We must now descend to the steerage, where our hero is seated in the
berth, in company with a dozen more (as they designated themselves, from
the extreme heat of their domicile) _perspiring_ young heroes, who were
amusing themselves with crunching hard biscuits, and at the same time a
due proportion of those little animals of the scaribee tribe,
denominated weevils, who had located themselves in the _unleavened
bread_, and which the midshipmen declared to be the only fresh meat
which they had tasted for some time.
Captain M---'s character stood so high at the Admiralty, that the major
part of the young _aspirants_ who had been committed to his charge were
of good family and connections. At that time few of the aristocracy or
gentry ventured to send their sons into the navy; whereas, at present,
none but those classes can obtain admission.
A better school for training young officers could not have been
selected; and the midshipmen's berth of the _Aspasia_ was as superior to
those in other ships, as Captain M--- was himself to the generality of
his contemporary captains in the service. But I cannot pay these young
men the compliment to introduce them one by one, as I did the gun-room
officers. It would be an anomaly unheard of. I shall, therefore, with
every respect for them, describe them just as I want them. It was one
bell after eight o'clock--a bottle of ship's rum, a black jack of putrid
water, and a tin bread-basket, are on the table, which is lighted with a
tallow candle of about thirteen to the pound.
"I say, Mr Jerry Sneak, what are you after there--what are you foraging
for in that locker?" said one of the oldsters of the berth to a
half-starved, weak-looking object of a youngster, whose friends had sent
him to sea with the hopes of improving his stamina.
"What for?--why, for my supper if you must know. D'ye think I _look too
fat_? I stowed it away before I went on deck, that it might not fall
into your ravenous maw."
"Mind your stops, my Jack of the Bonehouse, or I shall shy a biscuit at
your head."
"Do, and prove your bravery; it will be so very courageous. I suppose
you will expect to be gazetted for it."
The youngster who had been dignified with the above sobriquet, and who
made these replies, was certainly a most miserable-looking object, and
looked as if a top-gallant breeze would have blown him to atoms. But if
his body was weak, his tongue was most powerful. He resorted to no
other weapon, and used that skilfully. He was a species of Thersites,
and no dread of punishment could control his railing. He offered no
resistance, but bent down like the reed, and resumed his former position
as soon as the storm was over. His keen and sarcastic remarks, although
they occasionally subjected him to chastisement, to a certain degree
served him as a defence, for he could always raise a laugh at the
expense of the individual whom he attacked, with the formidable weapon
which he had inherited direct from his mother.
The oldster before mentioned put his hand into the breadbasket, and
seized a handful of the biscuit. "Now I'll bet you a glass of grog that
you don't throw a biscuit at my head," cried Jerry, with a sneer.
"Done," replied the oldster, throwing the contents of his hand at Jerry
with all his force.
"I'll just trouble you for that glass of grog, for you've lost," said
the youngster, taking it up from the table where it stood, before the
oldster; "you've only thrown some pieces, and not a biscuit;" and
following up his words with deeds, he swallowed down the whole contents
of the tumbler, which he replaced very coolly before his opponent.
"Fair bet, and fairly lost," cried the rest of the berth, laughing.
"You scarecrow! you're not worth thrashing," said the oldster, angrily.
"Why, that's exactly what I have been trying to impress upon your memory
ever since I have joined the ship. There's no credit to be gained by
licking a half-starved wretch like I am; but there's Bruce, now,"
(pointing to one of the oldsters, between whom and his opponent a
jealousy subsisted), "why don't you lick him? There would be some
credit in that. But you know better than to try it."
"Do I?" retorted the oldster, forgetting himself in the heat of the
moment.
"Yes, you do," replied Bruce, jumping up in defiance; and there was
every appearance of a disturbance, much to the delight of Jerry, who,
provided that they fought, was quite indifferent which party was the
victor. But a fortunate interruption took place, by the appearance of
the master-at-arms.
"Nine o'clock, gentlemen, if you please--the lights must be put out."
"Very well, master-at-arms," replied one of the oldsters.
The master-at-arms took his seat on a chest close to the door of the
berth, aware that a second summons, if not a third, would be requisite,
before his object was obtained. In a few minutes he again put his head
into the berth. "Nine o'clock, gentlemen, if you please. I must report
you to the first-lieutenant."
"Very well, Byfield--it shall be out in a minute."
The master-at-arms resumes his station on the chest outside.
