A long conversation with Mr Chucks--The advantage of having a
prayer-book in your pocket--We run down the trades--Swinburne, the
quartermaster, and his yarns--The Captain falls sick.
The next day the captain came on board with sealed orders, with
directions not to open them until off Ushant. In the afternoon, we
weighed and made sail. It was a fine northerly wind, and the Bay of
Biscay was smooth. We bore up, set all the studding-sails, and ran along
at the rate of eleven miles an hour. As I could not appear on the
quarter-deck, I was put down on the sick-list. Captain Savage, who was
very particular, asked what was the matter with me. The surgeon replied,
"An inflamed eye." The captain asked no more questions; and I took care
to keep out of his way. I walked in the evening on the forecastle, when
I renewed my intimacy with Mr Chucks, the boatswain, to whom I gave a
full narrative of all my adventures in France. "I have been ruminating,
Mr Simple," said he, "how such a stripling as you could have gone
through so much fatigue, and now I know how it is. It is _blood_, Mr
Simple--all blood--you are descended from good blood; and there's as
much difference between nobility and the lower classes, as there is
between a racer and a cart-horse."
"I cannot agree with you, Mr Chucks. Common people are quite as brave as
those who are well-born. You do not mean to say that you are not brave--
that the seamen on board this ship are not brave?"
"No, no, Mr Simple; but as I observed about myself, my mother was a
woman who could not be trusted, and there is no saying who was my
father; and she was a very pretty woman to boot, which levels all
distinctions for the moment. As for the seamen, God knows, I should do
them an injustice if I did not acknowledge that they were as brave as
lions. But there are two kinds of bravery, Mr Simple--the bravery of the
moment, and the courage of bearing up for a long while. Do you
understand me?"
"I think I do; but still do not agree with you. Who will bear more
fatigue than our sailors?"
"Yes, yes, Mr Simple, that is because they are _endured_ to it from
their hard life: but if the common sailors were all such little
thread-papers as you, and had been brought up so carefully, they would
not have gone through all you have. That's my opinion, Mr Simple--
there's nothing like _blood_."
"I think, Mr Chucks, you carry your ideas on that subject too far."
"I do not, Mr Simple; and I think, moreover, that he who has more to
lose than another will always strive more. Now a common man only fights
for his own credit; but when a man is descended from a long line of
people famous in history, and has a coat _in_ arms, criss-crossed, and
stuck all over with lions and unicorns to support the dignity of--why,
has he not to fight for the credit of all his ancestors, whose names
would be disgraced if he didn't behave well?"
"I agree with you, Mr Chucks, in the latter remark, to a certain
extent."
"Ah! Mr Simple, we never know the value of good descent when we have it,
but it's when we cannot get it that we can _'preciate_ it. I wish I had
been born a nobleman--I do, by heavens!" and Mr Chucks slapped his fist
against the funnel, so as to make it ring again. "Well, Mr Simple,"
continued he, after a pause, "it is, however, a great comfort to me that
I have parted company with that fool, Mr Muddle, with his twenty-six
thousand and odd years, and that old woman, Dispart, the gunner. You
don't know how those two men used to fret me; it was very silly, but I
couldn't help it. Now the warrant officers of this ship appear to be
very respectable, quiet men, who know their duty and attend to it, and
are not too familiar, which I hate and detest. You went home to your
friends, of course, when you arrived in England?"
"I did, Mr Chucks, and spent some days with my grandfather, Lord
Privilege, whom you say you once met at dinner."
"Well, and how was the old gentleman?" inquired the boatswain, with a
sigh.
"Very well, considering his age."
"Now do, pray, Mr Simple, tell me all about it; from the time that the
servants met you at the door until you went away. Describe to me the
house and all the rooms, for I like to hear of all these things,
although I can never see them again."
To please Mr Chucks, I entered into a full detail, which he listened to
very attentively, until it was late, and then with difficulty would he
permit me to leave off, and go down to my hammock. The next day, rather
a singular circumstance occurred. One of the midshipmen was mast-headed
by the second lieutenant, for not waiting on deck until he was relieved.
He was down below when he was sent for, and expecting to be punished
from what the quarter-master told him, he thrust the first book into his
jacket-pocket which he could lay his hand on, to amuse himself at the
mast-head, and then ran on deck. As he surmised, he was immediately
ordered aloft. He had not been there more than five minutes, when a
sudden squall carried away the main-top-gallant mast, and away he went
flying over to leeward (for the wind had shifted, and the yards were now
braced up). Had he gone overboard, as he could not swim, he would, in
all probability, have been drowned; but the book in his pocket brought
him up in the jaws of the fore-brace block, where he hung until taken
out by the main-topmen. Now it so happened that it was a prayer-book
which he had laid hold of in his hurry, and those who were superstitious
declared it was all owing to his having taken a religious book with him.
