Фредерик Марриет
Percival Keene
Chapter Sixteen
The next morning, at daylight, the blue Peter was hoisted at the foremast, and the gun fired as a signal for sailing; all was bustle—hoisting in, clearing boats of stock, and clearing the ship of women and strangers.
At ten o’clock Captain Delmar made his appearance, the hands were piped up anchor, and in half an hour we were standing out for St. Helen’s. Before night it blew very fresh, and we went rolling down the Channel before an easterly wind. I went to my hammock very sick, and did not recover for several days, during which nobody asked for me, or any questions about me, except Bob Cross and Tommy Dott.
As soon as I was well enough, I made my appearance on deck, and was ordered by the first lieutenant to do my duty under the signal midshipman: this was day duty, and not very irksome; I learnt the flags, and how to use a spy-glass.
We were charged with despatches for the fleet, then off Cadiz, and on the tenth day we fell in with it, remained a week in company, and then were ordered to Gibraltar and Malta. From Malta we went home again with despatches, having been out three months.
During this short and pleasant run, I certainly did not learn much of my profession, but I did learn a little of the ways of the world. First, as to Captain Delmar, his conduct to me was anything but satisfactory; he never inquired for me during the time that I was unwell, and took no notice of me on my reappearance.
The officers and young gentlemen, as midshipmen are called, were asked to dine in the cabin in rotation, and I did in consequence dine two or three times in the cabin; but it appeared to me, as if the captain purposely took no notice of me, although he generally did say a word or two to the others; moreover as the signal mids were up in the morning watch, he would occasionally send to invite one of the others to breakfast with him, but he never paid me that compliment.
This annoyed me, and I spoke of it to Bob Cross, with whom I had had some long conversations. I had told him all I knew relative to myself, what my suspicions were, and I had shown him my mother’s reply. His opinion on the subject may be given in what follows:—
“You see, Master Keene, you are in an awkward position; the captain is a very proud man, and too proud to acknowledge that you are any way related to him. It’s my opinion, from what you have told me, and from other reasons, particularly from your likeness to the captain, that your suspicions are correct; but, what then? Your mother is sworn to secrecy—that’s clear; and the captain won’t own you—that’s also very clear. I had some talk with the captain’s steward on the subject when I was taking a glass of grog with him the other night in this berth. It was he that brought up the subject, not me, and he said, that the captain not asking you to breakfast, and avoiding you, as it were, was another proof that you belonged to him; and the wishing to hide the secret only makes him behave as he does. You have a difficult game to play, Master Keene; but you are a clever lad, and you ask advice—mind you follow it, or it’s little use asking it. You must always be very respectful to Captain Delmar, and keep yourself at as great a distance from him as he does from you.”
“That I’m sure I will,” replied I, “for I dislike him very much.”
“No, you must not do that, but you must bend to circumstances; by-and-by things will go on better; but mind you keep on good terms with the officers, and never be saucy, or they may say to you what may not be pleasant; recollect this, and things will go on better, as I said before. If Captain Delmar protects you with his interest, you will be a captain over the heads of many who are now your superiors on board of this frigate. One thing be careful of, which is, to keep your own counsel, and don’t be persuaded in a moment of confidence to trust anything to Tommy Dott, or any other midshipman; and if any one hints at what you suppose, deny it immediately; nay, if necessary, fight for it—that will be the way to please the captain, for you will be of his side then, and not against him.”
That this advice of Bob Cross was the best that could be given to one in my position there could not be a doubt; and that I did resolve to follow it, is most certain. I generally passed away a portion of my leisure hours in Bob’s company, and became warmly attached to him; and certainly my time was not thrown away, for I learnt a great deal from him.
One evening, as I was leaning against one of the guns on the main deck, waiting for Cross to come out of the cabin, I was amused with the following conversation between a boatswain’s mate and a fore-top man. I shall give it verbatim. They were talking of one that was dead; and after the boatswain’s mate had said—
“Well, he’s in heaven, poor fellow.”
After a pause, the fore-top man said—
“I wonder, Bill, whether I shall ever go to heaven?”
“Why not?” replied the boatswain’s mate.
“Why, the parson says it’s good works; now, I certainly have been a pretty many times in action, and I have killed plenty of Frenchmen in my time.”
