Фредерик Марриет
Peter Simple
Chapter Thirty Eight
Captain Horton—Gloomy news from home—Get over head and ears in the water, and find myself afterwards growing one way, and my clothes another—Though neither as rich as a Jew, or as large as a camel, I pass through my examination, which my brother candidates think passing strange
The day after Captain Kearney’s decease, his acting successor made his appearance on board. The character of Captain Horton was well-known to us from the complaints made by the officers belonging to his ship, of his apathy and indolence; indeed, he went by the sobriquet of “the Sloth.” It certainly was very annoying to his officers to witness so many opportunities of prize-money and distinction thrown away through the indolence of his disposition. Captain Horton was a young man of family who had advanced rapidly in the service from interest, and from occasionally distinguishing himself. In the several cutting out expeditions, on which he had not volunteered but had been ordered, he had shown, not only courage, but a remarkable degree of coolness in danger and difficulty, which had gained him much approbation; but it was said, that this coolness arose from his very fault—an unaccountable laziness. He would walk away, as it were, from the enemy’s fire, when others would hasten, merely because he was so apathetic that he would not exert himself to run. In one cutting-out expedition in which he distinguished himself, it is said, that having to board a very high vessel, and that in a shower of grape and musketry, when the boat dashed alongside, and the men were springing up, he looked up at the height of the vessel’s sides, and exclaimed with a look of despair, “My God! must we really climb up that vessel’s decks?” When he had gained the deck, and became excited, he then proved how little fear had to do with the remark, the captain of the ship falling by his hand, as he fought in advance of his own men. But this peculiarity, which in a junior officer was of little consequence, and a subject of mirth, in a captain became of a very serious nature. The admiral was aware how often he had neglected to annoy or capture the enemy when he might have done it; and by such neglect, Captain Horton infringed one of the articles of war, the punishment awarded to which infringement is death. His appointment, therefore, to the Sanglier was as annoying to us, as his quitting his former ship was agreeable to those on board of her.
As it happened, it proved of little consequence: the admiral had instructions from home to advance Captain Horton to the first vacancy, which of course he was obliged to comply with; but not wishing to keep on the station an officer who would not exert himself, he resolved to send her to England with despatches, and retain the other frigate which had been ordered home, and which we had been sent up to replace. We therefore heard it announced with feelings of joy, mingled with regret, that we were immediately to proceed to England. For my part, I was glad of it. I had now served my time as midshipman, to within five months, and I thought that I had a better chance of being made in England than abroad. I was also very anxious to go home, for family reasons, which I have already explained. In a fortnight we sailed with several vessels, and directions to take charge of a large convoy from Quebec, which was to meet us off the island of St. John’s. In a few days we joined our convoy, and with a fair wind bore up for England. The weather soon became very bad, and we were scudding before a heavy gale, under bare poles. Our captain seldom quitted the cabin, but remained there on a sofa, stretched at his length, reading a novel, or dozing, as he found most agreeable.
I recollect a circumstance which occurred, which will prove the apathy of his disposition, and how unfit he was to command so fine a frigate. We had been scudding three days when the weather became much worse. O’Brien, who had the middle watch, went down to report that “it blew very hard.”
“Very well,” said the captain; “let me know if it blow harder.”
In about an hour more the gale increased, and O’Brien went down again. “It blows much harder, Captain Horton.”
“Very well,” answered Captain Horton, turning in his cot; “you may call me again when it blows harder.”
At about six bells the gale was at its height, and the wind roared in its fury. Down went O’Brien again. “It blows tremendous hard now, Captain Horton.”
“Well, well, if the weather becomes worse—”
“It can’t be worse,” interrupted O’Brien; “it’s impossible to blow harder.”
“Indeed! Well, then,” replied the captain, “let me know when it lulls.”
In the morning watch a similar circumstance took place. Mr Phillott, went down, and said that several of the convoy were out of sight astern. “Shall we heave-to, Captain Horton?”