I did not think so, as any other book would have answered the purpose
quite as well: still the midshipman himself thought so, and it was
productive of good, as he was a sad scamp, and behaved much better
afterwards. But I had nearly forgotten to mention a circumstance which
occurred on the day of our sailing, which will be eventually found to
have had a great influence upon my after life. It was this. I received a
letter from my father, evidently written in great vexation and
annoyance, informing me that my uncle, whose wife I have already
mentioned had two daughters, and was again expected to be confined, had
suddenly broken up his housekeeping, discharged every servant, and
proceeded to Ireland under an assumed name. No reason had been given for
this unaccountable proceeding; and not even my grandfather, or any of
the members of the family, had had notice of his intention. Indeed, it
was by mere accident that his departure was discovered, about a
fortnight after it had taken place. My father had taken a great deal of
pains to find out where he was residing; but although my uncle was
traced to Cork, from that town all clue was lost, but still it was
supposed, from inquiries, that he was not very far from thence. "Now,"
observed my father, in his letter, "I cannot help surmising, that my
brother, in his anxiety to retain the advantages of the title to his own
family, has resolved to produce to the world a spurious child as his
own, by some contrivance or other. His wife's health is very bad, and
she is not likely to have a large family. Should the one now expected
prove a daughter, there is little chance of his ever having another; and
I have no hesitation in declaring my conviction that the measure has
been taken with a view of defrauding you of your chance of eventually
being called to the House of Lords."
I showed this letter to O'Brien, who, after reading it over two or three
times, gave his opinion that my father was right in his conjectures
"Depend upon it, Peter, there's foul play intended, that is, if foul
play is rendered necessary."
"But, O'Brien, I cannot imagine why, if my uncle has no son of his own,
he should prefer acknowledging a son of any other person's, instead of
his own nephew."
"But I can, Peter: your uncle is not a man likely to live very long, as
you know. The doctors say that, with his short neck, his life is not
worth two years' purchase. Now if he had a son, consider that his
daughters would be much better off, and much more likely to get married;
besides, there are many reasons which I won't talk about now, because
it's no use making you think your uncle to be a scoundrel. But I'll tell
you what I'll do. I'll go down to my cabin directly, and write to Father
M'Grath, telling him the whole affair, and desiring him to ferret him
out, and watch him narrowly, and I'll bet you a dozen of claret, that in
less than a week he'll find him out, and will dog him to the last. He'll
get hold of his Irish servants, and you little know the power that a
priest has in our country. Now give the description as well as you can
of your uncle's appearance, also of that of his wife, and the number of
their family, and their ages. Father M'Grath must have all particulars,
and then let him alone for doing what is needful."
I complied with O'Brien's directions as well as I could, and he wrote a
very long letter to Father M'Grath, which was sent on shore by a careful
hand. I answered my father's letter, and then thought no more about the
matter.
Our sealed orders were opened, and proved our destination to be the West
Indies, as we expected. We touched at Madeira to take in some wine for
the ship's company; but as we only remained one day, we were not
permitted to go on shore. Fortunate indeed would it have been if we had
never gone there; for the day after, our captain, who had dined with the
consul, was taken alarmingly ill. From the symptoms, the surgeon dreaded
that he had been poisoned by something which he had eaten, and which
most probably had been cooked in a copper vessel not properly tinned. We
were all very anxious that he should recover; but, on the contrary, he
appeared to grow worse and worse every day, wasting away, and dying, as
they say, by inches. At last he was put into his cot, and never rose
from it again. This melancholy circumstance, added to the knowledge that
we were proceeding to an unhealthy climate, caused a gloom throughout
the ship; and, although the trade wind carried us along bounding over
the bright blue sea--although the weather was now warm, yet not too
warm--although the sun rose in splendour, and all was beautiful and
cheering, the state of the captain's health was a check to all mirth.
Every one trod the deck softly, and spoke in a low voice, that he might
not be disturbed; all were anxious to have the morning report of the
surgeon, and our conversation was generally upon the sickly climate, the
yellow fever, of death, and the palisades where they buried us.