“Well, that’s sufficient, I should think; I hold my hopes upon just the same claims. I’ve cut down fifty Frenchmen in my life, and if that ain’t good works, I don’t know what is.”
“I suppose Nelson’s in heaven?”
“Of course; if so be he wishes to be there, I should like to know who would keep him out, if he was determined on it; no, no; depend upon it he walked slap in.”
On our return to Portsmouth, the captain went up to the Admiralty with the despatches, the frigate remaining at Spithead, ready to sail at a moment’s notice.
I was now quite accustomed to the ship and officers; the conviction I had of my peculiar position, together with the advice of Bob Cross, had very much subdued my spirit; perhaps the respect created by discipline, and the example of others, which produced in me a degree of awe of the captain and the lieutenants, assisted a little—certain it is, that I gained the goodwill of my messmates, and had not been in any scrape during the whole cruise.
The first lieutenant was a stern, but not unkind man; he would blow you up, as we termed it, when he scolded for half an hour without ceasing. I never knew a man with such a flow of words; but if permitted to go on without interruption, he was content, without proceeding to further punishment. Any want of respect, however, was peculiarly offensive to him, and any attempt to excuse yourself was immediately cut short with, “No reply, sir.”
The second day after our return to Spithead, I was sent on shore in the cutter to bring off a youngster who was to join the ship; he had never been to sea before; his name was Green, and he was as green as a gooseberry. I took a dislike to him the moment that I saw him, because he had a hooked nose and very small ferrety eyes. As we were pulling on board he asked me a great many questions of all kinds, particularly about the captain and officers, and to amuse myself and the boat’s crew, who were on the full titter, I exercised my peculiar genius for invention.
At last, after I had given a character of the first lieutenant, which made him appear a sort of marine ogre, he asked how it was I got on with him:—
“O, very well,” replied I; “but I’m a freemason, and so is he, and he’s never severe with a brother mason.”
“But how did he know you were a mason?”
“I made the sign to him the very first time that he began to scold me, and he left off almost immediately; that is, when I made the second sign; he did not when I made the first.”
“I should like to know these signs. Won’t you tell them to me?”
“Tell them to you! oh no, that won’t do,” replied I. “I don’t know you. Here we are on board—in bow,—rowed of all, men. Now, Mr Green, I’ll show you the way up.”
Mr Green was presented, and ushered into the service much in the same way as I was; but he had not forgotten what I said to him relative to the first lieutenant; and it so happened that, on the third day he witnessed a jobation, delivered by the first lieutenant to one of the midshipmen, who, venturing to reply, was ordered to the mast-head for the remainder of the day; added to which, a few minutes afterwards, the first lieutenant ordered two men to be put both legs in irons. Mr Green trembled as he saw the men led away by the master-at-arms, and he came to me:
“I do wish, Keene, you would tell me those signs,” said he; “can’t you be persuaded to part with them? I’ll give you any thing that I have which you may like.”
“Well,” said I, “I should like to have that long spy-glass of yours, for it’s a very good one; and, as signal-midshipman, will be useful to me.”
“I will give it you with all my heart,” replied he, “if you will tell me the signs.”
“Well, then, come down below, give me the glass, and I will tell them to you.”
Mr Green and I went down to the berth, and I received the spy-glass as a present in due form. I then led him to my chest in the steerage, and in a low, confidential tone, told him as follows:—
“You see, Green, you must be very particular about making those signs, for if you make a mistake, you will be worse off than if you never made them at all, for the first lieutenant will suppose that you are trying to persuade him that you are a mason, when you are not. Now, observe, you must not attempt to make the first sign until he has scolded you well; then, at any pause, you must make it; thus, you see, you must put your thumb to the tip of your nose, and extend your hand straight out from it, with all the fingers separated, as wide as you can. Now, do it as I did it. Stop—wait a little, till that marine passes. Yes, that is it. Well, that is considered the first proof of your being a mason, but it requires a second. The first lieutenant will, I tell you frankly, be or rather pretend to be, in a terrible rage, and will continue to rail at you; you must, therefore, wait a little till he pauses; and then, you observe, put up your thumb to your nose, with the fingers of your hands spread out as before, and then add to it your other hand, by joining your other thumb to the little finger of the hand already up, and stretch your other hand and fingers out like the first. Then you will see the effects of the second sign. Do you think you can recollect all this? for, as I said before, you must make no mistake.”
