forward. I knew her in an instant to be Grace Goldie, though grown
almost into a young woman. "It is Jack, I am sure it is," she added,
taking my hand and leading me forward. "Oh, how strange that you do not
know him!"
My sisters now came about me, examining me with surprised looks. "How
strange, Grace," said one; "surely you must be mistaken?"
"No, I am sure I am not," answered Grace, looking into my face, and
putting back the hair from my forehead; "Are you not Jack?"
"Yes, I believe I am," I answered, "though if you did not say so I
should begin to doubt the fact, since Ann, and Mary, and Jane, do not
seem to know me."
"Well, I do believe it is Jack," cried Jane, coming up and taking my
other hand, though I was so dirty that she did not, I fancy, like to
kiss me. "So he is--he must be!" cried the others; and now, in spite of
my tattered dress, their sisterly affection got the better of all other
considerations, and they threw their arms about me like kind girls as
they really were, and I returned their salutes, in which Grace Goldie
came in for a share, with long unaccustomed tears in my eyes. Just then
a shriek of astonishment was heard, and there stood Aunt Martha at the
door. "Who have you got there?" she exclaimed. "It's Jack come back,"
answered my sisters and Grace in chorus. "Jack come back! impossible!"
cried out Aunt Martha, in what I thought sounded a tone of dismay.
"Yes, I am Jack, I assure you," I said, going up to her; "and I hope to
be your very dutiful and affectionate nephew, whatever you may once have
thought me;" and I took her hand and raised it to my lips. "If you are
Jack I am glad to see you," she said, her feelings softening; "and it
will at all events be a comfort to your poor mother to know that you are
not drowned."
"My mother! where is she?" I asked. "I trust she is not ill."
"Yes, she is, I am sorry to say, and up-stairs in bed," replied my aunt;
"but I'll go and break the news to her, lest the sound of all this
hubbub should reach her ears, and make her inquire what is the matter."
I had now time to ask about the rest of my family. My father was out,
but was soon expected home, and in the meantime, while Aunt Martha had
gone to tell my mother, by my sisters' advice I went into the bedroom of
one of my brothers, and washed, and dressed myself in his clothes. By
the time Aunt Martha came to look for me I was in a more presentable
condition than when I entered the house.
I need not dwell on my interview with my mother. She had no doubts
about my identity, but drawing me to her, kissed me again and again, as
most mothers would do, I suspect, under similar circumstances. She was
unwilling to let me go, but at length Aunt Martha, suggesting that I
might be hungry, a fact that I could not deny, as I was almost ravenous,
I quickly joined the merry party round the tea-table, when I astonished
them not a little by the number of slices of ham and bread which I
shortly devoured. My father soon arrived. He was not much given to
sentiment, but he wrung my hand warmly, and his mind was evidently
greatly relieved on finding that his plan for breaking me of my desire
for a sea life had not ended by consigning me to a watery grave. He was
considerably astonished, and evidently highly pleased, when I put into
his hands the box and case which old Tom had given into my care; and I
told him how I had fallen in, on board the _Naiad_, with the boy I fully
believed to be Mr Clement Leslie's heir.
"This is indeed strange," he muttered, "very strange, and we must do our
best to find him out Jack. It's a handsome estate, and it will be a
pity if the young fellow is not alive to enjoy it. I must set Simon
Munch to work at once."
"Perhaps if the Russian frigate has returned home, we may learn from her
officers what has become of him," I suggested. "We will think the
matter over. Would you like a trip to Russia, Jack?"
"Above all things, sir," I answered. "I could start to-morrow if it
were necessary;" though I confess I felt very unwilling to run away
again so soon from home, especially as my mother was so ill. Perhaps,
also, Grace Goldie entered somewhat into my considerations.