“O no,” replied he, “she will be so uneasy. Let me know if you lose sight of any more.”
In another hour, the first lieutenant reported that “there were very few to be seen.”
“Very well, Mr Phillott,” replied the captain, turning round to sleep; “let me know if you lose any more.”
Some time elapsed, and the first lieutenant reported that “they were all out of sight.”
“Very well, then,” said the captain; “call me when you see them again.” This was not very likely to take place, as we were going twelve knots an hour, and running away from them as fast as we could, so the captain remained undisturbed until he thought proper to get up to breakfast. Indeed, we never saw any more of our convoy, but taking the gale with us, in fifteen days anchored in Plymouth Sound. The orders came down for the frigate to be paid off, all standing, and re-commissioned. I received letters from my father, in which he congratulated me at my name being mentioned in Captain Kearney’s despatches, and requested me to come home as soon as I could. The admiral allowed my name to be put down on the books of the guard-ship, that I might not lose my time, and then gave me two month’s leave of absence. I bade farewell to my shipmates, shook hands with O’Brien, who proposed to go over to Ireland previous to his applying for another ship, and, with my pay in my pocket, set off in the Plymouth mail, and in three days was once more in the arms of my affectionate mother, and warmly greeted by my father, and the remainder of my family.
Once more with my family, I must acquaint the reader with what had occurred since my departure. My eldest sister, Lucy, had married an officer in the army, a Captain Fielding, and his regiment having been ordered out to India, had accompanied her husband, and letters had been received just before my return, announcing their safe arrival at Ceylon. My second sister, Mary, had also been engaged to be married, and from her infancy was of extremely delicate health. She was very handsome, and much admired. Her intended husband was a baronet of good family; but unfortunately she caught a cold at the assize ball, and went off in a decline. She died about two months before my arrival, and the family were in deep mourning. My third sister, Ellen, was still unmarried; she, also, was a very beautiful girl, and now seventeen. My mother’s constitution was much shaken by the loss of my sister Mary, and the separation from her eldest child. As for my father, even the loss of his daughter appeared to be wholly forgotten in the unwelcome intelligence which he had received, that my uncle’s wife had been delivered of a son, which threw him out of the anticipated titles and estates of my grandfather. It was indeed a house of mourning. My mother’s grief I respected, and tried all I could to console her; that of my father was so evidently worldly, and so at variance with his clerical profession, that I must acknowledge I felt more of anger at it than sorrow. He had become morose and sullen, harsh to those around him, and not so kind to my mother as her state of mind and health made it his duty to be, even if inclination were wanted. He seldom passed any portion of the day with her, and in the evening she went to bed very early so that there was little communication between them. My sister was a great consolation to her, and so I hope was I; she often said so, as she embraced me, and the tears rolled down her cheeks, and I could not help surmising that those tears were doubled from the coolness and indifference, if not unkindness, with which my father behaved to her. As for my sister, she was an angel; and as I witnessed her considerate attentions to my mother, and the total forgetfulness of self which she displayed (so different from my father, who was all self), I often thought what a treasure she would prove to any man who was fortunate enough to win her love. Such was the state of my family when I returned to it.
I had been at home about a week, when one evening, after dinner, I submitted to my father the propriety of trying to obtain my promotion.
“I can do nothing for you, Peter; I have no interest whatever,” replied he moodily.
“I do not think that much is required, sir,” replied I; “my time will be served on the 20th of next month. If I pass, which I trust I shall be able to do, my name having been mentioned in the public despatches will render it a point of no very great difficulty to obtain my commission at the request of my grandfather.”
“Yes, your grandfather might succeed, I have no doubt: but I think you have little chance now in that quarter. My brother has a son, and we are thrown out. You are not aware, Peter, how selfish people are, and how little they will exert themselves for their relations. Your grandfather has never invited me, since the announcement of my brother’s increase to his family. Indeed, I have never been near him, for I know that it is of no use.”