Green put his hands up as I told him, and after three or four essays declared himself perfect, and I left him.
It was about three days afterwards that Mr Green upset a kid of dirty water upon the lower deck which had been dry holystoned, and the mate of the lower deck, when the first lieutenant went his round, reported the circumstance to exculpate himself. Mr Green was consequently summoned on the quarter-deck; and the first lieutenant, who was very angry, commenced, as usual, a volley of abuse on the unfortunate youngster.
Green, recollecting my instructions, waited till the first lieutenant had paused, and then made the first freemason sign, looking up very boldly at the first lieutenant, who actually drew back with astonishment at this contemptuous conduct, hitherto unwitnessed on board of a man-at-war.
“What! sir,” cried the first lieutenant. “Why, sir, are you mad?—you, just come into the service, treating me in this manner! I can tell you, sir, that you will not be three days longer in the service—no, sir, not three days; for either you leave the service or I do. Of all the impudence, of all the insolence, of all the contempt I have heard of, this beats all—and from such a little animal as you. Consider yourself as under an arrest, sir, till the captain comes on board, and your conduct is reported; go down below, sir, immediately.”
The lieutenant paused, and now Green gave him sign the second, as a reply, thinking that they would then come to a right understanding—but to his astonishment, the first lieutenant was more curious than ever; and calling the sergeant of marines, ordered him to take Mr Green down, and put him in irons, under the half-deck.
Poor Green was handed down, all astonishment, at the want of success of his mason’s signs. I, who stood abaft, was delighted at the success of my joke, while the first lieutenant walked hastily up and down the deck, as much astonished as enraged at such insulting and insolent conduct from a lad who had not been a week in the service.
After a time the first lieutenant went down below, when Bob Cross, who was on deck, and who had perceived my delight at the scene, which was to him and all others so inexplicable, came up to me and said:—
“Master Keene, I’m sure, by your looks, you knew something about this. That foolish lad never had dared do so, if he knew what it was he had done. Now, don’t look so demure, but tell me how it is.”
I walked aft with Bob Cross, and confided my secret to him; he laughed heartily, and said:—
“Well, Tommy Dott did say that you were up to any thing, and so I think you are; but you see this is a very serious affair for poor Green, and, like the fable of the frogs, what is sport to you is death to others. The poor lad will be turned out of the service, and lose his chance of being a post captain; so you must allow me to explain the matter so that it gets to the ears of the first lieutenant as soon as possible.”
“Well,” replied I, “do as you like, Bob; if any one’s to be turned out of the service for such nonsense, it ought to be me, and not Green, poor snob.”
“No fear of your being turned out; the first lieutenant won’t like you the worse, and the other officers will like you better especially as I shall say that it is by your wish that I explain all to get Mr Green out of the scrape. I’ll go to the surgeon and tell him—but, Master Keene, don’t you call such matters nonsense, or you’ll find yourself mistaken one of these days. I never saw such disrespect on a quarter-deck in all my life—worse than mutiny a thousand times.” Here Bob Cross burst out into a fit of laughter, as he recalled Green’s extended fingers to his memory, and then he turned away and went down below to speak to the surgeon.
As soon as Cross had quitted the deck, I could not restrain my curiosity as to the situation of my friend Green; I therefore went down the ladder to the half-deck, and there, on the starboard side between the guns, I perceived the poor fellow, with his legs in irons, his hands firmly clasped together, looking so woeful and woe-begone, every now and then raising his eyes up to the beam of the upper deck, as if he would appeal to heaven, that I scarcely could refrain from laughing. I went up to him and said:—
“Why, Green, how is all this?—what has happened?”
“Happened?” said the poor fellow; “happened? see what has happened; here I am.”
“Did you make the freemason’s signs?” replied I.
“Didn’t I? Yes—I did: Oh, what will become of me?”
“You could not have made them right; you must have forgotten them.”
“I’m sure I made them as you told me; I’m quite sure of that.”
“Then perhaps I did not recollect them exactly myself: however, be of good heart; I will have the whole matter explained to the first lieutenant.”
“Pray do; only get me out of this. I don’t want the glass back.”
