Фредерик Марриет
Peter Simple
At this time I thought I might venture to talk a little with my partner, and I ventured a remark. To my surprise, she answered very sharply, “I come here for dance, sar, and not for chatter: look Massa Johnson, he tap um bow-tick.”
The second figure commenced, and I made a sad bungle: so I did of the third, and fourth, and fifth, for I never had danced a cotillon. When I handed my partner to her place, who certainly was the prettiest girl in the room, she looked rather contemptuously at me, and observed to a neighbour, “I really pity de gentleman as come from England dat no know how to dance, nor nothing at all, until em hab instruction at Barbadoes.”
A country dance was now called for, which was more acceptable to all parties, as none of Mr Apollo Johnson’s pupils were very perfect in their cotillon, and none of the officers, except O’Brien, knew anything about them. O’Brien’s superior education on this point, added to his lieutenant’s epaulet and handsome person, made him much courted: but he took up with Miss Eurydice after I had left her, and remained with her the whole evening; thereby exciting the jealousy of Mr Apollo Johnson, who, it appears, was amorous in that direction. Our party increased every minute: all the officers of the garrison, and, finally, as soon as they could get away, the governor’s aides-de-camp, all dressed in mufti (i.e. plain clothes). The dancing continued until three o’clock in the morning, when it was quite a squeeze, from the constant arrival of fresh recruits from all the houses in Barbadoes. I must say, that a few bottles of Eau de Cologne thrown about the room would have improved the atmosphere. By this time the heat was terrible, and the mopping of the ladies’ faces everlasting. I would recommend a dignity ball to all stout gentlemen, who wish to be reduced a stone or two. Supper was now announced, and having danced the last country dance with Miss Minerva, I of course had the pleasure of handing her into the supper room. It was my fate to sit opposite to a fine turkey, and I asked my partner if I should have the pleasure of helping her to a piece of the breast. She looked at me very indignantly, and said, “Curse your impudence, sir, I wonder where you larn manners. Sar, I take a lily turkey bosom, if you please. Talk of breast to a lady, sar!—really quite horrid.” I made two or three more barbarous mistakes before the supper was finished. At last the eating was over, and I must say a better supper I never sat down to. “Silence, gentlemen and ladies,” cried Mr Apollo Johnson, “wid de permission of our amiable hostess, I will purpose a toast. Gentlemen and ladies—You all know, and if be so you don’t, I say there no place in de world like Barbadoes. All de world fight again England, but England nebber fear; King George nebber fear, while Barbadoes ’tand ’tiff. ’Badian fight for King George to last drop of him blood. Nebber see the day ’Badian run away; you all know dem French mans at San Lucee, give up Morne Fortunée, when he hear de ’Badi volunteer come against him. I hope no ’fence present company, but um sorry to say English come here too jealous of ’Badians. Gentlemen and lady—Barbadian born ab only one fault—he really too brave. I purpose health of ‘Island of Barbadoes.’” Acclamations from all quarters follow—this truly modest speech, and the toast was drunk with rapture; the ladies were delighted with Mr Apollo’s eloquence, and the lead which he took in the company.
O’Brien then rose and addressed the company as follows:– “Ladies an gentlemen—Mr Poll has spoken better than the best parrot I ever met with in this country; but as he has thought proper to drink the ‘Island of Barbadoes,’ I mean to be a little more particular. I wish, with him, all good health to the island; but there is a charm without which the island would be a desert—that is, the society of the lovely girls who now surround us, and take our hearts by storm,”—(here O’Brien put his arm gently round Miss Eurydice’s waist, and Mr Apollo ground his teeth so as to be heard at the furthest end of the room,)—therefore, gentlemen, with your permission, I will propose the health of the ‘’Badian Ladies.’ This speech of O’Brien’s was declared, by the females at least, to be infinitely superior to Mr Apollo Johnson’s. Miss Eurydice was even more gracious, and the other ladies were more envious.
Many other toasts and much more wine was drunk, until the male part of the company appeared to be rather riotous. Mr Apollo, however, had to regain his superiority, and after some hems and hahs, begged permission to give a sentiment. “Gentlemen and ladies, I beg then to say—
“Here’s to de cock who make lub to de hen,
Crow till he hoarse, and make lub again.”