“I must think otherwise of Lord Privilege, my dear father, until your opinion is confirmed by his own conduct. That I am not so much an object of interest I grant; but still he was very kind, and appeared to be partial to me.”
“Well, well, you can try all you can; but you’ll soon see of what stuff this world is made; I am sure I hope it will be so, for what is to become of you children if I die, I do not know;—I have saved little or nothing. And now all my prospects are blasted by this—” and my father dashed his fist upon the table in a manner by no means clerical, and with a look very unworthy of an apostle.
I am sorry that I must thus speak of my father, but I must not disguise the truth. Still, I must say, there was much in extenuation of his conduct. He had always a dislike to the profession of the church: his ambition, as a young man, had been to enter the army; for which service he was much better qualified; but, as it has been the custom for centuries to entail all the property of the aristocracy upon the eldest son, and leave the other brothers to be supported by the state, or rather by the people, who are taxed for their provision, my father was not permitted to follow the bent of his own inclination. An elder brother had already selected the army as his profession, and it was therefore decided that my father should enter the church: and thus it is that we have had, and still have, so many people in that profession, who are not only totally unfit for, but who actually disgrace their calling. The law of primogeniture is beset with evils and injustice; yet without it, the aristocracy of a country must sink into insignificance. It appears to me, that as long as the people of a country are content to support the younger sons of the nobility, it is well that the aristocracy should be held up as a third estate, and a link between the sovereign and the people; but that if the people are either too poor, or are unwilling to be so taxed, they have a right to refuse taxation for such purposes, and to demand that the law of primogeniture should be abolished.
I remained at home until my time was complete, and then set off for Plymouth to undergo my examination. The passing-day had been fixed by the admiral for the Friday, and as I arrived on Wednesday, I amused myself during the day, walking about the dock-yard, and trying all I could to obtain further information in my profession. On the Thursday, a party of soldiers from the depôt were embarking at the landing-place in men-of-war boats, and, as I understood, were about to proceed to India. I witnessed the embarkation, and waited till they shoved off, and then walked to the anchor wharf to ascertain the weights of the respective anchors of the different classes of vessels in the King’s service.
I had not been there long, when I was attracted by the squabbling created by a soldier, who, it appeared, had quitted the ranks to run up to the tap in the dock-yard to obtain liquor. He was very drunk, and was followed by a young woman with a child in her arms, who was endeavouring to pacify him.
“Now be quiet, Patrick, jewel,” said she, clinging to him, “sure it’s enough that you’ve left the ranks, and will come to disgrace when you get on board. Now, be quiet, Patrick, and let us ask for a boat, and then perhaps the officer will think it was all a mistake, and let you off aisy: and sure I’ll spake to Mr O’Rourke, and he’s a kind man.”
“Out wid you, you cratur, it is Mr O’Rourke you’d be having a conversation wid, and he be chucking you under that chin of yours. Out wid you, Mary, and lave me to find my way on board. Is it a boat I want, when I can swim like St. Patrick, wid my head under my arm, if it wasn’t on my shoulders? At all events, I can wid my nappersack and musket to boot.”
The young woman cried, and tried to restrain him, but he broke from her, and running down to the wharf, dashed off into the water. The young woman ran to the edge of the wharf, perceived him sinking, and shrieking with despair, threw up her arms in her agony. The child fell, struck on the edge of the piles, turned over, and before I could catch hold of it, sank into the sea. “The child! the child!” burst forth in another wild scream, and the poor creature lay at my feet in violent fits. I looked over, the child had disappeared; but the soldier was still struggling with his head above water. He sank and rose again—a boat was pulling towards him, but he was quite exhausted. He threw back his arms as if in despair, and was about disappearing under the wave, when, no longer able to restrain myself, I leaped off the high wharf, and swam to his assistance, just in time to lay hold of him as he was sinking for the last time. I had not been in the water a quarter of a minute before the boat came up to us, and dragged us on board. The soldier was exhausted and speechless; I, of course, was only very wet. The boat rowed to the landing-place at my request, and we were both put on shore. The knapsack which was fixed on the soldiers back, and his regimentals, indicated that he belonged to the regiment just embarked; and I stated my opinion, that as soon as he was a little recovered, he had better be taken on board. As the boat which picked us up was one of the men-of-war boats, the officer who had been embarking the troops, and had been sent on shore again to know if there were any yet left behind, consented. In a few minutes the soldier recovered, and was able to sit up and speak, and I only waited to ascertain the state of the poor young woman whom I had left on the wharf. In a few minutes she was led to us by the warder, and the scene between her and her husband was most affecting. When she had become a little composed, she turned round to me, where I stood dripping wet, and intermingled with lamentation for the child, showering down emphatic blessings on my head, inquired my name. “Give it to me!” she cried; “give it to me on paper, in writing, that I may wear it next my heart, read and kiss it every day of my life, and never forget to pray for you, and to bless you!”