Next morning while we were at breakfast, and my father was looking over
the newspaper, he exclaimed, "We are in luck, Jack! Did you not say
that the name of the Russian frigate which picked you up was the
_Alexander_? I see that she has just arrived at Spithead, from China
and the Western Pacific. If so, there is not a moment to be lost, for
she will probably be off again in a few days. You must start at once.
Get your sisters to pack up such of your brother's things as will fit
you, and I'll order a post-chaise to the door immediately."
"I shall be ready, sir, directly I have swallowed another egg or two,
and a few more slices of toast," I answered. "Munch must go with you,
that there may be no mistake about the matter," said my father. "He
will be of great assistance."
All seemed like a dream. In a quarter of an hour I was rattling away as
fast as a couple of posters could go, along the road to London. I sat
in a dignified and luxurious manner, feeling myself a person of no
little consequence--remembering that, at the same hour on the previous
day, I had been trudging along the road ragged and hungry, with some
doubt as to the reception I was to meet with at home. My tongue was
kept going all the time, for Munch wished to hear all about my
adventures. "Well, Master Jack, I am glad to have you back," he said.
"To tell the truth, my conscience was a little uncomfortable at the part
I had taken in shipping you off on board the collier, though I might
have known,"--he cast a quizzical look at me--"that those are never
drowned who are--"
"Born to end their lives comfortably in bed," I added, interrupting him.
"You needn't finish the sentence in the way you were about to do; I was
never much of a favourite of yours, Mr Munch, I know."
"I hope we shall be better friends in future, Master Jack," he remarked.
"You used, you know, to try my temper not a little sometimes."
As the old clerk was accustomed to long and sudden journeys, we stopped
nowhere, except for a few minutes to get refreshments, till we rattled
up to the George Inn at Portsmouth.
Much to our satisfaction, we heard from the waiter that the Russian
frigate was still at Spithead, and as the weather was fine, we hurried
down the High Street, intending at once to engage a wherry and go off to
her. As we reached the point a man-of-war's boat pulled up, and several
officers stepped on shore. "That is not the English uniform," observed
Munch; "perhaps they have come from the Russian frigate." He was right,
I was sure, for I thought that I recognised the countenances of several
I had known on board the _Alexander_. Among them was a tall, slight
young man, dressed as a sub-lieutenant. I looked at him earnestly,
scanning his features. It might be Clement, yet I should not under
other circumstances have thought it possible. The young man stopped,
observing the way I was regarding him, and I began to doubt that he
could be Clement, as he did not appear to know me. I could bear the
uncertainty no longer, so, walking up to him, I said, "I am Happy Jack!
Don't you know me?" His whole countenance lighted up. With a cry of
pleasure he seized both my hands, gazing earnestly in my face. "Jack,
my dear fellow, Jack!" he exclaimed. "You alive, and here! Happy you
may be, but not so happy as I am to see you. I mourned you as lost, for
I could not hope that you had escaped a second time." His surprise was
great indeed when I told him I came especially to search for him, and we
at once agreed to repair to the "George," that I might give him the
important information I had to afford, and settle, with the aid of Mr
Munch, what course it would be advisable for him to pursue.
He was overwhelmed, as may be supposed, with astonishment and
thankfulness when I told him of the wonderful way in which I had become
possessed of the title-deeds and jewels, which would, I hoped, establish
his claims to a fair estate.
This matter occupied some time. "With regard to quitting the ship," he
observed, "there will, I trust, be no difficulty. I am but a
supernumerary on board, and as I could not regularly enter the service
till the frigate returned to Russia, the captain will be able to give me
my discharge when I explain the circumstances in which I am placed."
Having settled our plans, Mr Munch and I went on board with Clement.
The captain at once agreed to what Clement wished, though he expressed
his regret at losing him. My friend the doctor recognised me, and
treated me, as did several of the other officers, with much kindness and
politeness. I was, however, too anxious to get Clement home to accept
their courtesy, and the next morning we were again on the road
northward.
