lark or nonsense; moreover, he used to mimic the captain, which few others dared do. He certainly seldom ventured to do it below; it was generally in the foretop, where he used to explain to the men what he liked. One day we both ventured it, but it was on an occasion which excused it. Tom and I were aft, sitting in the jolly boat astern, fitting some of her gear, for we belonged to the boat at that time, although we were afterwards shifted into the cutter. The frigate was going about four knots through the water, and the sea was pretty smooth. One of the marines fell overboard, out of the forechains. “Man overboard,” was cried out immediately, and the men (became) very busy clearing away the starboard cutter, with all the expedition requisite on such an occasion. The captain was standing aft on the signal chest when the marine passed astern; the poor fellow could not swim, and Tom turning to me said, “Jacob, I should like to save that Jolly,” and immediately dashed overboard.
“And I should like to help you, Tom,” cried I, following him.
The captain was close to us, and heard us both. Between us we easily held up the marine, and the boat had us all on board in less than a minute. When we came on deck the captain was at the gangway. He showed his white teeth, and shook the telescope in his hand at us. “I heard you both; and I should like to have a good many more impudent fellows like you.”
We continued our cruise, looking sharp out for the privateers, but without success; we then touched at Madeira for intelligence, and were informed that they had been seen more to the southward. The frigate’s head was turned in that direction until we were abreast of the Canary Isles, and then we traversed east and west, north or south, just as the wind and weather, or the captain’s like thought proper. We had now cruised seven weeks out of our time without success, and the captain promised five guineas to the man who should discover the objects of our search. Often did Tom and I climb to the mast-head and scan the horizon, and so did many others: but those who were stationed at the look-out were equally on the alert. The ship’s company were now in a very fair state of discipline, owing to the incessant practice, and every evening the hands were turned up to skylark—that is, to play and amuse themselves. There was one amusement which was the occasion of a great deal of mirth, and it was a favourite one of the captain’s, as it made the men smart. It is called, “Follow my leader.” One of the men leads, and all who choose follow him: sometimes forty or fifty will join. Whatever the leader does, the rest must do also; wherever he goes they must follow. Tom, who was always the foremost for fun, was one day the leader, and after having scampered up the rigging, laid out on the yards, climbed in by the lifts, crossed from mast to mast by the stays, slid down by the backstays, blacked his face in the funnel, in all which motions he was followed by about thirty others, hallooing and laughing, while the officers and other men were looking on and admiring their agility, a novel idea came into Tom’s head; it was then about seven o’clock in the evening, the ship was lying becalmed, Tom again sprang up the rigging, laid out to the main yard-arm, followed by me and the rest, and as soon as he was at the boom iron, he sprang up, holding by the lift, and crying out, “Follow my leader,” leaped from the yard-arm into the sea. I was second, and crying out, “Follow my leader” to the rest, I followed him, and the others, whether they could swim or not, did the same, it being a point of honour not to refuse.
The captain was just coming up the ladder, when he saw, as he imagined, a man tumble overboard, which was Tom in his descent; but how much more was he astonished at seeing twenty or thirty more tumbling off by twos or threes, until it appeared that half the ship’s company were overboard. Some of the men who could not swim, but were too proud to refuse to follow, were nearly drowned. As it was, the first lieutenant was obliged to lower the cutter to pick them up, and they were all brought on board.
“Confound that fellow,” said the captain to the first lieutenant; “he is always at the head of all mischief. Follow my leader, indeed! Send Tom Beazeley here.” We all thought that Tom was about to catch it. “Hark ye, my lad,” said the captain; “a joke’s a joke, but everybody can’t swim as well as you. I can’t afford to lose any of my men by your pranks, so don’t try that again—I don’t like it.”
Every one thought that Tom got off very cheaply; but he was a favourite with the captain, although that never appeared but indirectly; “Beg pardon, sir,” replied Tom, with great apparent humility, “but they were all so dirty—they’d blacked themselves at the funnel, and I thought a little washing would not do them any harm.”
“Be off, sir, and recollect what I have said,” replied the captain, turning away, and showing his white teeth.
I heard the first lieutenant say to the captain, “He’s worth any ten men in the ship, sir. He keeps them all alive and merry, sets such a good example.”
