I do not remember any circumstance in my life which, at that time, lay
so heavily on my mind, as the loss of poor Mr Chucks, the boatswain,
whom, of course, I took it for granted I should never see again. I
believe that the chief cause was, that at the time I entered the
service, and every one considered me to be the fool of the family, Mr
Chucks and O'Brien were the only two who thought of and treated me
differently; and it was their conduct which induced me to apply myself,
and encouraged me to exertion. I believe, that many a boy, who, if
properly patronised, would turn out well, is, by the injudicious system
of brow-beating and ridicule, forced into the wrong path, and, in his
despair, throws away all self-confidence, and allows himself to be
carried away by the stream to perdition. O'Brien was not very partial
to reading himself; he played the German flute remarkably well, and had
a very good voice. His chief amusement was practising, or rather
playing, which is a very different thing; but although he did not study
himself, he always made me come into his cabin for an hour or two every
day, and after I had read, repeat to him the contents of the book. By
this method, he not only instructed me, but gained a great deal of
information himself; for he made so many remarks upon what I had read,
that it was impressed upon both our memories.
"Well, Peter," he would say, as became into the cabin, "what have you to
tell me this morning? Sure it's you that's the schoolmaster, and not
me--for I learn from you every day."
"I have not read much, O'Brien, to-day, for I have been thinking of poor
Mr Chucks."
"Very right for you so to do, Peter: never forget your friends in a
hurry; you'll not find too many of them as you trot along the highway of
life."
"I wonder whether he is dead?"
"Why, that's a question I cannot answer: a bullet through the chest
don't lengthen a man's days, that's certain; but this I know, that he'll
not die if he can help it, now that he's got the captain's jacket on."
"Yes; he always aspired to be a gentleman--which was absurd enough in a
boatswain."
"Not at all absurd, Peter, but very absurd of you to talk without
thinking: when did any one of his shipmates ever know Mr Chucks to do
an unhandsome or mean action? Never--and why? because he aspired to be
a gentleman, and that feeling kept him above it. Vanity's a confounded
donkey, very apt to put his head between his legs, and chuck us over;
but pride's a fine horse, who will carry us over the ground, and enable
us to distance our fellow-travellers. Mr Chucks had pride, and that's
always commendable, even in a boatswain. How often have you read of
people rising from nothing, and becoming great men? This was from
talent, sure enough: but it was talent with pride to force it onward,
not talent with vanity to cheek it."
"You are very right, O'Brien; I spoke foolishly."
"Never mind, Peter, nobody heard you but me, so it's of no consequence.
Don't you dine in the cabin to-day?"
"Yes."
"So do I. The captain is in a most marvellous humour this morning. He
told me one or two yarns that quite staggered my politeness and my
respect for him on the quarter-deck. What a pity it is that a man
should have gained such a bad habit!"
"He's quite incurable, I'm afraid," replied I; "but, certainly, his fibs
do no harm; they are what they call white lies: I do not think he would
really tell a lie, that is, a lie which would be considered to disgrace
a gentleman."
"Peter, _all_ lies disgrace a gentleman, white or black; although I
grant there is a difference. To say the least of it, it is a dangerous
habit, for white lies are but the gentlemen ushers to black ones. I
know but of one point on which a lie is excusable, and that is, when you
wish to deceive the enemy. Then your duty to your country warrants your
lying till you're black in the face; and, for the very reason that it
goes against your grain, it becomes, as if were, a sort of virtue."
"What was the difference between the marine officer and Mr Phillott
that occurred this morning?"
"Nothing at all in itself--the marine officer is a bit of a gaby, and
takes offence where none is meant. Mr Phillott has a foul tongue, but
he has a good heart."
"What a pity it is!"
"It is a pity, for he's a smart officer; but the fact is, Peter, that
junior officers are too apt to copy their superiors, and that makes it
very important that a young gentleman should sail with a captain who is
a gentleman. Now, Phillott served the best of his time with Captain
Ballover, who is notorious in the service for foul and abusive language.
What is the consequence?--that Phillott, and many others, who have
served under him, have learnt his bad habit."
"I should think, O'Brien, that the very circumstance of having had your
feelings so often wounded by such language when you were a junior
officer, would make you doubly careful not to make use of it to others,
when you had advanced in the service."
"Peter, that's just the _first_ feeling, which wears away after a time;
but at last, your own sense of indignation becomes blunted, and becoming
indifferent to it, you forget also that you wound the feelings of
others, and carry the habit with you, to the great injury and disgrace
of the service. But it's time to dress for dinner, so you'd better make
yourself scarce, Peter, while I tidivate myself off a little, according
to the rules and regulations of His Majesty's service, when you are
asked to dine with the skipper."
We met at the captain's table, where we found, as usual, a great display
of plate, but very little else, except the ship's allowance. We
certainly had now been cruising some time, and there was some excuse for
it; but still, few captains would have been so unprovided. "I'm afraid,
gentlemen, you will not have a very grand dinner," observed the captain,
as the steward removed the plated covers off the dishes; "but when on
service we must rough it out how we can. Mr O'Brien, pea-soup? I
recollect faring harder than this through one cruise, in a flush vessel.
We were thirteen weeks up to our knees in water, and living the whole
time upon raw pork--not being able to light a fire during the cruise."