Clement had studied hard while on board the Russian frigate, and had
become a polished and gentlemanly young man, in every way qualified for
the position he was destined to hold. He was made not a little of by my
family, and though at one time I felt a touch of jealousy at the
preference I fancied he showed to Grace Goldie, he soon relieved my
fears by telling me that he hoped to become the husband of one of my
sisters.
My father, after a considerable amount of labour, proved his identity
with the son of Mr Clement Leslie, who perished with his wife at sea,
and established his claims to the property.
I had had quite enough of a "life on the ocean wave," and though I had
no great fancy for working all day at a desk, I agreed to enter my
father's office and tackle to in earnest, my incentive to labour, I
confess, being the hope of one day becoming the husband of Grace Goldie.
We married, and I have every reason still to call myself "Happy Jack."
CHAPTER NINE.
THE "SAN FIORENZO" AND HER CAPTAIN.
NARRATED BY ADMIRAL M--.
There was not a happier ship in the service, when I joined her towards
the end of the year 1794, than the gallant _San Fiorenzo_, Captain Sir
Harry Burrard Neale, and those were not days when ships were reckoned
little paradises afloat, even by enthusiastic misses or sanguine young
midshipmen. They were generally quite the other thing.
The crews of many ships found it that other thing, and the officers, of
course, found it so likewise. If the men are not contented, the
officers must be uncomfortable; and, at the same time, I will say, from
my experience, that when a ship gained the title of a hell-afloat, it
was always in consequence of the officers not knowing their duty, or not
doing it. Pride, arrogance, and an utter disregard for the feelings of
those beneath them in rank, was too prevalent among the officers of the
service, and was the secret of the calamitous events which occasionally
happened about that time.
My noble commander was not such an one as those of whom I have spoken.
There were some like him, but not many his equals. I may truly say of
him "that he belonged to the race of admirals of which the navy of Old
England has a right to be proud; that he was a perfect seaman, and a
perfect gentleman."
"He was one of the most humane, brave, and zealous commanders that ever
trod a deck, to whom every man under him looked up as a father." I was
with him for many, very many years--from my boyish days to manhood,--and
I may safely say that I never saw him in a passion, or even out of
temper, though I have seen him indignant; and never more so than when
merit--the merit of the junior officers of the service--has been
overlooked or disregarded. I never heard him utter an oath, and I
believe firmly that he never allowed one to escape his lips. I will say
of him what I dare say of few men, that, in the whole course of his
life, he was never guilty of an act unworthy of the character of a
Christian and a gentleman. I was with him when his career was run--
when, living in private on his own estate, the brave old sailor, who had
ever kept himself unspotted from the world, spent his days in "visiting
the fatherless and widows in their affliction"--walking from cottage to
cottage, with his basket of provisions or medicines, or books, where the
first were not required.
Genuine were the tears shed on his grave, and hearty was the response as
the following band gave forth the air of "The Fine Old English
Gentleman, all of the Olden Time!"
And now, on the borders of his estate, visible afar over the Solent Sea,
there stands a monument, raised by his sovereign and by those who knew
and loved him well, all eager to add their testimony to his worth. But
yet he lives in the heart of many a seaman, and will live while one
remains who served under his command. But, avast! whither am I driving?
My feelings have carried me away.
Note: The "Solent Sea" is the name of the channel between the Isle of
Wight and the mainland.
After what I have said, it is not surprising that the _San Fiorenzo_
should have been a happy ship. Her captain made her so. From the
highest to the lowest, all trusted him; all knew that he had their
interest at heart--all loved him. The _San Fiorenzo_ might have been a
happy ship under an inferior commander--that is possible; but I doubt
very much whether her crew would have done what they did do under any
officer not possessed of those high qualities for which Sir Harry was so
eminently distinguished. The _San Fiorenzo_ was highly honoured, for
she was the favourite ship, or rather, Sir Harry was the favourite
captain of His Majesty George the Third, who, let people say what they
will of him, was truly the sailors' friend, and wished to be his
subjects' friend, as far as he had the power. Sir Harry was a
favourite, not because he was a flatterer, but because the King knew him
to be an honest man.