The sentiment was received with rapture; and after silence was obtained, Miss Betsy Austin rose and said—“Unaccustomed as she was to public ’peaking, she must not sit ’till and not tank de gentleman for his very fine toast, and in de name of de ladies,” she begged leave to propose another sentimen, which was—
“Here to de hen what nebber refuses,
Let cock pay compliment whenebber he chooses.”
If the first toast was received with applause, this was with enthusiasm; but we received a damper after it was subsided, by the lady of the house getting up and saying—“Now, gentlemen and ladies, me tink it right to say dat it time to go home; I nebber allow people get drunk or kick up bobbery in my house, so now I tink we better take parting-glass, and very much obliged to you for your company.”
As O’Brien said, this was a broad hint to be off, so we all now took our parting-glass, in compliance with her request and our own wishes, and proceeded to escort our partners on their way home. While I was assisting Miss Minerva to her red crape shawl, a storm was brewing in another quarter, to wit, between Mr Apollo Johnson and O’Brien. O’Brien was assiduously attending to Miss Eurydice, whispering what he called soft blarney in her ear, when Mr Apollo, who was above spirit-boiling heat with jealousy, came up, and told Miss Eurydice that he would have the honour of escorting her home.
“You may save yourself the trouble, you dingy gut-scraper,” replied O’Brien; “the lady is under my protection, so take your ugly black face out of the way, or I’ll show you how I treat a ‘’Badian who is really too brave.’”
“So ’elp me Gad, Massa Lieutenant, ’pose you put a finger on me, I show you what ’Badian can do.”
Apollo then attempted to insert himself between O’Brien and his lady, upon which O’Brien shoved him back with great violence, and continued his course towards the door. They were in the passage when I came up, for hearing O’Brien’s voice in anger, I left Miss Minerva to shift for herself.
Miss Eurydice had now left O’Brien’s arm, at his request, and he and Mr Apollo were standing in the passage, O’Brien close to the door, which was shut, and Apollo swaggering up to him. O’Brien, who knew the tender part of a black, saluted Apollo with a kick on the shins, which would have broken my leg. Massa Johnson roared with pain, and recoiled two or three paces, parting the crowd away behind him. The blacks never fight with fists, but butt with their heads like rams, and with quite as much force. When Mr Apollo had retreated he gave his shin one more rub, uttered a loud yell, and started at O’Brien, with his head aimed at O’Brien’s chest, like a battering-ram. O’Brien, who was aware of this plan of fighting, stepped dexterously on one side, and allowed Mr Apollo to pass by him, which he did with such force, that his head went clean through the panel of the door behind O’Brien, and there he stuck as fast as if in a pillory, squealing like a pig for assistance, and foaming with rage. After some difficulty he was released, and presented a very melancholy figure. His face was much cut, and his superb jabot all in tatters; he appeared, however, to have had quite enough of it, as he retreated to the supper-room, followed by some of his admirers, without asking or looking after O’Brien.
But if Mr Apollo had had enough of it, his friends were too indignant to allow us to go off scot-free. A large mob was collected in the street, vowing vengeance on us for our treatment of their flash man, and a row was to be expected. Miss Eurydice had escaped, so that O’Brien had his hands free. “Cam out, you hangman tiefs, cam out! only wish had rock stones to mash your heads with,” cried the mob of negroes. The officers now sallied out in a body, and were saluted with every variety of missile, such as rotten oranges, cabbage-stalks, mud, and cocoa-nut shells. We fought our way manfully, but as we neared the beach the mob increased to hundreds, and at last we could proceed no further, being completely jammed up by the niggers, upon whose heads we could make no more impression than upon blocks of marble. “We must draw our swords,” observed an officer. “No, no,” replied O’Brien, “that will not do; if once we shed blood, they will never let us get on board with our lives. The boat’s crew by this time must be aware that there is a row.” O’Brien was right. He had hardly spoken, before a lane was observed to be made through the crowd in the distance, which in two minutes was open to us. Swinburne appeared in the middle of it, followed by the rest of the boat’s crew, armed with the boat’s stretchers, which they did not aim at the heads of the blacks, but swept them like scythes against their shins. This they continued to do, right and left of us, as we walked through and went down to the boats, the seamen closing up the rear with their stretchers, with which they ever and anon made a sweep at the black fellows if they approached too near. It was now broad daylight, and in a few minutes we were again safely on board the frigate. Thus ended the first and last dignity ball that I attended.
