"Now, you'll observe, Peter," said O'Brien, after I had read the letter,

"that, as I supposed, your uncle meant mischief when he went over to

Ireland. Whether the children are both boys or both girls, or your

uncle's is a boy, and the other is a girl, there is no knowing at

present. If an exchange was required, it's made, that's certain; but I

will write again to Father M'Grath, and insist upon his finding out the

truth, if possible. Have you any letter from your father?"

"None, I am sorry to say. I wish I had, for he would not have failed to

speak on the subject."

"Well, never mind, it's no use dreaming over the matter; we must do our

best when we get to England ourselves, and in the meantime trust to

Father M'Grath. I'll go and write to him while my mind's full of it."

O'Brien wrote his letter, and the subject was not started again.

Chapter XXXVII

Captain Kearney's illness--He makes his will, and devises sundry

châteaux en Espagne for the benefit of those concerned--The legacy duty

in this instance not ruinous--He signs, seals, and dies.

The captain, as was his custom, went on shore, and took up his quarters

at a friend's house; that is to say, the house of an acquaintance, or

any polite gentleman who would ask him to take a dinner and a bed. This

was quite sufficient for Captain Kearney, who would fill his

portmanteau, and take up his quarters, without thinking of leaving them

until the ship sailed, or some more advantageous invitation was given.

This conduct in England would have very much trespassed on our ideas of

hospitality; but in our foreign settlements and colonies, where the

society is confined and novelty is desirable, a person who could amuse

like Captain Kearney was generally welcome, let him stay as long as he

pleased. All sailors agree in asserting that Halifax is one of the most

delightful ports in which a ship can anchor. Everybody is hospitable,

cheerful, and willing to amuse and be amused. It is, therefore, a very

bad place to send a ship to if you wish her to refit in a hurry; unless,

indeed, the admiral is there to watch over your daily progress, and a

sharp commissioner to expedite your motions in the dockyard. The admiral

was there when we arrived, and we should not have lain there long, had

not the health of Captain Kearney, by the time that we were ready for

sea, been so seriously affected, that the doctor was of opinion that he

could not sail. Another frigate was sent to our intended

cruising-ground, and we lay idle in port. But we consoled ourselves: if

we did not make prize-money, at all events, we were very happy, and the

major part of the officers very much in love.

We had remained in Halifax harbour about three weeks, when a very great

change for the worse took place in Captain Kearney's disease. Disease,

indeed, it could hardly be called. He had been long suffering from the

insidious attacks of a hot climate, and though repeatedly advised to

invalid, he never would consent. His constitution appeared now to be

breaking up. In a few days he was so ill, that, at the request of the

naval surgeons, he consented to be removed to the hospital, where he

could command more comforts than in any private house. He had not been

at the hospital more than two days, when he sent for me, and stated his

wish that I should remain with him. "You know, Peter, that you are a

cousin of mine, and one likes to have one's relations near one when we

are sick, so bring your traps on shore. The doctor has promised me a

nice little room for yourself, and you shall come and sit with me all

day." I certainly had no objection to remain with him, because I

considered it my duty so to do, and I must say that there was no

occasion for me to make any effort to entertain him, as he always

entertained me; but I could not help seriously reflecting, and feeling

much shocked, at a man, lying in so dangerous a state--for the doctors

had pronounced his recovery to be impossible--still continuing a system

of falsehood during the whole day, without intermission. But it really

appeared in him to be innate; and, as Swinburne said, "if he told truth,

it was entirely by mistake."

"Peter," said he, one day, "there's a great draught. Shut the door, and

put on some more coals."

"The fire does not draw well, sir," replied I, "without the door is

open."

"It's astonishing how little people understand the nature of these

things. When I built my house, called Walcot Abbey, there was not a

chimney would draw; I sent for the architect and abused him, but he

could not manage it: I was obliged to do it myself."

"Did you manage it, sir?"

"Manage it--I think I did. The first time I lighted the fire, I opened

the door, and the draught was so great, that my little boy, William, who

was standing in the current of air, would have gone right up the

chimney, if I had not caught him by the petticoats; as it was, his frock

was on fire."

"Why sir, it must have been as bad as a hurricane!"

"No, no, not quite so bad--but it showed what a little knowledge of

philosophical arrangement could effect. We have no hurricanes in

England, Peter; but I have seen a very pretty whirlwind when I was at

Walcot Abbey."

"Indeed, sir."

"Yes; it cut four square haystacks quite round, and I lost twenty tons

of hay; it twisted the iron lamp-post at the entrance just as a porpoise

twists a harpoon, and took up a sow and her litter of pigs, that were

about a hundred yards from the back of the house, and landed them safe

over the house to the front, with the exception of the old sow putting

her shoulder out."

"Indeed, sir."

"Yes, but what was strange, there were a great many rats in the hayrick,

and up they went with the hay. Now, Peter, by the laws of gravitation,

they naturally come down before the hay, and I was walking with my

greyhound, or rather terrier, and after one coming down close to her,

which she killed, it was quite ridiculous to witness her looking up in

the air, and watching for the others."

"A greyhound did you say, sir, or a terrier?"

"Both, Peter; the fact is, she had been a greyhound, but breaking her

foreleg against a stump, when coursing, I had the other three amputated

as well, and then she made a capital terrier. She was a great favourite

of mine."

"Well," observed I, "I have read something like that in Baron

Munchausen."

"Mr Simple," said the captain, turning on his elbow and looking me

severely in the face, "what do you mean to imply?"

"Oh, nothing, sir, but I have read a story of that kind."

"Most probably; the great art of invention is to found it upon facts.

There are some people who out of a mole-hill will make a mountain; and

facts and fiction become so blended nowadays, that even truth becomes a

matter of doubt."

"Very true, sir," replied I; and as he did not speak for some minutes, I

ventured to bring my Bible to his bedside, as if I was reading it to

myself.

"What are you reading, Peter?" said he.

"Only a chapter in the Bible, sir," said I. "Would you like that I

should read aloud?"

"Yes, I'm very fond of the Bible--it's the book of _truth_. Peter, read

me about Jacob, and his weathering Esau with a mess of pottage, and

obtaining his father's blessing." I could not help thinking it singular

that he should select a portion in which, for divine reasons, a lie was

crowned with success and reward.

When I had finished it, he asked me to read something more; I turned

over to the Acts of the Apostles, and commenced the chapter in which

Ananias and Sapphira were struck dead. When I had finished, he observed

very seriously, "That is a very good lesson for young people, Peter, and

points out that you never should swerve from the truth. Recollect, as

your motto, Peter, to 'tell truth and shame the devil.'"

After this observation I laid down the book, as it appeared to me that

he was quite unaware of his propensity; and without a sense of your

fault, how can repentance and amendment be expected? He became more

feeble and exhausted every day, and, at last, was so weak that he could

scarcely raise himself in his bed. One afternoon he said, "Peter, I

shall make my will, not that I am going to kick the bucket just yet; but

still it is every man's duty to set his house in order, and it will

amuse me; so fetch pen and paper, and come and sit down by me."

I did as he requested.

"Write, Peter, that I, Anthony George William Charles Huskisson Kearney

(my father's name was Anthony, Peter; I was christened George, after the

present Regent, William and Charles after Mr Pitt and Mr Fox, who were

my sponsors; Huskisson is the name of my great uncle, whose property

devolves to me; he's eighty-three now, so he can't last long)--have you

written down that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Being in sound mind, do hereby make my last will and testament,

revoking all former wills."

"Yes, sir."

"I bequeath to my dearly beloved wife, Augusta Charlotte Kearney (she

was named after the Queen and Princess Augusta, who held her at the

baptismal font), all my household furniture, books, pictures, plate, and

houses, for her own free use and will, and to dispose of at her pleasure

upon her demise. Is that down?"

"Yes, sir."

"Also, the interest of all my money in the three percents, reduced, and

in the long annuities, and the balance in my agent's hands, for her

natural life. At her death to be divided into equal portions between my

two children, William Mohamed Potemkin Kearney, and Caroline Anastasia

Kearney. Is that down?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, then, Peter, now for my real property. My estate in Kent (let me

see, what is the name of it?)--Walcot Abbey, my three farms in the Vale

of Aylesbury, and the marsh lands in Norfolk, I bequeath to my two

children aforenamed, the proceeds of the same to be laid up, deducting

all necessary expenses for their education, for their sole use and

benefit. Is that down?"

"Not yet, sir--'use and benefit.' Now it is, sir."

"Until they come to the age of twenty-one years; or in case of my

daughter, until she marries with the consent of my executors, then to be

equally and fairly valued and divided between them. You observe, Peter,

I never make any difference between girls and boys--a good father will

leave one child as much as another. Now, I'll take my breath a little."

I was really astonished. It was well known that Captain Kearney had

nothing but his pay, and that it was the hopes of prize-money to support

his family, which had induced him to stay out so long in the West

Indies. It was laughable; yet I could not laugh: there was a melancholy

feeling at such a specimen of insanity, which prevented me.