"Pray, Captain Kearney, may I ask where this happened?"
"To be sure. It was off Bermudas: we cruised for seven weeks before we
could find the Islands, and began verily to think that the Bermudas were
themselves on a cruise."
"I presume, sir, you were not sorry to have a fire to cook your
provisions when you came to an anchor?" said O'Brien.
"I beg your pardon," replied Captain Kearney; "we had become so
accustomed to raw provisions and wet feet, that we could not eat our
meals cooked, or help dipping our legs over the side, for a long while
afterwards. I saw one of the boat keepers astern catch a large
barracouta, and eat it alive--indeed, if I had not given the strictest
orders, and flogged half-a-dozen of them, I doubt whether they would not
have eaten their victuals raw to this day. The force of habit is
tremendous."
"It is, indeed," observed Mr Phillott, dryly, and winking to us--
referring to the captain's incredible stories.
"It is, indeed," repeated O'Brien; "we see the ditch in our neighbour's
eye, and cannot observe the log of wood in our own;" and O'Brien winked
at me, referring to Phillott's habit of bad language.
"I once knew a married man," observed the captain, "who had been always
accustomed to go to sleep with his hand upon his wife's head, and would
not allow her to wear a night-cap in consequence. Well, she caught cold
and died, and he never could sleep at night until he took a clothes
brush to bed with him, and laid his hand upon that, which answered the
purpose--such was the force of habit."
"I once saw a dead body galvanised," observed Mr Phillott: "it was the
body of a man who had taken a great deal of snuff during his lifetime,
and, as soon as the battery was applied to his spine, the body very
gently raised its arm, and put its fingers to its nose, as if it were
taking a pinch."
"You saw that yourself, Mr Phillott?" observed the captain, looking the
first lieutenant earnestly in the face.
"Yes, sir," replied Mr Phillott, coolly.
"Have you told that story often?"
"Very often, sir."
"Because I know that some people, by constantly telling a story, at last
believe it to be true; not that I refer to you, Mr Phillott, but still
I should recommend you not to tell that story where you are not well
known, or people may doubt your credibility."
"I make it a rule to believe everything myself," observed Mr Phillott,
"out of politeness; and I expect the same courtesy from others."
"Then, upon my soul! when you tell that story, you trespass very much
upon our good manners. Talking of courtesy, you might meet a friend of
mine, who has been a courtier all his life; he cannot help bowing. I
have seen him bow to his horse, and thank him after he had dismounted--
beg pardon of a puppy for treading on his tail; and one day, when he
fell over a scraper, he took off his hat, and made it a thousand
apologies for his inattention."
"Force of habit again," said O'Brien.
"Exactly so. Mr Simple, will you take a slice of this pork; and
perhaps you'll do me the honour to take a glass of wine? Lord Privilege
would not much admire your dinner to-day, would he, Mr Simple?"
"As a variety he might, sir, but not for a continuance."
"Very truly said. Variety is charming. The negroes here get so tired
of salt fish and occra broth, that they eat dirt by way of a relish.
Mr O'Brien, how remarkably well you played that sonata of Pleydel's
this morning."
"I am happy that I did not annoy you, Captain Kearney, at all events,"
replied O'Brien.
"On the contrary, I am very partial to good music. My mother was a
great performer. I recollect once, she was performing a piece on the
piano, in which she had to imitate a _thunder storm_. So admirably did
she hit it off, that when we went to tea, all the cream was _turned
sour_, as well as three casks of _beer_ in the cellar."
At this assertion Mr Phillott could contain himself no longer; he burst
out into a loud laugh, and having a glass of wine to his lips, spattered
it all over the table, and over me, who unfortunately was opposite to
him.
"I really beg pardon, Captain Kearney, but the idea of such an expensive
talent was too amusing. Will you permit me to ask you a question?--As
there could not have been thunder without lightning, were any people
killed at the same time by the electric fluid of the piano?"
"No, sir," replied Captain Kearney, very angrily; "but her performance
electrified us, which was something like it. Perhaps, Mr Phillott, as
you lost your last glass of wine, you will allow me to take another with
you?"
"With great pleasure," replied the first lieutenant, who perceived that
he had gone far enough.
"Well, gentlemen," said the captain, "we shall soon be in the land of
plenty. I shall cruise a fortnight more, and then join the admiral at
Jamaica. We must make out our despatch relative to the cutting out of
the _Sylvia_" (that was the name of the privateer brig), "and I am happy
to say that I shall feel it my duty to make honourable mention of all
the party present. Steward, coffee."
The first lieutenant, O'Brien, and I, bowed to this flattering avowal on
the part of the captain; as for myself, I felt delighted. The idea of
my name being mentioned in the Gazette, and the pleasure that it would
give to my father and mother, mantled the blood in my cheeks till I was
as red as a turkey-cock.
"_Cousin_ Simple," said the captain, good-naturedly, "you have no
occasion to blush; your conduct deserves it; and you are indebted to Mr
Phillott for having made me acquainted with your gallantry."
Coffee was soon over, and I was glad to leave the cabin and be alone,
that I might compose my perturbed mind. I felt too happy. I did not
however, say a word to my messmates, as it might have created feelings
of envy or ill-will. O'Brien gave me a caution not to do so, when I met
him afterwards, so that I was very glad that I had been so circumspect.