Chapter Thirty Two
I am claimed by Captain Kearney as a relation—Trial of skill between first lieutenant and captain with the long bow—The shark, the pug dog, and the will—A quarter-deck picture
As the admiral was not one who would permit the ships under his command to lie idle in port, in a very few days after the dignity hall which I have described, all the squadron sailed on their various destinations. I was not sorry to leave the bay, for one soon becomes tired of profusion, and I cared nothing for either oranges, bananas, or shaddocks, nor even for the good dinners and claret at the tables of the army mess and gentlemen of the island. The sea breeze soon became more precious to us than anything else; and if we could have bathed without the fear of a shark, we should have equally appreciated that most refreshing of all luxuries under the torrid zone. It was therefore with pleasure that we received the information that we were to sail the next day to cruise off the French island of Martinique. Captain Kearney had been so much on shore that we saw but little of him, and the ship was entirely under the control of the first lieutenant, of whom I have hitherto not spoken. He was a very short, pock-marked man, with red hair and whiskers, a good sailor, and not a bad officer; that is, he was a practical sailor, and could show any foremast man his duty in any department, and this seamen very much appreciate, as it is not very common; but I never yet knew an officer who prided himself upon his practical knowledge, who was at the same time a good navigator; and too often, by assuming the Jack Tar, they lower the respect due to them, and become coarse and vulgar in their manners and language. This was the case with Mr Phillott, who prided himself upon his slang, and who was at one time “hail fellow, well met” with the seamen, talking to them, and being answered as familiarly as if they were equals, and at another, knocking the very same men down with a handspike if he were displeased. He was not bad tempered, but very hasty; and his language to the officers was occasionally very incorrect—to the midshipmen invariably so. However, on the whole, he was not disliked, although he was certainly not respected as a first lieutenant should have been. It is but fair to say that he was the same to his superiors as he was to his inferiors; and the bluntness with which he used to contradict and assert his disbelief of Captain Kearney’s narratives often produced a coolness between them for some days.
The day after we sailed from Carlisle Bay I was asked to dine in the cabin. The dinner was served upon plated dishes, which looked very grand, but there was not much in them. “This plate,” observed the captain, “was presented to me by some merchants for my exertions in saving their property from the Danes, when I was cruising off Heligoland.”
“Why, that lying steward of yours told me that you bought it at Portsmouth,” replied the first lieutenant: “I asked him in the galley this morning.”
“How came you to assert such a confounded falsehood, sir?” said the captain to the man who stood behind his chair.
“I only said that I thought so,” replied the steward.
“Why, didn’t you say that the bill had been sent in, through you, seven or eight times, and that the captain had paid it with a flowing sheet?”
“Did you dare say that, sir?” interrogated the captain, very angrily.
“Mr Phillott mistook me, sir,” replied the steward. “He was so busy damning the sweepers, that he did not hear me right. I said, the midshipmen had paid their crockery bill with the fore-topsail.”
“Ay, ay,” replied the captain, “that’s much more likely.”
“Well, Mr Steward,” replied Mr Phillott, “I’ll be damned if you ar’n’t as big a liar as your—” (master he was going to plump out, but fortunately the first lieutenant checked himself, and added)—“as your father was before you.”
The captain changed the conversation by asking me whether I would take a slice of ham. “It’s real Westphalia, Mr Simple; I have them sent me direct by Count Troningsken, an intimate friend of mine, who kills his own wild boars in the Hartz mountains.”
“How the devil do you get them over, Captain Kearney?”
“There are ways and means of doing everything, Mr Phillott, and the First Consul is not quite so bad as he is represented. The first batch was sent over with a very handsome letter to me, written in his own hand, which I will show you some of these days. I wrote to him in return, and sent to him two Cheshire cheeses by a smuggler, and since that they came regularly. Did you ever eat Westphalia ham, Mr Simple?”
“Yes, sir,” replied I: “once I partook of one at Lord Privilege’s.”
“Lord Privilege! why he’s a distant relation of mine, a sort of fifth cousin,” replied Captain Kearney.
“Indeed, sir,” replied I.
“Then you must allow me to introduce you to a relation, Captain Kearney,” said the first lieutenant; “for Mr Simple is his grandson.”
“Is it possible? I can only say, Mr Simple, that I shall be most happy to show you every attention, and am very glad that I have you as one of my officers.”