"Now, Peter, we'll go on," said Captain Kearney, after a pause of a few

minutes. "I have a few legacies to bequeath. First, to all my servants

£50 each, and two suits of mourning; to my nephew, Thomas Kearney, of

Kearney Hall, Yorkshire, I bequeath the sword presented me by the Grand

Sultan. I promised it to him, and although we have quarrelled, and not

spoken for years, I always keep my word. The plate presented me by the

merchants and underwriters of Lloyd's, I leave to my worthy friend, the

Duke of Newcastle. Is that down?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well; my snuff-box, presented me by Prince Potemkin, I bequeath to

Admiral Sir Isaac Coffin; and, also, I release him from the mortgage

which I hold over his property of the Madeline Islands, in North

America. By-the-bye, say, and further, I bequeath to him the bag of

snuff presented to me by the Dey of Algiers; he may as well have the

snuff as he has the snuff-box. Is that down?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well then, now, Peter, I must leave you something."

"Oh, never mind me," replied I.

"No, no, Peter, I must not forget my cousin. Let me see; you shall have

my fighting sword. A real good one, I can tell you. I once fought a duel

with it at Palermo, and ran a Sicilian prince so clean through the body,

and it held so tight, that we were obliged to send for a pair of

post-horses to pull it out again. Put that down as a legacy for my

cousin, Peter Simple. I believe that is all. Now for my executors; and I

request my particular friends, the Earl of Londonderry, the Marquis of

Chandos, and Mr John Lubbock, banker, to be my executors, and leave each

of them the sum of one thousand pounds for their trouble, and in token

of regard. That will do, Peter. Now, as I have left so much real

property, it is necessary that there should be three witnesses; so call

in two more, and let me sign in your presence."

This order was obeyed, and this strange will duly attested, for I hardly

need say, that even the presents he had pretended to receive were

purchased by himself at different times; but such was the force of his

ruling passion even to the last. Mr Phillott and O'Brien used to come

and see him, as did occasionally some of the other officers, and he was

always cheerful and merry, and seemed to be quite indifferent about his

situation, although fully aware of it. His stories, if anything, became

more marvellous, as no one ventured to express a doubt as to their

credibility.

I had remained in the hospital about a week, when Captain Kearney was

evidently dying: the doctor came, felt his pulse, and gave it as his

opinion that he could not outlive the day. This was on a Friday, and

there certainly was every symptom of dissolution. He was so exhausted

that he could scarcely articulate; his feet were cold, and his eyes

appeared glazed, and turned upwards. The doctor remained an hour, felt

his pulse again, shook his head, and said to me, in a low voice, "He is

quite gone." As soon as the doctor quitted the room, Captain Kearney

opened his eyes, and beckoned me to him. "He's a confounded fool,

Peter," said he: "he thinks I am slipping my wind now--but I know

better; going I am, 'tis true--but I shan't die till next Thursday."

Strange to say, from that moment he rallied; and although it was

reported that he was dead, and the admiral had signed the acting order

for his successor, the next morning, to the astonishment of everybody,

Captain Kearney was still alive. He continued in this state, between

life and death, until the Thursday next, the day on which he asserted

that he would die--and, on that morning, he was evidently sinking fast.

Towards noon, his breathing became much oppressed and irregular, and he

was evidently dying; the rattle in his throat commenced; and I watched

at his bedside, waiting for his last gasp, when he again opened his

eyes, and beckoning me, with an effort, to put my head close to him to

hear what he had to say, he contrived, in a sort of gurgling whisper,

and with much difficulty, to utter--"Peter, I'm going now--not that the

rattle--in my throat--is a sign of death: for I once knew a man--to

_live_ with--_the rattle in his throat_--for _six weeks_." He fell back

and expired, having, perhaps, at his last gasp, told the greatest lie of

his whole life.

Thus died this most extraordinary character, who, in most other points,

commanded respect: he was a kind man and a good officer; but from the

idiosyncrasy of his disposition, whether from habit or from nature,

could not speak the truth. I say from _nature_, because I have witnessed

the vice of stealing equally strong, and never to be eradicated. It was

in a young messmate of good family, and who was supplied with money to

almost any extent: he was one of the most generous, open-hearted lads

that I ever knew; he would offer his purse, or the contents of his

chest, to any of his messmates, and, at the same time, would steal

everything that he could lay his hands upon. I have known him watch for

hours, to steal what could be of no use to him, as, for instance, an

_odd_ shoe, and that much too small for his foot. What he stole he would

give away the very next day; but to check it was impossible. It was so

well known, that if anything was missed, we used first to apply to his

chest to see if it was there, and usually found the article in question.

He appeared to be wholly insensible to shame upon this subject, though

in every other he showed no want of feeling or of honour; and, strange

to say, he never covered his theft with a lie. After vain attempts to

cure him of this propensity, he was dismissed the service as

incorrigible.

Captain Kearney was buried in the churchyard with the usual military

honours. In his desk we found directions, in his own hand, relative to

his funeral, and the engraving on his tombstone. In these, he stated his

aged to be thirty-one years. If this was correct, Captain Kearney, from

the time that he had been in the service of his country, must have

entered the navy just _four months before_ he was born. It was

unfortunate that he commenced the inscription with "Here lies Captain

Kearney," &c. &c. His tombstone had not been set up twenty-four hours

before somebody, who knew his character, put a dash under one word, as

emphatic as it was true of the living man, "Here _lies_ Captain."

Chapter XXXVIII

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, nor 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 _soubriquet_ 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 on 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 blows 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?"

"Oh, 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 recommissioned. 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 months' 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 safely 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 dockyard, and trying all I

could to obtain further information in my profession. On the Thursday, a

party of soldiers from the depot 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 dockyard 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 speak 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 a 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 soldier's 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,

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 laid 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 trousers had shrunk half way 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, and 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 were 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 know little or nothing of navigation. During

their servitude as 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 was 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 is 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

that 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

captains 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.

Chapter XXXIX

Is a chapter of plots--Catholic casuistry in a new cassock--Plotting

promotes promotion--A peasant's love and a peer's peevishness--Prospects

of prosperity.

As soon as I arrived at the hotel, I sent for a Plymouth paper, and cut

out the paragraph which had been of such importance to me in my

emergency, and the next morning returned home to receive the

congratulations of my family. I found a letter from O'Brien, which had

arrived the day before. It was as follows:--

"MY DEAR PETER,--Some people, they say, are lucky to 'have a father

born before them,' because they are helped on in the world--upon

which principle, mine was born _after_ me, that's certain; however,

that can't be helped. I found all my family well and hearty; but they

all shook a cloth in the wind with respect to toggery. As for Father

M'Grath's cassock, he didn't complain of it without reason. It was the

ghost of a garment; but, however, with the blessing of God, my last

quarterly bill, and the help of a tailor, we have had a regular refit,

and the ancient family of the O'Briens of Ballyhinch are now rigged

from stem to starn. My two sisters are both to be spliced to young

squireens in the neighbourhood; it appears that they only wanted for a

dacent town gown to go to the church in. They will be turned off next

Friday, and I only wish, Peter, you were here to dance at the

weddings. Never mind, I'll dance for you and for myself too. In the

meantime, I'll just tell you what Father M'Grath and I have been

doing, all about and consarning that thief of an uncle of yours.

"It's very little or nothing at all that Father M'Grath did before I

came back, seeing as how Father O'Toole had a new cassock, and Father

M'Grath's was so shabby that he couldn't face him under such a

disadvantage; but still Father M'Grath spied about him, and had

several hints from here and from there, all of which, when I came to

add them up, amounted to just nothing at all.

"But since I came home, we have been busy. Father M'Grath went down to

Ballycleuch, as bold as a lion in his new clothing, swearing that he'd

lead Father O'Toole by the nose for slamming the door in his face, and

so he would have done, if he could have found him; but as he wasn't to

be found, Father M'Grath came back again just as wise, and quite as

brave, as he went out.

"So, Peter, I just took a walk that way myself, and, as I surrounded

the old house where your uncle had taken up his quarters, who should I

meet but the little girl, Ella Flanagan, who was in his service; and I

said to myself, 'There's two ways of obtaining things in this world,

one is for love, and the other is for money.' The O'Briens are better

off in the first article than in the last, as most of their countrymen

are, so I've been spending it very freely in your service, Peter.

"'Sure,' says I, 'you are the little girl that my eyes were ever

looking upon when last I was in this way.'

"'And who are you?' says she.

"'Lieutenant O'Brien, of his Majesty's service, just come home for a

minute to look out for a wife,' says I; 'and it's one about your make,

and shape, and discretion that would please my fancy.'