Swinburne, the quarter-master, was in my watch, and as he had been long
in the West Indies, I used to obtain all the information from him that I
could. The old fellow had a secret pleasure in frightening me as much
as he could. "Really, Mr Simple, you ax so many questions," he would
say, as I accosted him while he was at his station at the _conn_, "I
wish you wouldn't ax so many questions, and make yourself uncomfortable
--'steady so'--'steady it is;'--with regard to Yellow Jack, as we calls
the yellow fever, it's a devil incarnate, that's sartain--you're well
and able to take your allowance in the morning, and dead as a herring
'fore night. First comes a bit of a head-ache--you goes to the doctor,
who bleeds you like a pig--then you go out of your senses--then up comes
the black vomit, and then it's all over with you, and you go to the land
crabs, who pick your bones as clean and as white as a sea elephant's
tooth. But there be one thing to be said in favour of Yellow Jack, a'ter
all. You dies _straight,_ like a gentleman--not cribbled up like a
snow-fish, chucked out on the ice of the river St Lawrence, with your
knees up to your nose, or your toes stuck into your arm-pits, as does
take place in some of your foreign complaints; but straight, quite
straight, and limber, like a _gentleman_. Still Jack is a little
mischievous, that's sartain. In the Euridiscy we had as fine a ship's
company as was ever piped aloft--'Steady, starboard, my man, you're
half-a-pint off your course;'--we dropped our anchor in Port Royal, and
we thought that there was mischief brewing, for thirty-eight sharks
followed the ship into the harbour, and played about us day and night. I
used to watch them during the night watch, as their fins, above water,
skimmed along, leaving a trail of light behind them; and the second
night I said to the sentry abaft, as I was looking at them smelling
under the counter--'Soldier,' says I, 'them sharks are mustering under
the orders of Yellow Jack,' and I no sooner mentioned Yellow Jack, than
the sharks gave a frisky plunge, every one of them, as much as to say,
'Yes, so we are, d----n your eyes.' The soldier was so frightened that
he would have fallen overboard, if I hadn't caught him by the scruff of
the neck, for he was standing on the top of the taffrail. As it was, he
dropped his musket over the stern, which the sharks dashed at from every
quarter, making the sea look like fire--and he had it charged to his
wages, £1 16s. I think. However, the fate of his musket gave him an idea
of what would have happened to him if he had fallen in instead of it--
and he never got on the taffrail again. 'Steady, port--mind your helm,
Smith--you can listen to my yarn all the same.' Well, Mr Simple, Yellow
Jack came, sure enough. First the purser was called to account for all
his roguery. We didn't care much about the land crabs eating him, who
had made so many poor dead men chew tobacco, cheating their wives and
relations, or Greenwich Hospital, as it might happen. Then went two of
the middies, just about your age, Mr Simple: they, poor fellows, went
off in a sad hurry; then went the master--and so it went on, till at
last we had no more nor sixty men left in the ship. The captain died
last, and then Yellow Jack had filled his maw, and left the rest of us
alone. As soon as the captain died, all the sharks left the ship, and we
never saw any more of them."
Such were the yarns told to me and the other midshipmen during the night
watches; and I can assure the reader, that they gave us no small alarm.
Every day that we worked our day's work, and found ourselves so much
nearer to the islands, did we feel as if we were so much nearer to our
graves. I once spoke to O'Brien about it, and he laughed. "Peter," says
he, "fear kills more people than the yellow fever, or any other
complaint, in the West Indies. Swinburne is an old rogue, and only
laughing at you. The devil's not half so black as he's painted--nor the
yellow fever half so yellow, I presume." We were now fast nearing the
island of Barbadoes, the weather was beautiful, the wind always fair;
the flying fish rose in shoals, startled by the foaming seas, which
rolled away, and roared from the bows as our swift frigate cleaved
through the water; the porpoises played about us in thousands--the
bonetas and dolphins at one time chased the flying fish, and at others,
appeared to be delighted in keeping company with the rapid vessel.
Everything was beautiful, and we all should have been happy, had it not
been for the state of Captain Savage, in the first place, who daily
became worse and worse, and from the dread of the hell, which we were
about to enter through such a watery paradise. Mr Falcon, who was in
command, was grave and thoughtful; he appeared indeed to be quite
miserable at the chance which would insure his own promotion. In every
attention, and every care that could be taken to insure quiet and afford
relief to the captain, he was unremitting; the offence of making a noise
was now, with him, a greater crime than drunkenness, or even mutiny.
When within three days' sail of Barbadoes, it fell almost calm, and the
captain became much worse; and now for the first time did we behold the
great white shark of the Atlantic. There are several kinds of sharks,
but the most dangerous are the great white shark and the ground shark.
The former grows to an enormous length--the latter is seldom very long,
not more than twelve feet, but spreads to a great breadth. We could not
hook the sharks as they played around us, for Mr Falcon would not permit
it, lest the noise of hauling them on board should disturb the captain.
A breeze again sprang up. In two days we were close to the island, and
the men were desired to look out for the land.