“I’ll have it done directly,” replied I.
As I went away, Bob Cross came up, and said I was wanted by the first lieutenant in the gun-room. “Don’t be afraid,” said he: “they’ve been laughing at it already, and the first lieutenant is it a capital humour; still he’ll serve you out well; you must expect that.”
“Shall I make him the sign, Cross?” replied I, laughing.
“No, no; you’ve gone far enough, and too far already; mind what I say to you.”
I went down into the gun-room, when a tittering ceased as the sentry opened the door, and I walked in.
“Did you want me, sir?” said I to the first lieutenant, touching my hat, and looking very demure.
“So, Mr Keene, I understand it was you who have been practising upon Mr Green, and teaching him insult and disrespect to his superior officers on the quarter-deck. Well, sir?”
I made no reply, but appeared very penitent.
“Because a boy has just come to sea, and is ignorant of his profession, it appears to be a custom—which I shall take care shall not be followed up—to play him all manner of tricks, and tell him all manner of falsehoods. Now, sir, what have you to say for yourself?”
“Mr Green and I have both just come to sea, sir, and the midshipmen all play us so many tricks,” replied I, humbly, “that I hardly know whether what I do is right or wrong.”
“But, sir, it was you who played this trick to Mr Green.”
“Yes, sir, I told him so for fun, but I didn’t think he was such a fool as to believe me. I only said that you were a freemason, and that freemasons were kind to each other, and that you gave one another signs to know one another by; I heard you say you were a freemason, sir, when I dined in the gun-room.”
“Well, sir, I did say so; but that is no reason for your teaching him to be impudent.”
“He asked me for the signs, sir, and I didn’t know them exactly; so I gave him the signs that Mr Dott and I always make between us.”
“Mr Dott and you—a pretty pair, as I said before. I’ve a great mind to put you in Mr Green’s place—at all events, I shall report your conduct when the captain comes from London. There, sir, you may go.”
I put on a penitent face as I went out wiping my eyes with the back of my hands. After I went out, I waited a few seconds at the gun-room door, and then the officers, supposing that I was out of hearing, gave vent to their mirth, the first lieutenant laughing the loudest.
“Cross is right,” thought I, as I went up the ladder; a minute afterwards, Mr Green was set free, and, after a severe reprimand, was allowed to return to his duty.
“You are well out of that trick, my hearty,” said Bob Cross; “the first lieutenant won’t say a word to the captain, never fear; but don’t try it again.”
But an event occurred a few hours afterwards which might have been attended with more serious consequences. The ship was, during the day, surrounded by shore boats of all descriptions, containing Jews, sailors’ wives, and many other parties, who wished to have admittance on board. It was almost dusk, the tide was running strong flood, and the wind was very fresh, so that there was a good deal of sea. All the boats had been ordered to keep off by the first lieutenant, but they still lingered, in hope of getting on board.
I was looking over the stern, and perceived that the boat belonging to the bumboat woman, who was on board of the ship, was lying with her painter fast to the stern ladder; the waterman was in her, as well as one of the sailors’ wives, who had left her own wherry in hopes of getting on board when the waterman went alongside to take in the articles not sold, when the bumboat woman left the ship, which would be in a few minutes, as it was nearly gun-fire for sunset. The waterman, who thought it time to haul alongside, and wished to communicate with his employer on board, was climbing up by the stern ladder.
“That’s against orders, you know,” cried I to the man.
“Yes, sir; but it is so rough, that the boat would be swamped if it were to remain alongside long, and I hope you won’t order me down again; there’s some nice cakes in the boat, sir, just under the stern sheets, if you would like to have them, and think it worth while to go down for them.”
This was a bribe, and I replied, “No, I don’t want your cakes, but you may come up.”
The man thanked me, and walked forward as soon as he had gained the deck. On second thoughts, I determined that I would have the cakes; so I descended by the stern ladder, and desiring the woman who was left in the boat to haul upon the rope, contrived to get into the boat.
“What is it you want, my dear?” said the woman.
“I come for some of those cakes under the stern sheets,” replied I.
“Well, I’ll soon rummage them out,” said she, “and I hope you will let me slip on board when the boat is alongside. Mind, sir, how you step, you’ll smash all the pipes. Give me your hand. I’m an old sailor.”