"And then I praised her eyes, and her nose, and her forehead, and so

downwards, until I came to the soles of her feet; and asked her leave

to see her again, and when she would meet me in the wood and tell me

her mind. At first, she thought (sure enough) that I couldn't be in

earnest, but I swore by all the saints that she was the prettiest girl

in the parts--and so she is altogether--and then she listened to my

blarney. The devil a word did I say about your uncle, or your aunt, or

Father M'Grath, that she might not suspect for I've an idea that

they're all in the story. I only talked about my love for her pretty

self, and that blinded her, as it will all women, 'cute as they may

be.

"And now, Peter, it's three weeks last Sunday, that I've been

bespeaking this poor girl for your sake, and my conscience tells me

that it's not right to make the poor crature fond of me, seeing as how

that I don't care a fig for her in the way of a wife, and in any other

way it would be the ruin of the poor thing. I have spoken to Father

M'Grath on the subject, who says, 'that we may do evil that good may

come, and that, if she has been a party to the deceit, it's nothing

but proper that she should be punished in this world, and that will,

perhaps, save her in the next;' still I don't like it, Peter, and it's

only for you among the living that I'd do such a thing; for the poor

creature now hangs upon me so fondly, and talks about the wedding-day;

and tells me long stories about the connections which have taken place

between the O'Flanagans and the O'Briens, times bygone, when they were

all in their glory. Yesterday, as we sat in the wood, with her arm

round my waist, 'Ella, dear,' says I, 'who are these people that you

stay with?' And then she told me all she knew about their history, and

how Mary Sullivan was a nurse to the baby.

"'And what is the baby?' says I.

"'A boy, sure,' says she.

"'And Sullivan's baby?'

"'That's a girl.'

"'And is Mary Sullivan there now?'

"'No' says she; 'it's yestreen she left with her husband and baby, to

join the regiment that's going out to Ingy.'

"'Yesterday she left?' says I, starting up.

"'Yes,' replies she, 'and what do you care about them?'

"'It's very much I care,' replied I, 'for a little bird has whispered

a secret to me.'

"'And what may that be?' says she.

"'Only that the childer were changed, and you know it as well as I

do.' But she swore that she knew nothing about it, and that she was

not there when either of the children was born, and I believe that she

told the truth. 'Well,' says I, 'who tended the lady?'

"'My own mother,' says Ella. 'And if it was so, who can know but she?'

"Then,' says I, 'Ella, jewel, I've made a vow that I'll never marry

till I find out the truth of this matter; so the sooner you get it out

of your mother the better.' Then she cried very much, and I was almost

ready to cry too, to see how the poor thing was vexed at the idea of

not being married. After a while, she swabbed up her cheeks, and

kissing me, wished me good-by, swearing by all the saints that the

truth should come out, somehow or another.

"It's this morning that I saw her again, as agreed upon yesterday, and

red her eyes were with weeping, poor thing; and she clung to me, and

begged me to forgive her, and not to leave her; and then she told me

that her mother was startled when she put the question to her, and

chewed it, and cursed her when she insisted upon the truth; and how

she had fallen on her knees, and begged her mother not to stand in the

way of her happiness, as she would die if she did (I leave you to

guess if my heart didn't smite me when she said that, Peter, but the

mischief was done), and how her mother had talked about her oath and

Father O'Toole, and said that she would speak to him.

"Now, Peter, I'm sure that the childer have been changed, and that the

nurse has been sent to the Indies to be out of the way. They say they

were to go to Plymouth. The husband's name is, of course, O'Sullivan;

so I'd recommend you to take a coach and see what you can do in that

quarter; in the meantime I'll try all I can for the truth in this, and

will write again as soon as I can find out anything more. All I want

to do is to get Father M'Grath to go to the old devil of a mother, and

I'll answer for it, he'll frighten her into swearing anything. God

bless you, Peter, and give my love to all the family.

"Yours ever,

"TERENCE O'BRIEN."

This letter of O'Brien was the subject of much meditation. The advice to

go to Plymouth was too late, the troops having sailed some time; and I

had no doubt but that Mary Sullivan and her husband were among those who

had embarked at the time that I was at that port to pass my examination.

Show the letter to my father I would not, as it would only have put him

in a fever, and his interference would, in all probability, have done

more harm than good. I therefore waited quietly for more intelligence,

and resolved to apply to my grandfather to obtain my promotion.

A few days afterwards I set off for Eagle Park, and arrived about eleven

o'clock in the morning. I sent in my name, and was admitted into the

library, where I found Lord Privilege in his easy chair as usual.

"Well, child," said he, remaining on his chair, and not offering even

_one_ finger to me, "what do you want, that you come here without an

invitation?"

"Only, my lord, to inquire after your health, and to thank you for your

kindness to me in procuring me and Mr O'Brien the appointment to a fine

frigate."

"Yes," replied his lordship, "I recollect--I think I did so, at your

request, and I think I heard some one say that you have behaved well,

and had been mentioned in the despatches."

"Yes, my lord," replied I, "and I have since passed my examination for

lieutenant."

"Well, child, I'm glad to hear it. Remember me to your father and

family." And his lordship cast his eyes down upon the book which he had

been reading.

My father's observations appeared to be well grounded, but I would not

leave the room until I had made some further attempt.

"Has your lordship heard from my uncle?"

"Yes," replied he, "I had a letter from him yesterday. The child is

quite well. I expect them all here in a fortnight or three weeks, to

live with me altogether. I am old--getting very old, and I shall have

much to arrange with your uncle before I die."

"If I might request a favour of your lordship, it would be to beg that

you would interest yourself a little in obtaining my promotion. A letter

from your lordship to the First Lord--only a few lines--"

"Well, child, I see no objection--only--I am very old, too old to write

now." And his lordship again commenced reading.

I must do Lord Privilege the justice to state that he evidently was fast

verging to a state of second childhood. He was much bowed down since I

had last seen him, and appeared infirm in body as well as mind.

I waited at least a quarter of an hour before his lordship looked up.

"What, not gone yet, child? I thought you had gone home."

"Your lordship was kind enough to say that you had no objection to write

a few lines to the First Lord in my behalf. I trust your lordship will

not refuse me."

"Well," replied he, peevishly, "so I did--but I am too old, too old to

write--I cannot see--I can hardly hold a pen."

"Will your lordship allow me the honour of writing the letter for your

lordship's signature?"

"Well, child--yes--I've no objection. Write as follows--no--write

anything you please--and I'll sign it. I wish your uncle William were

come."

This was more than I did. I had a great mind to show him O'Brien's

letter, but I thought it would be cruel to raise doubts, and harass the

mind of a person so close to the brink of the grave. The truth would

never be ascertained during his life, I thought, and why, therefore,

should I give him pain? At all events, although I had the letter in my

pocket, I resolved not to make use of it except as a _dernier_ resort.

I went to another table, and sat down to write the letter. As his

lordship had said that I might write what I pleased, it occurred to me

that I might assist O'Brien, and I felt sure that his lordship would not

take the trouble to read the letter. I therefore wrote as follows, while

Lord Privilege continued to read his book:--

"MY LORD,--You will confer a very great favour upon me, if you will

hasten the commission which, I have no doubt, is in preparation for my

nephew, Mr Simple, who has passed his examination, and has been

mentioned in the public despatches, and also that you will not lose

sight of Lieutenant O'Brien, who has so distinguished himself by his

gallantry in the various cutting-out expeditions in the West Indies.

Trusting that your lordship will not fail to comply with my earnest

request, I have the honour to be, your lordship's very obedient humble

servant."

I brought this letter, with a pen full of ink, and the noise of my

approach induced his lordship to look up. He stared at first, as having

forgotten the whole circumstance--then said--"Oh yes! I recollect, so I

did--give me the pen." With a trembling hand he signed his name, and

gave me back the letter without reading it, as I expected.

"There, child, don't tease me any more. Good-bye; remember me to your

father."

I wished his lordship a good morning, and went away well satisfied with

the result of my expedition. On my arrival I showed the letter to my

father, who was much surprised at my success, and he assured me that my

grandfather's interest was so great with the administration, that I

might consider my promotion as certain. That no accident might happen, I

immediately set off for London, and delivered the letter at the door of

the First Lord with my own hands, leaving my address with the porter.

Chapter XL

O'Brien and myself take a step each, _pari passu_--A family reunion

productive of anything but unity--My uncle not always the best friend.

A few days afterwards I left my card with my address with the First

Lord, and the next day received a letter from his secretary, which, to

my delight, informed me that my commission had been made out some days

before. I hardly need say that I hastened to take it up, and when paying

my fee to the clerk, I ventured, at a hazard, to inquire whether he knew

the address of Lieutenant O'Brien.

"No," replied he, "I wish to find it out, for he has this day been

promoted to the rank of Commander."

I almost leaped with joy when I heard this good news. I gave O'Brien's

address to the clerk, hastened away with my invaluable piece of

parchment in my hand, and set off immediately for my father's house.