Now, although this was all false, for Captain Kearney was not in the remotest manner connected with my family, yet, having once asserted it, he could not retract, and the consequence was, that I was much the gainer by his falsehood, as he treated me very kindly afterwards, always calling me cousin.
The first lieutenant smiled, and gave me a wink, when the captain had finished his speech to me, as much as to say, “You’re in luck,” and then the conversation changed. Captain Kearney certainly dealt in the marvellous to admiration, and really told his stories with such earnestness, that I actually believe that he thought he was telling the truth. Never was there such an instance of confirmed habit. Telling a story of a cutting-out expedition, he said, “The French captain would have fallen by my hand, but just as I levelled my musket, a ball came, and cut off the cock of the lock, as clean as if it was done with a knife—a very remarkable instance,” observed he.
“Not equal to what occurred in a ship I was in,” replied the first lieutenant, “when the second lieutenant was grazed by a grape shot, which cut off one of his whiskers, and turning round his head to ascertain what was the matter, another grape shot came and took off the other. Now that’s what I call a close shave.”
“Yes,” replied Captain Kearney, “very close, indeed, if it were true; but you’ll excuse me, Mr Phillott, but you sometimes tell strange stories. I do not mind it myself, but the example is not good to my young relation here, Mr Simple.”
“Captain Kearney,” replied the first lieutenant, laughing very immoderately, “do you know what the pot called the kettle?”
“No, sir, I do not,” retorted the captain, with offended dignity. “Mr Simple, will you take a glass of wine?”
I thought that this little brouillerie would have checked the captain; it did so, but only for a few minutes, when he again commenced. The first lieutenant observed that it would be necessary to let water into the ship every morning, and pump it out, to avoid the smell of the bilge water.
“There are worse smells than bilge water,” replied the captain. “What do you think of a whole ship’s company being nearly poisoned with otto of roses? Yet that occurred to me when in the Mediterranean. I was off Smyrna, cruising for a French ship, that was to sail to France, with a pacha on board, as an ambassador. I knew she would be a good prize, and was looking sharp out, when one morning we discovered her on the lee bow. We made all sail, but she walked away from us, bearing away gradually till we were both before the wind, and at night we lost sight of her. As I knew that she was bound to Marseilles, I made all sail to fall in with her again. The wind was light and variable; but five days afterwards, as I lay in my cot, just before daylight, I smelt a very strong smell, blowing in at the weather port, and coming down the skylight which was open; and after sniffing at it two or three times, I knew it to be otto of roses. I sent for the officer of the watch, and asked him if there were anything in sight. He replied ‘that there was not;’ and I ordered him to sweep the horizon with his glass, and look well out to windward. As the wind freshened, the smell became more powerful. I ordered him to get the royal yards across, and all ready to make sail, for I knew that the Turk must be near us. At daylight, there he was, just three miles ahead in the wind’s eye. But although he beat us going free, he was no match for us on a wind, and before noon we had possession of him and all his harem. By-the-bye, I could tell you a good story about the ladies. She was a very valuable prize, and among other things she had a puncheon of otto of roses on board—”
“Whew!” cried the first lieutenant. “What! a whole puncheon?”
“Yes,” replied the captain, “a Turkish puncheon—not quite so large, perhaps, as ours on board; their weights and measures are different. I took out most of the valuables into the brig I commanded—about 20,000 sequins—carpets—and among the rest, this cask of otto of roses, which we had smelt three miles off. We had it safe on board, when the mate of the hold, not slinging it properly, it fell into the spirit-room with a run and was stove to pieces. Never was such a scene; my first lieutenant and several men on deck fainted; and the men in the hold were brought up lifeless: it was some time before they were recovered. We let the water into the brig, and pumped it out, but nothing would take away the smell, which was so overpowering, that before I could get to Malta I had forty men on the sick-list. When I arrived there, I turned the mate out of the service for his carelessness. It was not until after having smoked the brig, and finding that of little use, after having sunk her for three weeks, that the smell was at all bearable; but even then it could never be eradicated, and the admiral sent the brig home, and she was sold out of the service. They could do nothing with her at the dock-yards. She was broken up, and bought by the people at Brighton and Tunbridge Wells, who used her timbers for turning fancy articles, which, smelling as they did so strongly of otto of roses, proved very profitable. Were you ever at Brighton, Mr Simple?”
“Never, sir.”