“I should not think so,” replied I, looking at her. I could hardly make out her face, but her form was small, and, if an old sailor, she certainly was a very young woman.
We had a good many articles to remove before we could get at the cakes, which were under the stern sheets; and the boat rocked and tossed so violently with the sea which was running, that we were both on our knees for some little while before we obtained the basket: when we did, to our surprise, we found that the boat’s painter, somehow or another, had loosened, and that during our search we had drifted nearly one hundred yards from the ship.
“Mercy on me!—why, we are adrift,” exclaimed the woman. “What shall we do? It’s no use hailing, they’ll never hear us; look well round for any boat you may see.”
“It is getting so dark that we shall not see far,” replied I, not much liking our position. “Where shall we go to?”
“Go to!—clean out to St. Helen’s, if the boat does not fill before we get there; and further than that too, if I mistake not, with this gale of wind. We may as well say our prayers, youngster, I can tell you.”
“Can’t we make sail upon her?” replied I. “Can’t we try and pull on shore somewhere? Had we not better do that, and say our prayers afterwards?”
“Well said, my little bantam,” replied the woman: “you would have made a good officer if you had been spared; but the fact is, boy, that we can do nothing with the oars in this heavy sea; and as for the sail, how can you and I step the mast, rolling and tossing about in this way? If the mast were stepped, and the sail set, I think I could manage to steer, if the weather was smoother, but not in this bubble and this gale; it requires older hands than either you or I.”
“Well, then, what must we do?”
“Why, we must sit still and trust to our luck, bale out the boat, and keep her from swamping as long as we can, and between times we may cry, or we may pray, or we may eat the cakes and red herrings, or the soft bread and other articles in the boat.”
“Let’s bale the boat out first,” said I, “for she’s half full of water; then we’ll have something to eat, for I feel hungry and cold already, and then we may as well say our prayers.”
“Well, and I tell you what, we’ll have something to drink, too, for I have a drop for Jem, if I could have got on board. I promised it to him, poor fellow, but it’s no use keeping it now, for I expect we’ll both be in Davy’s locker before morning.”
The woman took out from where it was secreted in her dress, a bladder containing spirits; she opened the mouth of it, and poured out a portion into one of the milk-cans; having drunk herself, she handed it to me, but not feeling inclined, and being averse to spirits, I rejected it, “Not just now,” said I, “by-and-by perhaps.”
During the time of this conversation we were swept by a strong tide and strong wind right out of the anchorage at Spithead; the sea was very high, and dashed into the boat, so that I was continually baling to keep it free; the night was as dark as pitch; we could see nothing except the lights of the vessels which we had left far away from us, and they were now but as little twinkles as we rose upon the waves. The wind roared, and there was every appearance of a heavy gale.
“Little hopes of our weathering this storm,” said the woman; “we shall soon be swamped if we do not put her before the wind. I’ll see if I cannot find the lines.”
She did so after a time, and by means of a rudder put the boat before the wind; the boat then took in much less water, but ran at a swift rate through the heavy sea.
“There, we shall do better now; out to sea we go, that’s clear,” said the woman; “and before daylight we shall be in the Channel, if we do not fill and go down; and then, the Lord have mercy upon us, that’s all! Won’t you take a drop?” continued she, pouring out some spirits into the can.
As I felt very cold, I did not this time refuse. I drank a small quantity of the spirits; the woman took off the remainder, which, with what she had previously drunk, began to have an effect upon her.
“That’s right, my little Trojan,” said she, and she commenced singing. “A long pull, a strong pull, and a pull altogether; in spite of wind and weather, boys, in spite of wind and weather. Poor Jem,” continued she, “he’ll be disappointed; he made sure of being glorious to-night, and I made sure to sleep by his side—now he’ll be quite sober—and I’ll be food for fishes; it’s a cold bed that I shall turn into before morning, that’s certain. Hand me the cakes, boy, if you can fumble them out; the more we fill ourselves, the less room for salt water. Well, then, wind and waves are great bullies; they fly slap back in a fright when they bang against a great ship; but when they get hold of a little boat like this, how they leap and topple in, as if they made sure of us (here a wave dashed into the boat). Yes, that’s your sort. Come along, swamp a little boat you washy cowards, it’s only a woman and a boy. Poor Jim, he’ll miss me something, but he’ll miss the liquor more; who cares? Let’s have another drop.”