But I was met with sorrow. My mother had been taken severely ill, and I

found the house in commotion--doctors, and apothecaries, and nurses,

running to and fro, my father in a state of excitement, and my dear

sister in tears. Spasm succeeded spasm; and although every remedy was

applied, the next evening she breathed her last. I will not attempt to

describe the grief of my father, who appeared to feel remorse at his

late unkind treatment of her, my sister, and myself. These scenes must

be imagined by those who have suffered under similar bereavements. I

exerted myself to console my poor sister, who appeared to cling to me as

to her only support, and, after the funeral was over, we recovered our

tranquillity, although the mourning was still deeper in our hearts than

in our outward dress. I had written to O'Brien to announce the mournful

intelligence, and, like a true friend, he immediately made his

appearance to console me.

O'Brien had received the letter from the Admiralty, acquainting him with

his promotion; and, two days after he arrived, went to take up his

commission. I told him frankly by what means he had obtained it, and he

again concluded his thanks by a reference to the mistake of the former

supposition, that of my being "the fool of the family."

"By the powers, it would be well for any man if he had a few of such

foolish friends about him," continued he; "but I won't blarney you,

Peter; you know what my opinion always has been, so we'll say no more

about it."

When he came back, we had a long consultation as to the best method of

proceeding to obtain employment, for O'Brien was anxious to be again

afloat, and so was I. I regretted parting with my sister, but my father

was so morose and ill-tempered, that I had no pleasure at home, except

in her company. Indeed, my sister was of opinion, that it would be

better if I were away, as my father's misanthropy, now unchecked by my

mother, appeared to have increased, and he seemed to view me with

positive dislike. It was, therefore, agreed unanimously between my

sister, and me, and O'Brien, who was always of our councils, that it

would be advisable that I should be again afloat.

"I can manage him much better when alone, Peter; I shall have nothing to

occupy me, and take me away from him, as your presence does now; and,

painful as it is to part with you, my duty to my father, and my wish for

your advancement, induce me to request that you will, if possible, find

some means of obtaining employment."

"Spoken like a hero, as ye are, Miss Ellen, notwithstanding your pretty

face and soft eyes," said O'Brien. "And now, Peter, for the means to

bring it about. If I can get a ship, there is no fear for you, as I

shall choose you for my lieutenant; but how is that to be managed? Do

you think that you can come over the old gentleman at Eagle Park?"

"At all events, I'll try," replied I; "I can but be floored, O'Brien."

Accordingly, the next day I set off for my grandfather's, and was put

down at the lodge, at the usual hour, about eleven o'clock. I walked up

the avenue, and knocked at the door: when it was opened, I perceived a

hesitation among the servants, and a constrained air, which I did not

like. I inquired after Lord Privilege--the answer was, that he was

pretty well, but did not see _any_ body.

"Is my uncle here?" said I.

"Yes, sir," replied the servant, with a significant look, "and all his

family are here too."

"Are you sure that I cannot see my _grandfather_" said I, laying a

stress upon the word.

"I will tell him that you are here, sir," replied the man, "but even

that is against orders."

I had never seen my uncle since I was a child, and could not even

recollect him--my cousins, or my aunt, I had never met with. In a minute

an answer was brought, requesting that I would walk into the library.

When I was ushered in, I found myself in the presence of Lord Privilege,

who sat in his usual place, and a tall gentleman, whom I knew at once to

be my uncle, from his likeness to my father.

"Here is the young gentleman, my lord," said my uncle, looking at me

sternly.

"Heh! what--oh? I recollect. Well, child, so you've been behaving very

ill--sorry to hear it. Good-bye."

"Behaving ill, my lord!" replied I. "I am not aware of having so done."

"Reports are certainly very much against you, nephew," observed my

uncle, drily. "Some one has told your grandfather what has much

displeased him. I know nothing about it myself."

"Then some rascal has slandered me, sir," replied I.

My uncle started at the word rascal; and then recovering himself,

replied, "Well, nephew, what is it that you require of Lord Privilege,

for I presume this visit is not without a cause?"

"Sir," replied I, "my visit to Lord Privilege was, first to thank him

for having procured me my commission as lieutenant, and to request the

favour that he would obtain me active employment, which a line from him

will effect immediately."

"I was not aware, nephew, that you had been made lieutenant; but I agree

with you, that the more you are at sea the better. His lordship shall

sign the letter. Sit down."

"Shall I write it, sir?" said I to my uncle: "I know what to say."

"Yes; and bring it to me when it is written."

I felt convinced that the only reason which induced my uncle to obtain

me employment was the idea that I should be better out of the way, and

that there was more risk at sea than on shore. I took a sheet of paper,

and wrote as follows:--

"My LORD,--May I request that your lordship will be pleased to

appoint the bearer of this to a ship, as soon as convenient, as I wish

him to be actively employed.

"I am, my lord, &c, &c."

"Why not mention your name?"

"It is of no consequence," replied I, "as it will be delivered in

person, and that will insure my speedy appointment."

The letter was placed before his lordship for signature. It was with

some difficulty that he was made to understand that he was to sign it.

The old gentleman appeared much more imbecile than when I last saw him.

I thanked him, folded up the letter, and put it in my pocket. At last he

looked at me, and a sudden flash of recollection appeared to come across

his mind.

"Well child so you escaped from the French prison--heh! and how's your

friend--what is his name, heh?"

"O'Brien, my lord."

"O'Brien!" cried my uncle, "he is _your_ friend; then, sir, I presume it

is to you that I am indebted for all the inquiries and reports which are

so industriously circulated in Ireland--the tampering with my servants--

and other impertinences?"

I did not choose to deny the truth, although I was a little fluttered by

the sudden manner in which it came to light. I replied, "I never tamper

with any people's servants, sir."

"No," said he, "but you employ others so to do. I discovered the whole

of your proceedings after the scoundrel left for England."

"If you apply the word scoundrel _to_ Captain O'Brien, sir, in his name

I contradict it."

"As you please, sir," replied my uncle, in a passion; "but you will

oblige me by quitting this house immediately, and expect nothing more,

either from the present or the future Lord Privilege, except that

retaliation which your infamous conduct has deserved."

I felt much irritated, and replied very sharply, "From the present Lord

Privilege I certainly expect nothing more, neither do I from his

successor; but after your death, uncle, I expect that the person who

succeeds to the title will do all he can for your humble servant. I wish

you a good morning, uncle."

My uncle's eyes flashed fire as I finished my speech, which indeed was a

very bold, and a very foolish one too, as it afterwards proved. I

hastened out of the room, not only from the fear of being turned out of

the house before all the servants, but also from the dread that my

letter to the First Lord might be taken from me by force; but I shall

never forget the scowl of vengeance which crossed my uncle's brows, as I

turned round and looked at him as I shut the door. I found my way out

without the assistance of the servants, and hastened home as fast as I

could.

"O'Brien," said I, on my return, "there is no time to be lost; the

sooner you hasten to town with this letter of introduction, the better

it will be, for depend upon it my uncle will do me all the harm that he

can." I then repeated to him all that had passed, and it was agreed that

O'Brien should take the letter, which, having reference to the bearer,

would do as well for him as for me; and, if O'Brien obtained an

appointment, I was sure not only of being one of his lieutenants, but

also of sailing with a dear friend. The next morning O'Brien set off for

London, and fortunately saw the First Lord the day after his arrival,

which was a levee day. The First Lord received the letter from O'Brien,

and requested him to sit down. He then read it, inquired after his

lordship, asked whether his health was good, &c.

O'Brien replied, "that with the blessing of God, his lordship might live

many years: that he had never heard him complain of ill health." All

which was not false, if not true. I could not help observing to O'Brien,

when he returned home and told me what had passed, "that I thought,

considering what he had expressed with respect to white lies and black

lies, that he had not latterly adhered to his own creed."

"That's very true, Peter; and I've thought of it myself, but it is my

creed nevertheless. We all know what's right, but we don't always follow

it. The fact is, I begin to think that it is absolutely necessary to

fight the world with its own weapons. I spoke to Father M'Grath on the

subject, and he replied--'That if anyone, by doing wrong, necessitated

another to do wrong to circumvent him, that the first party was

answerable, not only for his own sin, but also for the sin committed in

self-defence."

"But, O'Brien, I do not fix my faith so implicitly upon Father M'Grath;

and I do not much admire many of his directions."

"No more do I, Peter, when I think upon them; but how am I to puzzle my

head upon these points? All I know is, that when you are divided between

your inclination and your duty, it's mighty convenient to have a priest

like Father M'Grath to decide for you, and to look after your soul into

the bargain."

It occurred to me that I myself, when finding fault with O'Brien, had,

in the instance of both the letters from Lord Privilege, been also

guilty of deceit. I was therefore blaming him for the same fault

committed by myself; and I am afraid that I was too ready in consoling

myself with Father M'Grath's maxim, "that one might do evil that good

might come." But to return to O'Brien's interview.