George the Third, as is well known, was very fond of spending the summer
months at Weymouth, whence he could easily put to sea in his yacht, or
on board a man-of-war, placed at his disposal. He seemed never to tire
of sailing, especially with Sir Harry.
Whist was the constant game in the royal cabins. Sir Harry, who did
everything as well as he could, though far from a good player, often
beat the King, who was an indifferent one. Lord A--, a practised
courtier, was, on the contrary, a remarkably good one, and generally
beat Sir Harry. When, however, Lord A--played with the King, His
Majesty always came off victorious. The King used to pretend to be
exceedingly puzzled.
"It's very odd--very odd. I beat Lord A--, Lord A--beats Sir Harry, and
Sir Harry beats me. How can it be--how can it be?"
The King was always anxious to stand out to sea, so as to lose sight of
land. This, however, was too dangerous an amusement to allow him. Sir
Harry's plan was to put the ship's head off-shore, and to make all sail.
This satisfied the King, who was then easily persuaded to go below to
luncheon, dinner, or tea, or to indulge in his favourite game. Sail was
soon again quietly shortened, and the ship headed in for the shore.
Sometimes the King seemed rather surprised that we should have made the
land again so soon; but whether or not he suspected a trick, I cannot
say. His only remark was, "All right, Sir Harry; you are always right."
It was impossible for a monarch to be more condescending and affable
than was the good old King to all on board. He used to go among the
men, and talk to them in the most familiar way, inquiring about their
adventures and family histories, and evidently showing a sympathy with
their feelings and ideas. Did they love the old King? Ay, there was
not a man of them who would not gladly have died for him. It was the
same with the midshipmen and officers. He used to delight in calling up
us youngsters, and would chat with us as familiarly as would any private
gentleman. He showed his real disposition, when able thus to cast aside
the cares of state, and to give way to the kindly feelings of his heart.
I say again, in that respect the King and his captain were worthy of
each other. The following anecdote will prove it:--
We had gone to Portsmouth, leaving the King at Weymouth, and were
returning through the Needles, when, as we got off Poole harbour, a
small boat, with three people in her, was seen a little on the starboard
bow. One man was rowing, the other two persons were beckoning,
evidently towards the ship. As we drew near, we saw, through our
glasses, that the two people were an old man and woman, and, as we
appeared to be passing them, their gestures became more and more
vehement. Many captains would have laughed, or taken no notice of the
old people. Not so Sir Harry--he had a feeling for everyone. Ordering
the ship to be hove-to, he allowed the boat to come alongside.
"Oh, captain, is our ain bairn Davie on board?" shouted the old people,
in chorus.
Sir Harry, with the benignant smile his countenance so often wore,
directed that they might be assisted up the side.
"Who is it you want, good people?" he asked, as soon as their feet were
safely planted on the deck, where they stood, gazing round with
astonished countenances.
"Our ain son, Davie--David Campbell, sir," was again the reply.
"Is there any man of that name on board?" inquired Sir Harry. "Let him
be called aft."
A stout lad soon made his appearance, and was immediately pressed in the
old people's arms. This son was a truant, long absent from his home.
At length, grown weary at delay, quitting their abode near Edinburgh,
they had travelled south, inquiring at every port for their lost son,
and only that morning had they arrived by waggon at Poole, believing
that it was a port where men-of-war were to be found. A boatman, for
the sake of a freight, had persuaded them to come off with him, pointing
out the ship which was then coming out through the Needles.
Sir Harry was so pleased with the perseverance and affection which the
old couple had exhibited, that he took them on to Weymouth, when the
story was told to the King. His Majesty had them presented to him, and
he and Queen Charlotte paid them all sorts of attention, and at length,
after they had spent some weeks with their son, dismissed them, highly
gratified, to their home in the North.