“Give me the lines, then,” said I, as I perceived she was letting them go, “or we shall be broadside to the waves again.”
I took the rudder lines from her, and steered the boat, while she again resorted to the bladder of spirits.
“Take another sip,” said she, after she had filled the milk-can; “it won’t harm you.”
I thought the same, for I was wet through, and the wind, as it howled, pierced me to the bones; I took a small quantity as before, and then continued to keep the boat before the wind. The sea was increasing very much and although no sailor, I felt fully convinced that the boat could not live much longer.
In the meantime the woman was becoming intoxicated very fast. I knew the consequence of this, and requested her to bale out the boat: she did so, and sang a mournful sort of song as she baled, but the howling of the wind prevented me from distinguishing the words.
I cannot well analyse my feelings at this time—they were confused; but this I know, self-preservation and hope were the most predominant. I thought of my mother, of my aunt, of Captain Bridgeman, Captain Delmar, and Bob Cross; but my thoughts were as rapid as the gale which bore us along, and I was too much employed in steering the boat, and preventing the seas from filling it, to have a moment to collect my ideas.
Again the woman applied to the bladder of spirits, and offered some to me; I refused. I had had enough, and by this time she had had too much, and after an attempt to bale she dropped down in the stern sheets, smashing pipes and everything beneath her, and spoke no more.
We had now been more than four hours adrift; the wind was as strong as ever, and, I thought, the sea much higher; but I kept the boat steady before the wind, and by degrees, as I became more accustomed to steer, she did not take in so much water; still the boat appeared to be sinking deeper down, and after a time I considered it necessary to bale her out. I did so with my hat, for I found it was half full of water; and then I execrated the woman for having intoxicated herself, so as to be useless in such an emergency.
I succeeded in clearing the boat of the major portion of the water, which was no easy task, as the boat, having remained broadside to the wind, had taken in the sea continually as I baled it out. I then once more resumed the helm, and put the boat before the wind, and thus did I continue for two hours more, when the rain came down in torrents, and the storm was wilder than ever, but a Portsmouth wherry is one of the best boats ever built, and so it proved in this instance. Still I was now in a situation most trying for a lad between fourteen and fifteen; my teeth chattered with the cold, and I was drenched through and through; the darkness was opaque, and I could see nothing but the white foam of the waves, which curled and broke close to the gunwale of the boat.
At one moment I despaired, and looked for immediate death; but my buoyant spirit raised me up again, and I hoped. It would be daylight in a few hours, and oh! how I looked and longed for daylight. I knew I must keep the boat before the wind; I did so, but the seas were worse than ever; they now continually broke into the boat, for the tide had turned, which had increased the swell.
Again I left the helm and bailed out; I was cold and faint, and I felt recovered with the exertion; I also tried to rouse the woman, but it was useless. I felt for her bladder of liquor, and found it in her bosom, more than half empty. I drank more freely, and my spirits and my courage revived. After that, I ate, and steered the boat, awaiting the coming daylight.
It came at last slowly—so slowly; but it did come, and I felt almost happy. There is such a horror in darkness when added to danger; I felt as if I could have worshipped the sun as it rose slowly, and with a watery appearance, above the horizon. I looked around me: there was something like land astern of us, such as I had seen pointed out as land by Bob Cross, when off the coast of Portugal; and so it was—it was the Isle of Wight: for the wind had changed when the rain came down, and I had altered the course of the boat so that for the last four hours I had been steering for the coast of France.
But, although I was cold and shivering, and worn out with watching, and tired with holding the lines by which the wherry was steered, I felt almost happy at the return of day. I looked down upon my companion in the boat; she lay sound asleep, with her head upon the basket of tobacco pipes, her bonnet wet and dripping, with its faded ribbons hanging in the water which washed to and fro at the bottom of the boat, as it rolled and rocked to the motion of the waves; her hair had fallen over her face, so as almost to conceal her features; I thought that she had died during the night, so silent and so breathless did she lie. The waves were not so rough now as they had been, for the flood tide had again made; and as the beams of the morning sun glanced on the water, the same billows which appeared so dreadful in the darkness appeared to dance merrily.