After some little conversation, the First Lord said, "Captain O'Brien, I

am always very ready to oblige Lord Privilege, and the more so as his

recommendation is of an officer of your merit. In a day or two, if you

call at the Admiralty, you will hear further." O'Brien wrote to us

immediately, and we waited with impatience for his next letter: but,

instead of the letter, he made his appearance on the third day, and

first hugged me in his arms, he then came to my sister, embraced her,

and skipped and danced about the room.

"What is the matter, O'Brien?" said I, while Ellen retreated in

confusion.

O'Brien pulled a parchment out of his pocket. "Here, Peter, my dear

Peter; now for honour and glory. An eighteen-gun brig, Peter. The

_Rattlesnake_--Captain O'Brien--West India station. By the holy father!

my heart's bursting with joy!" and down he sank into an easy chair.

"A'n't I almost beside myself?" inquired he, after a short pause.

"Ellen thinks so, I dare say," replied I, looking at my sister, who

stood in the corner of the room, thinking O'Brien was really out of his

senses, and still red with confusion.

O'Brien, who then called to mind what a slip of decorum he had been

guilty of, immediately rose, and resuming his usual unsophisticated

politeness, as he walked up to my sister, took her hand, and said,

"Excuse me, my dear Miss Ellen; I must apologize for my rudeness; but my

delight was so great, and my gratitude to your brother so intense, that

I am afraid that in my warmth I allowed the expression of my feelings to

extend to one so dear to him, and so like him in person and in mind.

Will you only consider that you received the overflowings of a grateful

heart towards your brother, and for his sake pardon my indiscretion?"

Ellen smiled, and held out her hand to O'Brien, who led her to the sofa,

where we all three sat down: and he then commenced a more intelligible

narrative of what had passed. He had called on the day appointed, and

sent up his card. The First Lord could not see him, but referred him to

the private secretary, who presented him with his commission to the

_Rattlesnake_, eighteen-gun brig. The secretary smiled most graciously,

and told O'Brien in confidence that he would proceed to the West India

station as soon as his vessel was manned and ready for sea. He inquired

of O'Brien whom he wished as his first lieutenant. O'Brien replied that

he wished for me; but as, in all probability, I should not be of

sufficient standing to be first lieutenant, that the Admiralty might

appoint any other to the duty, provided I joined the ship. The secretary

made a minute of O'Brien's wish, and requested him, if he had a vacancy

to spare as midshipman, to allow him to send one on board; to which

O'Brien willingly acceded, shook hands with him, and O'Brien quitted the

Admiralty to hasten down to us with the pleasing intelligence.

"And now," said O'Brien, "I have made up my mind how to proceed. I shall

first run down to Plymouth and hoist my pennant; then I shall ask for a

fortnight's leave, and go to Ireland to see how they get on, and what

Father M'Grath may be about. So, Peter, let's pass this evening as

happily as we can; for though you and I shall soon meet again, yet it

may be years, or perhaps never, that we three shall sit down on the same

sofa as we do now."

Ellen, who was still nervous, from the late death of my mother, looked

down, and I perceived the tears start in her eyes at the remark of

O'Brien, that perhaps we should never meet again. And I did pass a happy

evening. I had a dear sister on one side of me, and a sincere friend on

the other. How few situations more enviable!

O'Brien left us early the next morning; and at breakfast-time a letter

was handed to my father. It was from my uncle, coldly communicating to

him that Lord Privilege had died the night before, very suddenly, and

informing him that the burial would take place on that day week, and

that the will would be opened immediately after the funeral. My father

handed the letter over to me without saying a word, and sipped his tea

with his tea-spoon. I cannot say that I felt very much on the occasion;

but I did feel, because he had been kind to me at one time: as for my

father's feelings, I could not--or rather I should say, I did not wish

to analyze them. As soon as he had finished his cup of tea, he left the

breakfast-table, and went into his study. I then communicated the

intelligence to my sister Ellen.

"My God!" said she, after a pause, putting her hand up to her eyes;

"what a strange unnatural state of society must we have arrived at, when

my father can thus receive the intelligence of a parent's death! Is it

not dreadful?"

"It is, my dearest girl," replied I; "but every feeling has been

sacrificed to worldly considerations and an empty name. The younger sons

have been neglected, if not deserted. Virtue, talent, everything set at

naught--intrinsic value despised--and the only claim to consideration

admitted, that of being the heir entail. When all the ties of nature are

cast loose by the parents, can you be surprised if the children are no

longer bound by them? Most truly do you observe, that it is a detestable

state of society."

"I did not say detestable, brother; I said strange and unnatural."

"Had you said what I said, Ellen, you would not have been wrong. I would

not for the title and wealth which it brings, be the heartless,

isolated, I may say neglected being that my grandfather was; were it

offered now, I would not barter for it Ellen's love."

Ellen threw herself in my arms; we then walked into the garden, where we

had a long conversation relative to our future wishes, hopes, and

prospects.

Chapter XLI

Pompous obsequies--The reading of the will, not exactly after Wilkie--I

am left a legacy--What becomes of it--My father, very warm, writes a

sermon to cool himself--I join O'Brien's brig, and fall in with

Swinburne.

On that day week I accompanied my father to Eagle Park, to assist at the

burial of Lord Privilege. We were ushered into the room where the body

had laid in state for three days. The black hangings, the lofty plumes,

the rich ornaments on the coffin, and the number of wax candles with

which the room was lighted, produced a solemn and grand effect. I could

not help, as I leaned against the balustrade before the coffin and

thought of its contents, calling to mind when my poor grandfather's

feelings seemed, as it were, inclined to thaw in my favour, when he

called me "his child," and, in all probability, had not my uncle had a

son, would have died in my arms, fond and attached to me for my own

sake, independently of worldly considerations. I felt that had I known

him longer, I could have loved him, and that he would have loved me; and

I thought to myself, how little all these empty honours, after his

decease, could compensate for the loss of those reciprocal feelings,

which would have so added to his happiness during his existence. But he

had lived for pomp and vanity; and pomp and vanity attended him to his

grave. I thought of my sister Ellen, and of O'Brien, and walked away

with the conviction that Peter Simple might have been an object of envy

to the late Right Honourable Lord Viscount Privilege, Baron Corston,

Lord Lieutenant of the county, and one of His Majesty's Most Honourable

Privy Councillors.

When the funeral, which was very tedious and very splendid, was over, we

all returned in the carriages to Eagle Park, when my uncle, who had of

course assumed the title, and who had attended as chief mourner, was in

waiting to receive us. We were shown into the library, and in the chair

so lately and constantly occupied by my grandfather, sat the new lord.

Near to him were the lawyers, with parchments lying before them. As we

severally entered, he waved his hand to unoccupied chairs, intimating to

us to sit down; but no words were exchanged, except an occasional

whisper between him and the lawyers. When all the branches of the family

were present, down to the fourth and fifth cousins, the lawyer on the

right of my uncle put on his spectacles, and unrolling the parchment

commenced reading the will. I paid attention to it at first; but the

legal technicalities puzzled me, and I was soon thinking of other

matters, until after half an hour's reading, I was startled at the sound

of my own name. It was a bequest by codicil to me, of the sum of ten

thousand pounds. My father who sat by me, gave me a slight push, to

attract my attention; and I perceived that his face was not quite so

mournful as before. I was rejoicing at this unexpected intelligence. I

called to mind what my father had said to me when we were returning from

Eagle Park, "that my grandfather's attentions to me were as good as ten

thousand pounds in his will," and was reflecting how strange it was that

he had hit upon the exact sum. I also thought of what my father had said

of his own affairs, and his not having saved anything for his children,

and congratulated myself that I should now be able to support my dear

sister Ellen, in case of any accident happening to my father, when I was

roused by another mention of my name. It was a codicil dated about a

week back, in which my grandfather, not pleased at my conduct, revoked

the former codicil, and left me nothing. I knew where the blow came

from, and I looked my uncle in the face; a gleam of malignant pleasure

was in his eyes, which had been fixed on me, waiting to receive my

glance. I returned it with a smile expressive of scorn and contempt, and

then looked at my father, who appeared to be in a state of misery. His

head had fallen upon his breast, and his hands were clasped. Although I

was shocked at the blow, for I knew how much the money was required, I

felt too proud to show it; indeed, I felt that I would not for worlds

have exchanged situations with my uncle, much less feelings; for when

those who remain meet to ascertain the disposition made, by one who is

summoned away to the tribunal of his Maker, of those worldly and

perishable things which he must leave behind him, feelings of rancour

and ill-will might, for the time, be permitted to subside, and the

memory of a "departed brother" be productive of charity and good-will.

After a little reflection, I felt that I could forgive my uncle.

Not so my father; the codicil which deprived me of my inheritance, was

the last of the will, and the lawyer rolled up the parchment and took

off his spectacles. Everybody rose; my father seized his hat, and

telling me in a harsh voice to follow him, tore off the crape weepers,

and then threw them on the floor as he walked away. I also took off

mine, and laid them on the table, and followed him. My father called his

carriage, waited in the hall till it was driven up, and jumped into it.