“I’ll tell it you. My name—”
“Nay, write it down for me—write it down. Sure you’ll not refuse me. All the saints bless you, dear young man, for saving a poor woman from despair!”
The officer commanding the boat handed me a pencil and a card; I wrote my name and gave it to the poor woman; she took my hand as I gave it her, kissed the card repeatedly, and put it into her bosom. The officer, impatient to shove off, ordered her husband into the boat—she followed, clinging to him, wet as he was—the boat shoved off, and I hastened up to the inn to dry my clothes. I could not help observing, at the time, how the fear of a greater evil will absorb all consideration for a minor. Satisfied that her husband had not perished, she had hardly once appeared to remember that she had lost her child.
I had only brought one suit of clothes with me: they were in very good condition when I arrived, but salt water plays the devil with a uniform. I lay in bed until they were dry; but when I put them on again, not being before too large for me, for I grew very fast, they were now shrunk and shrivelled up so as to be much too small. My wrists appeared below the sleeves of my coat—my trowsers had shrunk halfway up to my knees—the buttons were all tarnished, and altogether I certainly did not wear the appearance of a gentlemanly, smart midshipman. I would have ordered another suit, but the examination was to take place at ten o’clock the next morning, and there was no time. I was therefore obliged to appear as I was, on the quarter-deck of the line-of-battle ship, on board of which the passing was to take place. Many others were there to undergo the same ordeal, all strangers to me, as I perceived by their nods and winks to each other, as they walked up and down in their smart clothes, not at all inclined to make my acquaintance.
There were many before me on the list, and our hearts beat every time that a name was called, and the owner of it walked aft into the cabin. Some returned with jocund faces, and our hopes mounted with the anticipation of similar good fortune; others came out melancholy and crest-fallen, and then the expression of their countenances was communicated to our own, and we quailed with fear and apprehension. I have no hesitation in asserting, that although “passing” may be a proof of being qualified, “not passing” is certainly no proof to the contrary. I have known many of the cleverest young men turned back (while others of inferior abilities have succeeded), merely from the feeling of awe occasioned by the peculiarity of the situation; and it is not to be wondered at, when it is considered that all the labour and exertion of six years are at stake at this appalling moment. At last my name was called, and, almost breathless from anxiety, I entered the cabin, where I found myself in presence of the three captains who was to decide whether I were fit to hold a commission in His Majesty’s service. My logs and certificates were examined and approved; my time calculated and allowed to be correct. The questions in navigation which were put to me were very few, for the best of all possible reasons, that most captains in His Majesty’s service knew little or nothing of navigation. During their servitude of midshipmen, they learn it by rote, without being aware of the principles upon which the calculations they use are founded. As lieutenants, their services as to navigation are seldom required, and they rapidly forget all about it. As captains, their whole remnant of mathematical knowledge consists in being able to set down the ship’s position on the chart. As for navigating the ship, the master is answerable; and the captains not being responsible themselves, they trust entirely to his reckoning. Of course there are exceptions, but what I state is the fact; and if an order from the Admiralty were given, that all captains should pass again, although they might acquit themselves very well in seamanship, nineteen out of twenty would be turned back when they were questioned in navigation. It is from the knowledge of this fact that I think the service is injured by the present system, and the captain should be held wholly responsible for the navigation of his ship. It has been long known that the officers of every other maritime state are more scientific than our own, which is easily explained, from the responsibility not being invested in our captains. The origin of masters in our service in singular. When England first became a maritime power, ships for the King’s service were found by the Cinque Ports and other parties—the fighting part of the crew was composed of soldiers sent on board. All the vessels at that time had a crew of sailors, with a master to navigate the vessel. During our bloody naval engagements with the Dutch, the same system was acted upon. I think it was the Earl of Sandwich, of whom it is stated, that his ship being in a sinking state, he took a boat to hoist his flag on board of another vessel in the fleet, but a shot cutting the boat in two, and the weight of his armour bearing him down, the Earl of Sandwich perished. But to proceed.