"Why, it's Saturday night," cried Bruce. "Sweethearts and wives, my
boys, though I believe none of us are troubled with the latter.
Forster, pass the rum."
"I'll pass the bottle, and you may make a bull of it, if you choose."
"Confound it, no more grog--and Saturday night. I must drink `Auld lang
syne,' by Heavens."
The master-at-arms again made his appearance. "Gentlemen, you must put
the light out."
"Stop one minute, Byfield. Let us see whether we can get any more rum."
The excuse appeared reasonable to the jack in office, and he
disappeared.
"Boy, tell Billy Pitt I want him."
Billy Pitt had turned in, but was soon roused out of his hammock, and
made his appearance at the berth door, with only his shirt on that he
was sleeping in.
"You want me, Massa Bruce?"
"Billy, my beau, you know everything. We sent for you to tell us what's
the meaning of a repartee?"
"Repartee, sir--repartee!--stop a bit--Eh--I tell you, sir. Suppose you
call me dam nigger--then I call you one dam dirty white-livered son of a
b---; dat a repartee, sir."
"Capital, Billy--you shall be a bishop. But Billy, has your master got
any rum in his cabin?"
"Which massa, sir? Massa Courtenay, or Massa Doctor?"
"Oh! Courtenay, to be sure. The surgeon never has any."
"Yes, sar, I tink he have a little."
"Be quick, Billy; and fetch it. I will give it you back at the tub
to-morrow."
"Suppose you forget, sar, you put me in very fine _predicalament_.
Massa Courtenay look dam blue--no, he not look blue, but he look dam
yellow," replied Billy, showing his white teeth as he grinned.
"But I won't forget, Billy, upon my honour."
"Well, honour quite enough between two gentlemen. I go fetch the
bottle."
Billy soon reappeared with a quart bottle of rum, just as three bells
were struck. "By gad, I rattle the bottle as I take him out--wake Mr
Courtenay--he say, dam black fellow he make everything adrift--cursed
annoying, he say, and go to sleep again."
"Really, gentlemen, I cannot wait any longer," resumed the
master-at-arms; "the lights must be reported or I shall be in disgrace."
"Very true, Byfield; you are only doing your duty. Will you take a
glass of grog?"
"If you please," replied Mr Byfield, taking off his hat, "Your health,
gentlemen."
"Thank you," replied the midshipmen.
"Tank you, SIR," replied also Billy Pitt.
"Well, Billy. What's the last word you read in your dictionary?"
"Last word? Let me see--Oh! commission, sar. You know dat word?"
"Commission! We all know what that is, Billy, and shall be glad to get
it too, by-and-bye."
"Yes, sar; but there are two kind of commission. One you want, obliged
to wait for; one I want, always have at once,--commission as agent,
sar."
"Oh, I understand," replied Bruce; "five per cent on the bottle, eh?"
"Five per cent not make a tiff glass of grog, Massa Bruce."
"Well, then, Billy, you shall have ten per cent," replied the
midshipman, pouring him out a _north-wester_. "Will that do?"
The black had the politeness to drink the health of all the gentlemen of
the berth separately, before he poured the liquor down his throat.
"Massa Bruce, I tink doctor got a little rum in his cabin."
"Go and fetch it, Billy; you shall have it back to-morrow."
"Honour, Mr Bruce."
"Honour, Mr Pitt."
"Ten per cent, Massa Bruce," continued Billy, grinning.
"Ten per cent is the bargain."
"I go see."
Another quart bottle made its appearance; and the agent having received
his commission, made his bow, and returned to his hammock.
"I do--really--think--upon--my--word--that that--black--scoundrel--
would--sell--his--own--mother--for--a--stiff--glass--of--grog," observed
a youngster, of the name of Prose, a cockney, who drawled out his words,
which, "like a wounded snake, dragged their slow length along."
"The lights, gentlemen, if you please," resumed the master-at-arms,
putting his head again into the door.
"Another commission," said Jerry: "a tax upon light. Billy Pitt has the
best right to it."
A second glass of grog was poured out, and the bribe disappeared down
Mr Byfield's gullet.
"Now we'll put the light out," said one of the oldsters, covering the
candlestick with a hat.
"If you will put your candle into my lantern," observed the obsequious
master-at-arms, "I can then report the lights out. Of course you will
allow it to remain there?"