I followed him; he drew up the blind, and desired them to drive home.

"Not a sixpence! By the God of heaven, not a sixpence! My name not even

mentioned, except for a paltry mourning ring! And yours--pray sir, what

have you been about, after having such a sum left you, to forfeit your

grandfather's good opinion? Heh! sir--tell me directly," continued he,

turning round to me in a rage.

"Nothing, my dear father, that I'm aware of. My uncle is evidently my

enemy."

"And why should he be particularly your enemy? Peter, there must be some

reason for his having induced your grandfather to alter his bequest in

your favour. I insist upon it, sir, that you tell me immediately."

"My dear father, when you are more calm, I will talk this matter over

with you. I hope I shall not be considered wanting in respect, when I

say, that as a clergyman of the church of England--"

"D--n the church of England, and those that put me into it!" replied my

father, maddened with rage.

I was shocked, and held my tongue. My father appeared also to be

confused at his hasty expressions. He sank back in his carriage, and

preserved a gloomy silence until we arrived at our own door. As soon as

we entered, my father hastened to his own room, and I went up to my

sister Ellen, who was in her bed room. I revealed to her all that had

passed, and advised with her on the propriety of my communicating to my

father the reasons which had occasioned my uncle's extreme aversion

towards me. After much argument, she agreed with me, that the disclosure

had now become necessary.

After the dinner-cloth had been removed, I then communicated to my

father the circumstances which had come to our knowledge relative to my

uncle's establishment in Ireland. He heard me very attentively, took out

tablets, and made notes.

"Well, Peter," said he, after a few minutes' silence, when I had

finished, "I see clearly through this whole business. I have no doubt

but that a child has been substituted to defraud you and me of our just

inheritance of the title and estates; but I will now set to work and try

if I cannot find out the secret; and, with the help of Captain O'Brien

and Father M'Grath, I think it is not at all impossible."

"O'Brien will do all that he can, sir," replied I; "and I expect soon to

hear from him. He must have now been a week in Ireland."

"I shall go there myself," replied my father; "and there are no means

that I will not resort to, to discover this infamous plot. No,"

exclaimed he, striking his fist on the table, so as to shiver two of the

wine-glasses into fragments--"no means but I will resort to."

"That is," replied I, "my dear father, no means which may be

legitimately employed by one of your profession."

"I tell you, no means that can be used by _man_ to recover his defrauded

rights! Tell me not of legitimate means, when I am to lose a title and

property by a spurious and illegitimate substitution! By the God of

heaven, I will meet them with fraud for fraud, with false swearing for

false swearing, and with blood for blood, if it should be necessary! My

brother has dissolved all ties, and I will have my right, even if I

demand it with a pistol at his ear."

"For Heaven's sake, my dear father, do not be so violent--recollect your

profession."

"I do," replied he, bitterly; "and how I was forced into it against my

will. I recollect my father's words, the solemn coolness with which he

told me, 'I had my choice of the church, or--to starve.'--But I have my

sermon to prepare for to-morrow, and I can sit here no longer. Tell

Ellen to send me in some tea."

I did not think my father was in a very fit state of mind to write a

sermon, but I held my tongue. My sister joined me, and we saw no more of

him till breakfast the next day. Before we met, I received a letter from

O'Brien.

"MY DEAR PETER,--I ran down to Plymouth, hoisted my pennant, drew my

jollies from the dockyard, and set my first lieutenant to work getting

in the ballast and water-tanks. I then set off for Ireland, and was

very well received as Captain O'Brien by my family, who were all

flourishing.

"Now that my two sisters are so well married off, my father and mother

are very comfortable, but rather lonely; for I believe I told you long

before, that it had pleased Heaven to take all the rest of my brothers

and sisters, except the two now married, and one who bore up for a

nunnery, dedicating her service to God, after she was scarred with the

small-pox, and no man would look at her. Ever since the family have

been grown up, my father and mother have been lamenting and sorrowing

that none of them would go off; and now that they're all gone off one

way or another, they cry all day because they are left all alone with

no one to keep company with them, except Father M'Grath and the pigs.

We never are to be contented in this world, that's sartain; and now

that they are comfortable in every respect, they find that they are

very uncomfortable, and having obtained all their wishes, they wish

everything back again; but as old Maddocks used to say, 'A good growl

is better than a bad dinner' with some people; and the greatest

pleasure that they now have is to grumble; and if that makes them

happy, they must be happy all day long--for the devil a bit do they

leave off from morning till night.

"The first thing that I did was to send for Father M'Grath, who had

been more away from home than usual--I presume, not finding things

quite so comfortable as they used to be. He told me that he had met

with Father O'Toole, and had a bit of a dialogue with him, which had

ended in a bit of a row, and that he had cudgelled Father O'Toole

well, and tore his gown off his back, and then tore it into shivers,--

that Father O'Toole had referred the case to the bishop, and that was

how the matter stood just then. 'But,' says he, 'the spalpeen has left

this part of the country, and, what is more, has taken Ella and her

mother with him; and what is still worse, no one could find out where

they were gone; but it was believed that they had all been sent over

the water.' So you see, Peter, that this is a bad job in one point,

which is, that we have no chance of getting the truth out of the old

woman; for now that we have war with France, who is to follow them? On

the other hand, it is good news; for it prevents me from decoying that

poor young girl, and making her believe what will never come to pass;

and I am not a little glad on that score, for Father M'Grath was told

by those who were about her, that she did nothing but weep and moan

for two days before she went away, scolded as she was by her mother,

and threatened by that blackguard O'Toole. It appears to me, that all

our hopes now are in finding out the soldier, and his wife the

wet-nurse, who were sent to India--no doubt with the hope that the

climate and the fevers may carry them off. That uncle of yours is a

great blackguard, every bit of him. I shall leave here in three days,

and you must join me at Plymouth. Make my compliments to your father,

and my regards to your sister, whom may all the saints preserve! God

bless her, for ever and ever. Amen.

"Yours ever,

"TERENCE O'BRIEN."

I put this letter into my father's hands when he came out of his room.

"This is a deep-laid plot," said he, "and I think we must immediately do

as O'Brien states--look after the nurse who was sent to India. Do you

know the regiment to which her husband belongs?"

"Yes, sir," replied I; "it is the 33rd, and she sailed for India about

three months back."

"The name, you say, I think, is O'Sullivan," said he, pulling out his

tablets. "Well, I will write immediately to Captain Fielding, and beg

him to make the minutest inquiries. I will also write to your sister

Lucy, for women are much keener than men in affairs of this sort. If the

regiment is ordered to Ceylon, all the better: if not, he must obtain

furlough to prosecute his inquiries. When that is done, I will go myself

to Ireland, and try if we cannot trace the other parties."

My father then left the room, and I retired with Ellen to make

preparations for joining my ship at Plymouth. A letter announcing my

appointment had come down, and I had written to request my commission to

be forwarded to the clerk of the cheque at Plymouth, that I might save a

useless journey to London. On the following day I parted with my father

and my dear sister, and, without any adventure, arrived at Plymouth

Dock, where I met with O'Brien. The same day I reported myself to the

admiral, and joined my brig, which was lying alongside the hulk with her

topmasts pointed through. Returning from the brig, as I was walking up

Fore-street, I observed a fine stout sailor, whose back was turned to

me, reading the handbill which had been posted up everywhere announcing

that the _Rattlesnake_, Captain O'Brien (about to proceed to the West

India station, where _doubloons_ were so plentiful that dollars were

only used for ballast), was in want of a _few_ stout hands. It might

have been said, of a great many: for we had not entered six men, and

were doing all the work with the marines and riggers of the dockyard;

but it is not the custom to show your poverty in this world either with

regard to men or money. I stopped, and overheard him say, "Ay, as for

the doubloons, that cock won't fight. I've served long enough in the

West Indies not to be humbugged; but I wonder whether Captain O'Brien

was the second lieutenant of the _Sanglier_. If so, I shouldn't mind

trying a cruise with him." I thought that I recollected the voice, and

touching him on the shoulder, he turned round, and it proved to be

Swinburne. "What, Swinburne!" said I, shaking him by the hand, for I was

delighted to see him, "is it you?"

"Why, Mr Simple! Well, then, I expect that I'm right, and that Mr

O'Brien is made, and commands this craft. When you meet the pilot-fish,

the shark arn't far off, you know."

"You're very right, Swinburne," said I, "in all except calling Captain

O'Brien a shark. He's no shark."

"No, that he arn't, except in one way; that is, that I expect he'll soon

show his teeth to the Frenchmen. But I beg your pardon, sir;" and

Swinburne took off his hat.

"Oh! I understand; you did not perceive before that I had shipped the

swab. Yes, I'm lieutenant of the _Rattlesnake_, Swinburne, and hope

you'll join us."