Queen Charlotte was as good a woman as ever lived, and, in her way, was
as kind and affable as was the King. She had a quaint humour about her,
too, which frequently exhibited itself, in spite of the somewhat painful
formality of the usual court circle. As an example--Sir Harry had had a
present of bottled green peas made to him the previous year, and,
looking on them as a great rarity, he had kept them to be placed on the
table before his royal guests. As he knew more about ploughing the
ocean than ploughing the land, and affairs nautical than horticultural,
it did not occur to him that fresh green peas were to be obtained on
shore. The bottled green peas were therefore proudly produced on the
first opportunity.
"Your Majesty," said Sir Harry, as the Queen was served, "those green
peas have been kept a whole year."
The Queen made no reply till she had eaten a few, and sent several
flying off from the prongs of her fork. Then, nodding with a smile, she
quietly said, "So I did tink."
To the end of his days, Sir Harry used to laugh over the story, adding,
"Sure enough, they were very green; but as hard as swan-shot."
But I undertook to narrate a circumstance which exhibited Sir Harry
Burrard Neale's character in its true colours. I need not enter into an
account of that painful event, the Mutiny of the British Fleet. It
broke out first at Spithead, on the 15th April, 1797, on board Lord
Bridport's flag-ship, the _Royal George_; the crews of the other ships
of the fleet following the example thus set them. The men, there can be
no doubt, had very considerable grievances of which to complain; nor can
it be well explained how, in those days, they could by legal means have
had them redressed. One thing only is certain, mutiny was not the
proper way of proceeding. We were at Spithead, and not an officer in
the fleet knew what was about to occur, when, on the 14th, two of our
men desired to speak with the captain, and then gave him the astounding
intelligence that the ships' companies of the whole fleet had bound
themselves to make certain important demands, and which, if not granted,
that they would refuse to put to sea. The two men--they were
quartermasters--moreover, stated that they had themselves been chosen
delegates to represent the ship's company of the _San Fiorenzo_, by the
rest of the fleet, but that they could assure him that all the men would
prove true and loyal, and would obey their officers as far as was
consistent with prudence.
Sir Harry thanked them, assuring them, in return, that he would trust
them thoroughly. He, however, scarcely believed at that time the extent
to which the mischief had gone. The next day evidence was given of the
wide spread of the disaffection. Affairs day after day grew worse and
worse; and although some of the superior officers acted with great
judgment and moderation, others very nearly drove matters to the
greatest extremity.
Meantime, the delegates of the _San Fiorenzo_ attended the meetings of
the mutineers, and, though at the imminent risk of their lives,
regularly brought Sir Harry information of all that occurred. He
transmitted it to the Admiralty, and it was chiefly through his
representations and advice that conciliatory measures were adopted by
the Government. Nearly all the just demands of the seamen having been
granted, they returned to their duty, and it was supposed that the
mutiny was at an end. Just before this, the Princess Royal had married
the Duke of Wirtemberg, and the _San Fiorenzo_ had been appointed to
carry Her Royal Highness over to Cuxhaven. We could not, however, move
without permission from the delegates. This was granted. Our
upper-deck guns were stowed below, and the larger portion of the
upper-deck fitted with cabins. In this condition, when arriving at
Sheerness, we found to our surprise that the red flag was still flying
on board the guardship, the _Sandwich_. Supposing that her crew had not
been informed of what had taken place at Spithead, Sir Harry sent our
delegates on board her, that they might explain the real state of
affairs. The disgust of our men was very great when they were informed
that fresh demands had been made by the crews of the North Sea fleet, of
so frivolous a nature that it was not probable they would be granted.
Our men, in spite of the character of delegates, which had been forced
on them, could not help showing their indignation, and expressing
themselves in no very courteous terms. This showed the mutineers that
they were not over-zealous in their cause, and our people were warned
that, should they prove treacherous, they and their ship would be sent
to the bottom.