As soon as I had answered several questions satisfactorily, I was desired to stand up. The captain who had interrogated me on navigation, was very grave in his demeanour towards me, but at the same time not uncivil. During his examination, he was not interfered with by the other two, who only undertook the examination in “seamanship.” The captain, who now desired me to stand up, spoke in a very harsh tone, and quite frightened me. I stood up pale and trembling, for I augured no good from this commencement. Several questions in seamanship were put to me, which I have no doubt I answered in a very lame way, for I cannot even now recollect what I said.
“I thought so,” observed the captain; “I judged as much from your appearance. An officer who is so careless of his dress, as not even to put on a decent coat when he appears at his examination, generally turns out an idle fellow, and no seaman. One would think you had served all your time in a cutter, or a ten-gun brig, instead of dashing frigates. Come, sir, I’ll give you one more chance.”
I was so hurt at what the captain said, that I could not control my feelings. I replied with a quivering lip, that “I had had no time to order another uniform”—and I burst into tears.
“Indeed, Burrows, you are rather too harsh,” said the third captain; “the lad is frightened. Let him sit down and compose himself for a little while. Sit down, Mr Simple, and we will try you again directly.”
I sat down, checking my grief and trying to recall my scattered senses. The captains, in the meantime, turning over the logs to pass away the time; the one who had questioned me in navigation reading the Plymouth newspaper, which had a few minutes before been brought on board and sent into the cabin. “Heh! what’s this? I say, Burrows—Keats, look here,” and he pointed to a paragraph. “Mr Simple, may I ask whether it was you who saved the soldier who leaped off the wharf yesterday.”
“Yes, sir,” replied I, “and that’s the reason why my uniforms are so shabby. I spoilt them then, and had no time to order others. I did not like to say why they were spoilt.” I saw a change in the countenances of all the three, and it gave me courage. Indeed, now that my feelings had found vent, I was no longer under any apprehension.
“Come, Mr Simple, stand up again,” said the captain, kindly, “that is if you feel sufficiently composed: if not, we will wait a little longer. Don’t be afraid, we wish to pass you.”
I was not afraid, and stood up immediately. I answered every question satisfactorily, and finding that I did so, they put more difficult ones. “Very good, very good indeed, Mr Simple; now let me ask you one more; it’s seldom done in the service, and perhaps you may not be able to answer it. Do you know how to club-haul a ship?”
“Yes, sir,” replied I, having, as the reader may recollect, witnessed the manoeuvre when serving under poor Captain Savage, and I immediately stated how it was to be done.
“That is sufficient, Mr Simple; I wish to ask you no more questions. I thought at first you were a careless officer and no seaman: I now find you are a good seaman and a gallant young man. Do you wish to ask any more questions?” continued he, turning to the two others.
They replied in the negative; my passing certificate was signed, and the captain did me the honour to shake hands with me, and wish me speedy promotion. Thus ended happily this severe trial to my poor nerves; and, as I came out of the cabin, no one could have imagined that I had been in such distress within, when they beheld the joy that irradiated my countenance.