"There's my hand upon it, Mr Simple," said he, smacking his great fist

into mine so as to make it tingle. "I'm content if I know that the

captain's a good officer; but when there's two, I think myself lucky.

I'll just take a boat, and put my name on the books, and then I'll be on

shore again to spend the rest of my money, and try if I can't pick up a

few hands as volunteers, for I know where they all be stowed away. I was

looking at the craft this morning, and rather took a fancy to her. She

has a d--d pretty run; but I hope Captain O'Brien will take off her

fiddle-head, and get one carved: I never knew a vessel do much with a

_fiddle_-head."

"I rather think that Captain O'Brien has already applied to the

Commissioner on the subject," replied I; "at all events, it won't be

very difficult to make the alteration ourselves."

"To be sure not," replied Swinburne; "a coil of four-inch will make the

body of the snake; I can carve out the head; and as for a _rattle_, I be

blessed if I don't rob one of those beggars of watchmen this very night.

So good-bye, Mr Simple, till we meet again."

Swinburne kept his word; he joined the ship that afternoon, and the next

day came off with six good hands, who had been induced from his

representations to join the brig. "Tell Captain O'Brien," said he to me,

"not to be in too great a hurry to man his ship. I know where there are

plenty to be had; but I'll try fair means first." This he did, and every

day, almost, he brought off a man, and all he did bring off were good

able seamen. Others volunteered, and we were now more than half-manned,

and ready for sea. The admiral then gave us permission to send

pressgangs on shore.

"Mr Simple," said Swinburne, "I've tried all I can to persuade a lot of

fine chaps to enter, but they won't. Now I'm resolved that my brig shall

be well manned; and if they don't know what's good for them, I do, and

I'm sure that they will thank me for it afterwards; so I'm determined to

take every mother's son of them."

The same night we mustered all Swinburne's men and went on shore to a

crimp's house which they knew, surrounded it with our marines in blue

jackets, and took out of it twenty-three fine able seamen, which nearly

filled up our complement. The remainder we obtained by a draft from the

admiral's ship; and I do not believe that there was a vessel that left

Plymouth harbour and anchored in the Sound, better manned than the

_Rattlesnake_. So much for good character, which is never lost upon

seamen O'Brien was universally liked by those who had sailed with him,

and Swinburne, who knew him well persuaded many, and forced the others,

to enter with him, whether they liked it or not. This they in the event

did, and, with the exception of those drafted from the flag-ship, we had

no desertions. Indeed, none deserted whom we would have wished to

retain, and their vacancies were soon filled up with better men.

Chapter XLII

We sail for the West Indies--A volunteer for the ship refused and set on

shore again, for reasons which the chapter will satisfactorily explain

to the reader.

We were very glad when the master-attendant came on board to take us

into the Sound; and still more glad to perceive that the brig, which had

just been launched before O'Brien was appointed to her, appeared to sail

very fast as she ran out. So it proved after we went to sea; she sailed

wonderfully well, beating every vessel that she met, and overhauling in

a very short time everything that we chased; turning to windward like

magic, and tacking in a moment. Three days after we anchored in the

Sound the ship's company were paid, and our sailing orders came down to

proceed with despatches, by next evening's post, to the island of

Jamaica. We started with a fair wind, and were soon clear of the

channel. Our whole time was now occupied in training our new ship's

company at the guns, and learning them _to pull together;_ and by the

time that we had run down the trades, we were in a very fair state of

discipline. The first lieutenant was rather an odd character; his

brother was a sporting man of large property, and he had contracted,

from his example, a great partiality for such pursuits. He knew the

winning horses of the Derby and the Oaks for twenty years back, was an

adept at all athletic exercises, a capital shot, and had his pointer on

board. In other respects, he was a great dandy in his person, always

wore gloves, even on service, very gentlemanlike and handsome, and not a

very bad sailor; that is, he knew enough to carry on his duty very

creditably, and evidently, now that he was the first lieutenant, and

obliged to work, learnt more of his duty every day. I never met a more

pleasant messmate or a more honourable young man. A brig is only allowed

two lieutenants. The master was a rough, kind-hearted, intelligent young

man, always in good humour. The surgeon and purser completed our mess;

they were men of no character at all, except, perhaps, that the surgeon

was too much of a courtier, and the purser too much of a skin-flint; but

pursers are, generally speaking, more sinned against than sinning.

But I have been led away, while talking of the brig and the officers,

and had almost forgotten to narrate a circumstance which occurred two

days before we sailed. I was with O'Brien in the cabin, when Mr

Osbaldistone, the first lieutenant, came in, and reported that a boy had

come on board to volunteer for the ship.

"What sort of a lad is he?" said O'Brien.

"A very nice lad--very slight, sir," replied the first lieutenant. "We

have two vacancies."

"Well, see what you make of him; and if you think he will do, you may

put him on the books."

"I have tried him, sir. He says that he has been a short time at sea. I

made him mount the main-rigging, but he did not much like it."

"Well, do as you please, Osbaldistone," replied O'Brien; and the first

lieutenant quitted the cabin.

In about a quarter of an hour he returned. "If you please, sir," said

he, laughing, "I sent the boy down to the surgeon to be examined, and he

refused to strip. The surgeon says that he thinks she is a woman. I have

had her up on the quarter-deck, and she refuses to answer any questions,

and requires to speak with you."

"With me!" said O'Brien, with surprise. "Oh! one of the men's wives, I

suppose, trying to steal a march upon us. Well, send her down here,

Osbaldistone, and I'll prove to her the moral impossibility of her

sailing in his Majesty's brig _Rattlesnake_."

In a few minutes the first lieutenant sent her down to the cabin door,

and I was about to retire as she entered; but O'Brien stopped me. "Stay,

Peter: my reputation will be at stake if I'm left all alone," said he,

laughing.

The sentry opened the door, and whether boy or girl, a more interesting

face I never beheld; the hair was cut close, and I could not tell

whether the surgeon's suspicions were correct.

"You wish to speak--holy St Patrick!" cried O'Brien, looking earnestly

at her features; and O'Brien covered his face and bent over the table,

exclaiming, "My God, my God!"

In the meantime the colour of the young person fled from her

countenance, and then rushed into it again, alternately leaving it pale

and suffused with blushes. I perceived a trembling over the frame, the

knees shook and knocked together, and had I not hastened, she--for a

female it was--would have fallen on the deck. I perceived that she had

fainted; I therefore laid her down on the deck, and hastened to obtain

some water. O'Brien ran up and went to her.

"My poor, poor girl!" said he, sorrowfully. "Oh! Peter, this is all your

fault."

"All my fault! how could she have come here?"

"By all the saints who pray for us--dearly as I prize them, I would give

up my ship and my commission, that this could be undone."

As O'Brien hung over her, the tears from his eyes fell upon her face,

while I bathed it with the water I had brought from the dressing-room. I

knew who it must be, although I had never seen her. It was the girl to

whom O'Brien had professed love, to worm out the secret of the exchange

of my uncle's child; and as I beheld the scene I could not help saying

to myself, "Who now will assert that evil may be done that good may

come?" The poor girl showed symptoms of recovering, and O'Brien waved

his hand to me, saying, "Leave us, Peter, and see that no one comes in."

I remained nearly an hour at the cabin-door, by the sentry, and

prevented many from entering, when O'Brien opened the door, and

requested me to order his gig to be manned and then to come in. The poor

girl had evidently been weeping bitterly, and O'Brien was much affected.

"All is arranged, Peter; you must go on shore with her, and not leave

her till you see her safe off by the night coach. Do me that favour,

Peter--you ought indeed," continued he, in a low voice, "for you have

been partly the occasion of this."

I shook O'Brien's hand and made no answer--the boat was reported ready,

and the girl followed me with a firm step. I pulled on shore, saw her

safe in the coach without asking her any question, and then returned on

board.

"Come on board, sir," said I, entering the cabin with my hat in my hand,

and reporting myself according to the regulations of the service.

"Thank you," replied O'Brien: "shut the door, Peter. Tell me, how did

she behave? What did she say?"

"She never spoke, and I never asked her a question. She seemed to be

willing to do as you had arranged."

"Sit down, Peter. I never felt more unhappy, or more disgusted with

myself in all my life. I feel as if I never could be happy again. A

sailor's life mixes him up with the worst part of the female sex, and we

do not know the real value of the better. I little thought when I was

talking nonsense to that poor girl, that I was breaking one of the

kindest hearts in the world, and sacrificing the happiness of one who

would lay down her existence for me, Peter. Since you have been gone,

it's twenty times that I've looked in the glass just to see whether I

don't look like a villain. But, by the blood of St Patrick! I thought

woman's _love_ was just like our own, and that a three months' cruise

would set all to rights again."

"I thought she had gone over to France."