Just at this moment, the officer of the watch came down to say that there was a very large shark under the counter, and wished to know if the captain had any objection to the officers attempting to catch it.
“By no means,” replied Captain Kearney; “I hate sharks as I do the devil. I nearly lost 14,000 pounds by one, when I was in the Mediterranean.”
“May I inquire how, Captain Kearney;” said the first lieutenant, with a demure face; “I’m very anxious to know.”
“Why the story is simply this,” replied the captain. “I had an old relation at Malta, whom I found out by accident—an old maid of sixty, who had lived all her life on the island. It was by mere accident that I knew of her existence. I was walking upon Strada Reale, when I saw a large baboon that was kept there, who had a little fat pug-dog by the tail, which he was pulling away with him, while an old lady was screaming out for help or whenever she ran to assist her dog, the baboon made at her as if he would have ravished her, and caught her by the petticoats with one hand, while he had the pug-dog fast by the other. I owed that brute a spite for having attacked me one night when I passed him, and perceiving what was going on, I drew my sword and gave Mr Jacko such a clip, as sent him away howling and bleeding like a pig, leaving me in possession of the little pug, which I took up and handed to his mistress. The old lady trembled very much, and begged me to see her safe home. She had a very fine house, and after she was seated on the sofa, thanked me very much for my gallant assistance, as she termed it, and told me her name was Kearney: upon this I very soon proved my relationship with her, at which she was much delighted, requesting me to consider her house as my home. I was for two years afterwards on that station, and played my cards very well; and the old lady gave me a hint that I should be her heir, as she had no other relations that she knew anything of. At last I was ordered home, and not wishing to leave her, I begged her to accompany me, offering her my cabin. She was taken very ill a fortnight before we sailed, and made a will, leaving me her sole heir; but she recovered, and got as fat as ever. Mr Simple, the wine stands with you. I doubt if Lord Privilege gave you better claret than there is in that bottle: I imported it myself ten years ago, when I commanded the Coquette.”
“Very odd,” observed the first lieutenant—“we bought some at Barbadoes with the same mark on the bottles and cork.”
“That may be,” replied the captain; “old established houses all keep up the same marks; but I doubt if your wine can be compared to this. You have never tasted older wine, I think, Mr Phillott.”
“I beg you pardon, sir; but I can prove to you that I have, for when Noah paid off the ark, my ancestor bought his sea stock, and it’s been handed down to my father: there may be three dozen left.”
“Really, Mr Phillott, you are almost too facetious. Will you take some macaroni. It is one of the best things we can have at sea. I wish you had seen my kitchen at Walcot Abbey.”
“I have no doubt but it was excellent,” replied Mr Phillott; “but I should have preferred eating what came from it. I wish that I had a knowledge of the art which a friend of mine has—a new science, I may say.”
“Pray what may that be?”
“They call it fumography.”
“Fumography! never heard of it.”
“It is the art of knowing precisely, by examination of the smoke which comes out of the chimney, what your neighbour has for dinner.”
“Upon my soul, if one could send an excuse at a late hour, that might be useful.”
“My friend is quite an adept. He can tell first and second course entremets, and even if the different articles to be put on the table are done to a turn, or not.”
“Now, Mr Simple, what do you think of that?” inquired the captain.
“I think, sir, that it’s all smoke.”
“Bravo, Mr Simple! you’ve said a very good thing.”
So I thought, too; but, as I wasn’t quite sure, I would not laugh till all the rest of the company did.
As Mr Phillott wished to hear the end of the captain’s story, he would not contradict him about the wine, by stating what he knew to be the case, that the captain had sent it on board at Barbadoes; and the captain proceeded.