The suggestion was adopted; and the light was reported _out_ to the
first-lieutenant, at the very moment that it was taken _out_ of the
lantern again, and replaced in the candlestick. The duplicate supply
began to have its effect upon our incipient heroes, who commenced
talking _of their friends_. Bruce, a fine manly, honourable Scotchman,
had the peculiarity of always allying himself, when half drunk, to the
royal house who formerly sat upon the throne of England; but, when quite
intoxicated, he was so treasonable as to declare himself the lawful King
of Great Britain. Glass after glass increased his propinquity to the
throne, till at last he seated himself on it, and the uproar of the
whole party rose to that height, that the first-lieutenant sent out,
desiring the midshipmen immediately to retire to their hammocks.
"Send me to bed! `Proud man, dressed in a little brief authority.' If
the Lord's anointed had been respected, he, with millions, would be now
bending the knee to me. Well, if I can't be King of all England, at
least I'll be king in this berth. Tell me," cried Bruce, seizing the
unfortunate Prose by the collar, "am I not king?"
"Why--according--to--the--best--of--my--belief," said Prose, "I--
should--rather--be--inclined--to--think--that--you are--not--the--king."
"Am not, base slave!" cried Bruce, throwing him on the deck, and putting
his foot on his chest.
"No--if--I die for it--I don't care--but if you are--not king--I must
own--that--you--are one of--my thirty tyrants," drawled out Prose, half
suffocated with the pressure.
"I--do--declare," cried Jerry, imitating Prose's drawl, "that--he--has--
squeezed--a pun--out--of--you."
"Am not I king?" resumed Bruce, seizing Jerry, who had advanced within
reach, to laugh at Prose.
"I feel that you ought to be," replied Jerry: "and I don't doubt your
lineal descent: for you have all the dispositions of the race from which
you claim descent. A boon, your gracious majesty," continued Jerry,
bending on one knee.
"Thou shalt have it, my loyal subject," replied Bruce, who was delighted
with the homage, "even (as Ahasuerus said to Esther) to the half of my
kingdom."
"God forbid that I should deprive your majesty of that," replied Jerry,
smiling at the idea of _halving nothing_. "It is only to request that I
may not keep the middle watch to-night."
"Rise, Jerry, you shall not keep a night-watch for a fortnight."
"I humbly thank your most gracious majesty," replied the astute boy, who
was a youngster of the watch of which Bruce was mate.
As the reader may be amused with the result of this promise, he must
know, that Bruce, who did not recollect what had passed, when he
perceived Jerry not to be on deck, sent down for him. The youngster, on
his appearance, claimed his promise; and his claim was allowed by Bruce,
rather than he would acknowledge himself to have been intoxicated.
Jerry, upon the strength of the agreement, continued, for more than the
prescribed time, to sleep in every night-watch, until, aware that he was
no longer safe, he thought of an expedient which would probably insure
him one night longer, and prevent a disagreeable interruption of his
dreams. Prose, whose hammock was hung up next the hatchway, had a bad
cold, and Jerry thought it prudent to shift his berth, that he might not
be found.
"It's the draught from the hatchway that makes your cold so bad, Prose;
you'll never get well while you sleep there. I will give you my inside
berth until it is better--'tis really quite distressing to hear you
cough."
"Well, now, Jerry, that's what I call very good-natured of you. I have
not had such a friendly act done towards me since I joined the ship, and
I do assure you, Jerry, that I shall not be ungrateful--I shall not
forget it."
It happened that, on the very night that Prose exchanged berths with
Jerry, Bruce made his calculation that the fortnight had elapsed three
days back: and although he felt himself bound in honour to keep his
promise, yet feeling rather sore at being over-reached, he now ordered
the quarter-master to cut Jerry's hammock down by the head. This was
supposed to be done, and poor Prose, who had just fallen asleep after
keeping the previous watch, awoke with a stunning sensation, and found
his feet up at the beams and his head on the deck; while Jerry, who had
been awakened by the noise, was obliged to cram the sheets into his
mouth, that his laughter might be unperceived.
"Well, now, I do declare, this is too bad--I most certainly will
complain to the captain, to-morrow morning--as sure as my name is Prose.
Sentry, bring me a light, and assist me to get my hammock up again--I
will not put up with this treatment--I do declare;" and so saying, Prose
once more resumed his position in his precarious dormitory.
But, during our digression, the berth has become empty--some walking,
and others, particularly his majesty, reeling to bed. So we shall close
this chapter, from which the reader may perceive, that, even in the
best-regulated ships, there is more going on in a midshipmen's berth
than a captain is acquainted with, or that comes between Heaven and his
philosophy.