"So did I; but now she has told me all about it. Father M'Dermot[1] and

her mother brought her down to the coast near here to embark in a

smuggling boat for Dieppe. When the boat pulled in-shore in the night to

take them in, the mother and the rascally priest got in, but she felt as

if it was leaving the whole world to leave the country I was in, and she

held back. The officers came down, one or two pistols were fired, and

the boat shoved off without her, and she, with their luggage, was left

on the beach. She went back to the next town with the officers, where

she told the truth of the story, and they let her go. In Father

M'Dermot's luggage she found letters, which she read, and found out that

she and her mother were to have been placed in a convent at Dieppe; and,

as the convent was named in the letters,--which she says are very

important, but I have not had courage to read them yet,--she went to

the people from whose house they had embarked, requesting them to

forward the luggage and a letter to her mother--sending everything but

the letters, which she reserved for me. She has since received a letter

from her mother, telling her that she is safe and well in the convent,

and begging her to come over to her as soon as possible. The mother took

the vows a week after she arrived there, so we know where to find her,

Peter."

"And where is the poor girl going to stay now, O'Brien?"

"That's all the worst part of it. It appears that she hoped not to be

found out till after we had sailed, and then to have, as she said, poor

thing! to have laid at my feet and watched over me in the storms; but I

pointed out to her that it was not permitted, and that I would not be

allowed to marry her. O Peter! this is a very sad business," continued

O'Brien, passing his hand across his eyes.

"Well, but, O'Brien, what is to become of the poor girl?"

"She is going home to be with my father and mother, hoping one day that

I shall come back and marry her. I have written to Father M'Grath, to

see what he can do."

"Have you then not undeceived her?"

"Father M'Grath must do that, I could not. It would have been the death

of her. It would have stabbed her to the heart, and it's not for me to

give that blow. I'd sooner have died--sooner have married her, than have

done it, Peter. Perhaps when I'm far away she'll bear it better. Father

M'Grath will manage it."

"O'Brien, I don't like that Father M'Grath."

"Well, Peter, you may be right; I don't exactly like all he says myself;

but what is a man to do?--either he is a Catholic, and believes as a

Catholic, or he is not one. Will I abandon my religion, now that it is

persecuted? Never, Peter: I hope not, without I find a much better, at

all events. Still I do not like to feel that this advice of my confessor

is at variance with my own conscience. Father M'Grath is a worldly man;

but that only proves that he is wrong, not that our religion is--and I

don't mind speaking to you on this subject. No one knows that I'm a

Catholic except yourself: and at the Admiralty they never asked me to

take that oath which I never would have taken, although Father M'Grath

says I may take any oath I please with what he calls heretics, and he

will grant me absolution. Peter, my dear fellow, say no more about it."

I did not; but I may as well end the history of poor Ella Flanagan at

once, as she will not appear again. About three months afterwards, we

received a letter from Father M'Grath, stating that the girl had arrived

safe, and had been a great comfort to O'Brien's father and mother, who

wished her to remain with them altogether; that Father M'Grath, had told

her that when a man took his commission as captain it was all the same

as going into a monastery as a monk, for he never could marry. The poor

girl believed him, and thinking that O'Brien was lost to her for ever,

with the advice of Father M'Grath, had entered as a nun in one of the

religious houses in Ireland, that, as she said, she might pray for him

night and day.

Many years afterwards, we heard of her--she was well, and not unhappy;

but O'Brien never forgot his behaviour to this poor girl. It was a

source of continual regret; and I believe, until the last day of his

existence, his heart smote him for his inconsiderate conduct towards

her. But I must leave this distressing topic, and return to the

_Rattlesnake_, which had now arrived at the West Indies, and joined the

Admiral at Jamaica.

[Footnote 1: The worthy priest formerly called Father O'Toole.--ED.]

Chapter XLIII

Description of the Coast of Martinique--Popped at for peeping--No

heroism in making oneself a target--Board a miniature Noah's Ark, under

Yankee colours--Capture a French slaver--Parrot soup in lieu of mock

turtle.

We found orders at Barbadoes to cruise off Martinique, to prevent

supplies being furnished to the garrison of the island, and we proceeded

there immediately. I do not know anything more picturesque than running

down the east side of this beautiful island--the ridges of hill

spreading down to the water's edge, covered with the freshest verdure,

divided at the base by small bays, with the beach of dazzling white

sand, and where the little coasting vessels employed to bring the sugar

from the neighbouring estates were riding at anchor. Each hill, at its

adjutment towards the sea, crowned with a fort, on which waved the

tri-colour--certainly, in appearance, one of the most war-like flags in

the world.

On the third morning we had rounded the Diamond Rock, and were scudding

along the lee-side of the island just opening Fort Royal bay, when

hauling rather too close round its eastern entrance, formed by a

promontory called Solomon's Point, which was covered with brush-wood, we

found ourselves nearer than agreeable to a newly constructed battery. A

column of smoke was poured along the blue water, and it was followed by

the whizzing of a shot, which passed through our boom main sail, first

cutting away the dog-vane, which was close to old Swinburne's head, as

he stood on the carronade, conning the brig. I was at dinner in the

cabin with O'Brien and the first lieutenant.

"Where the devil have they got the brig now?" said O'Brien, rising from

his chair, and going on deck.

We both followed; but before we were on deck, three or four more shot

passed between the masts. "If you please, sir," said the master's mate

in charge of the deck, whose name was O'Farrell, "the battery has opened

upon us."

"Thank you very much for your information, Mr O'Farrell," replied

O'Brien; "but the French have reported it before you. May I ask if

you've any particular fancy to be made a target of, or if you think that

His Majesty's brig _Rattlesnake_ was sent here to be riddled for nothing

at all? Starboard the helm, quartermaster."

The helm was put up, and the brig was soon run out of the fire; not,

however, until a few more shot were pitched close to us, and one carried

away the foretopmast backstay.

"Now, Mr O'Farrell," replied O'Brien, "I only wish to point out to you

that I trust neither I nor any one in this ship cares a fig about the

whizzing of a shot or two about our ears when there is anything to be

gained for it, either for ourselves or for our country; but I do care a

great deal about losing even the leg or the arm, much more the life of

any of my men, when there's no occasion for it; so, in future, recollect

it's no disgrace to keep out of the way of a battery when all the

advantage is on their side. I've always observed that chance shots pick

out the best men. Lower down the mainsail, and send the sailmakers aft

to repair it."

When O'Brien returned to the cabin I remained on deck, for it was my

afternoon watch; and although O'Farrell had permission to look out for

me, I did not choose to go down again. The bay of Fort Royal was now

opened, and the view was extremely beautiful. Swinburne was still on the

carronade; and as I knew he had been there before, I applied to him for

information as to the _locale_. He told me the names of the batteries

above the town, pointed out Fort Edward and Negro Point, and

particularly Pigeon Island, the battery at the top of which wore the

appearance of a mural crown.

"It's well I remember that place, Mr Simple," said he. "It was in '94

when I was last here. The sodgers had 'sieged it for a whole month, and

were about to give it up, 'cause they couldn't get a gun up on that 'ere

hill you see there. So poor Captain Faulkner says, 'There's many a clear

head under a tarpaulin hat, and I'll give any chap five doubloons that

will hitch up a twenty-four pounder to the top of that hill.' Not quite

so easy a matter, as you may perceive from here, Mr Simple."

"It certainly appears to me to have been almost impossible, Swinburne,"

replied I.

"And so it did to most of us, Mr Simple; but there was one Dick Smith,

mate of a transport, who had come on shore, and he steps out, saying,

'I've been looking at your men handling that gun, and my opinion is,

that if you gets a butt, crams in a carronade, well woulded up, and fill

it with old junk and rope yarns, you might parbuckle it up to the very

top.' So Captain Faulkner pulls out five doubloons, and gives them to

him, saying, 'You deserve the money for the hint, even if it don't

succeed.' But it did succeed, Mr Simple; and the next day, to their

surprise, we opened fire on the French beggars, and soon brought their

boasting down. One of the French officers, after he was taken prisoner,

axed me how we had managed to get the gun up there; but I wasn't going

to blow the gaff, so I told him, as a great secret, that we got it up

with a kite, upon which he opened all his eyes, and crying '_sacre

bleu!_' walked away, believing all I said was true; but a'n't that a

sail we have opened with the point, Mr Simple?"

It was so, and I reported it to O'Brien, who came up and gave chase. In

half an hour we were alongside of her, when she hoisted American

colours, and proved to be a brigantine laden up to her gunwale, which

was not above a foot out of the water. Her cargo consisted of what the

Americans called _notions_; that is, in English, an assorted cargo.

Half-way up her masts down to the deck were hung up baskets containing

apples, potatoes, onions, and nuts of various kinds. Her deck was

crowded with cattle, sheep, pigs, and donkeys. Below was full of

shingle, lumber, and a variety of different articles too numerous to

mention. I boarded her, and asked the master whither he was bound?