“Well, I gave up my cabin to the old lady, and hung up my cot in the gun-room during the passage home. We were becalmed abreast of Ceuta for two days. The old lady was very particular about her pug-dog, and I superintended the washing of the little brute twice a week but at last I was tired of it, and gave him to my coxswain to bathe. My coxswain, who was a lazy fellow, without my knowledge, used to put the little beast into the bight of a rope, and tow him overboard for a minute or so. It was during this calm that he had him overboard in this way, when a confounded shark rose from under the counter, and took in the pug-dog at one mouthful. The coxswain reported the loss as a thing of no consequence; but I knew better, and put the fellow in irons. I then went down and broke the melancholy fact to Miss Kearney, stating that I had put the man in irons, and would flog him well. The old lady broke out into a most violent passion at the intelligence, declared that it was my fault, that I was jealous of the dog, and had done it on purpose. The more I protested, the more she raved; and at last I was obliged to go off deck to avoid her abuse and keep my temper—I had not been on deck five minutes before she came up—that is, was shoved up, for she was so heavy that she could not get up without assistance. You know how elephants in India push the cannon through a morass with their heads from behind; well, my steward used to shove her up the companion-ladder just in the same way, with his head completely buried in her petticoats. As soon as she was up, he used to pull his head out, looking as red and hot as a fresh boiled lobster. Well, up she came, with her will in her hand, and looking at me very fiercely, she said, ‘since the shark has taken my dear dog, he may have my will also,’ and throwing it over board, she plunged down on the carronade slide. ‘It’s very well, madam,’ said I; ‘but you’ll be cool by-and-bye, and then you’ll make another will.’ ‘I swear by all the hopes that I have of going to heaven that I never will!’ replied she. ‘Yes you will, madam,’ replied I. ‘Never, so help me God! Captain Kearney, my money may now go to my next heir, and that, you know, will not be you.’ Now, as I knew very well that the old lady was very positive, and as good as her word, my object was to recover the will, which was floating about fifty yards astern, without her knowledge. I thought a moment, and then I called the boatswain’s mate to pipe all hands to bathe. ‘You’ll excuse me, Miss Kearney,’ said I, ‘but the men are going to bathe, and I do not think you would like to see them all naked. If you would, you can stay on deck.’ She looked daggers at me, and rising from the carronade slide, hobbled to the ladder, saying, that ‘the insult was another proof of how little I deserved any kindness from her.’ As soon as she was below, the quarter-boats were lowered down, and I went in one of them and picked up the will, which still floated. Brigs having no stern-windows, of course she could not see my manoeuvre, but thought that the will was lost for ever. We had very bad weather after that, owing to which, with the loss of her favourite pug, and constant quarrelling with me—for I did all I could to annoy her afterwards—she fell ill, and was buried a fortnight after she was landed at Plymouth. The old lady kept her word; she never made another will. I proved the one I had recovered at Doctor’s Commons, and touched the whole of her money.”
As neither the first lieutenant nor I could prove whether the story was true or not, of course we expressed our congratulations at his good fortune, and soon afterwards left the cabin to report the marvellous story to our messmates. I went on deck. I found that the shark had just been hooked, and was being hauled on board. Mr Phillott had also come on deck. The officers were all eager about the shark, and were looking over the side, calling to each other, and giving directions to the men. Now, although certainly there was a want of decorum on the quarter-deck, still the captain having given permission, it was to be excused, but Mr Phillott thought otherwise, and commenced in his usual style, beginning with the marine officer.
“Mr Westley, I’ll trouble you not to be getting upon the hammocks. You’ll get off directly, sir. If one of your fellows were to do so, I’d stop his grog for a month, and I don’t see why you are to set a bad example; you’ve been too long in barracks, sir, by half. Who is that?—Mr Williams and Mr Moore—both on the hammocks, too. Up to the fore-topmast head, both of you directly. Mr Thomas, up to the main; and I say, you youngster, stealing off, perch yourself upon the spanker-boom, and let me know when you’ve rode to London. By God! the service is going to hell. I don’t know what officers are made of now-a-days. I’ll marry some of you young gentlemen to the gunner’s daughter before long. Quarter-deck’s no better than a bear garden. No wonder, when lieutenants set the example.”
This latter remark could only be applied to O’Brien, who stood in the quarter-boat giving directions, before the tirade of Mr Phillott stopped the amusement of the party. O’Brien immediately stepped out of the boat, and, going up to Mr Phillott, touched his hat, and said, “Mr Phillott, we had the captain’s permission to catch the shark and a shark is not to be got on board by walking up and down on the quarter-deck. As regards myself, as long as the captain is on board, I hold myself responsible to him alone for my conduct; and if you think I have done wrong, forward your complaint; but if you pretend to use such language to me, as you have to others, I shall hold you responsible. I am here, sir, as an officer and a gentleman, and will be treated as such; and allow me to observe, that I consider the quarter-deck more disgraced by foul and ungentlemanly language, than I do by an officer accidentally standing upon the hammocks. However, as you have thought proper to interfere, you may now get the shark on board yourself.”
