Onward across the Atlantic, as fast as her broad spread of white canvas
filled by the wind could force her, glided the staunch old
"seventy-four," which bore our hero and his fortunes, though at that
time they did not look very prosperous; nor was he himself, it must be
acknowledged, held in much consideration except by his own father and
his two worthy nurses. His fare, too, was not of the most luxurious,
nor suited to his delicate appetite. Milk there was none; and the
purser, not expecting so juvenile an addition to the ship's company, had
not provided any in a preserved state,--indeed, in those days, it may be
doubted whether such an invention had been thought of,--while a
round-shot had carried off the head of the cow in the last action in
which the _Terrible_ had been engaged. As she furnished fresh beef to
the ship's company, they would not have objected to a similar accident
happening again.
Poor Molly's child had, therefore, to be fed on flour and water, and
such slops as the doctor and the nurses could think of. They could not
have been unsuitable, for it throve wonderfully, and was pronounced by
all the ship's company as fine a child as ever was seen.
"Have you been and had a look at Molly Freeborn's baby?" asked Dick
Tarbrush of his messmate, Tom Buntline. "Do now, then. Such a pretty
young squeaker. Bless you, it'll do your heart good. He's quite a
hangel."
Similar remarks were made, one to the other, by the men; and one by one,
or sometimes a dozen of them together, would come into the women's cabin
to have a look at the baby, and then they would stand in a circle round
him, with their hands on their hips or behind them, afraid to touch it,
their pigtails stuck out as they bent down, their huge beards, and
whiskers, and pendent lovelocks forming a strong contrast to the
diminutive, delicate features of the infant, who might, notwithstanding,
one day be expected to grow up similar in all respects to one of them.
After the gale, the _Terrible_ encountered head winds, and light winds,
and calms, and baffling winds of every description, so that her passage
to the station was long delayed. It gave time, however, for the baby to
grow, and for the discussion of several knotty points connected with
him. The most knotty of them was the matter of his christening. Now,
the crew held very much the same opinion with regard to their Captain
that a certain captain held of himself, when one day he took it into his
head to make his chaplain a bishop, that of his own sovereign will he
could do all things. They knew that when there was no chaplain on
board, he could bury a grownup person, and so they thought that he
surely could christen a little infant. They accordingly, after due
deliberation, resolved to send a deputation to him, requesting him to
perform the ceremony.
After some discussion, it was agreed that it would be advisable to carry
the baby itself with them, to strengthen the force of their appeal. It
was thought better that the women should not appear; and Paul Pringle
was selected unanimously to be the bearer of the child. Now honest Paul
was a bachelor, and had literally never handled a baby in his life. He,
therefore, felt an uncommon awe and trepidation, as half unwillingly and
half proudly he undertook the office. However, at last, when coyly led
forward, with his head all on one side and a beaming smile on his honest
countenance, he found that his big paws, stretched out, made a
first-rate cradle; though, not being aware of the excessive lightness of
the little creature, he very nearly chucked it over his shoulders.
Betty and Nancy, after arranging the child's clothes, bestowing sundry
kisses, and giving several important cautions, let the party of honest
Jacks proceed on their errand.
"Well, my lads, what is it you want?" asked the Captain in a
good-natured voice, as the seamen, being announced by the sentry, made
their appearance at the door of the cabin.
Paul Pringle cleared his voice before speaking, and then he said, very
nearly choking the baby in his mechanical attempt to pull a lock of his
hair as he spoke:
"We be come for to ax your honour to make a Christian of this here
squeaker."
The good Captain looked up with his one eye, and now perceived the small
creature that Paul held in his hands.
"Ah, you mean that you want him christened, I suppose," answered the
Captain, smiling. "Well, I must see about that. Let me have a look at
the poor little fellow. He thrives well. See, he smiles already.
He'll be a credit to the ship, I hope. I'll do what I can, my lads. I
don't think that there's anything about it in the articles of war.
Still, what can be done I'll do, most assuredly."
While Captain Penrose was speaking, he was looking kindly at the infant
and playing his finger round its mouth. He had had children of his own,
and he felt as a father, though little indeed had he seen of them, and
they had all long since been taken from him.
"Now you may go, my lads, and I'll let you know what I can do for you,"
he said after some time.
On this the deputation withdrew, well pleased with their interview.
As soon as the men were gone, Captain Penrose turned to the articles of
war, and all the rules and regulations of the service with which he had
been furnished, and hunted them through, and turned them over and over
again, but could find nothing whatever about the baptism of infants.
Most assiduously he looked through his Prayer-Book: not a word could he
discover authorising captains in the navy to perform the rite. He
pulled down all the books on his shelves and hunted them over; there
were not many, certainly, but they made up by their quality and
toughness for their want of number: not a word on the subject in
question could he find. For many an hour and for many a day did he
search, for he was not a man to be baffled by a knotty point or by an
enemy for want of exertion on his part, though at last he had to confess
that in this matter he was beaten. He therefore sent for Paul Pringle,
and told him that though he could bury all the ship's company, and could
hang a mutineer at the yardarm, or could shoot him on the quarterdeck,
he had no authority, that he could find, for christening a baby. Much
disappointed, Paul returned to his shipmates. In full conclave,
therefore, it was settled, with poor Will Freeborn's consent, that as
soon as the ship reached Port Royal harbour, in Jamaica, the little
fellow should be taken on shore to be christened all shipshape and
properly. When the Captain heard of this, he gave his full consent to
the arrangement, and promised to assist in its execution.
The flag of the gallant Sir Peter Parker was flying in the harbour of
Port Royal when, after a long passage, the _Terrible_ fired the usual
salute on entering, and dropped her anchor there. Two or three days
elapsed before the duty of the ship would allow any of the crew to go on
shore. On the first Sunday morning, however, it was notified that a
hundred of them might have six hours' leave, and that if the infant was
presented, after morning service, before the minister of one of the
parish churches, he would perform the wished-for ceremony. Great were
the preparations which had been made. Betty Snell and Nancy Bolton were
dressed out with shawls, and furbelows, and ribbons of the gayest
colours and patterns, and looked and thought themselves very fine.
Nothing could surpass the magnificence of the child's robe. All the
knowledge of embroidery possessed by the whole ship's company had been
expended on it, and every chest and bag had been ransacked to find
coloured beads and bits of silk and worsted and cotton of different hues
to work on it. The devices were curious. There were anchors and cables
twisting about all over it, and stars and guns, and there was a
full-rigged ship in front; while a little straw hat, which had been
plaited and well lined, was stuck on the child's head in the most
knowing of ways, with the name of the _Terrible_ worked in gold letters
on a ribbon round it. Certainly, however, nothing could be more
inappropriate than the name to the little smiling infant thus adorned.
Never had such a dress been worn before by any baby ashore or afloat.
Then his shipmates took care that Will Freeborn himself should be in
unusually good trim, and they got him to let Nancy Bolton dress his
pigtail, while Sergeant Bolton stood by, and got him into conversation;
and as for Paul Pringle, he turned out in first-rate style, and so did
two of Freeborn's messmates and especial chums, Peter Ogle and Abel
Bush, both first-rate seamen. All the men who had leave, indeed, rigged
out in their best, and adorned themselves to the utmost of their power.
The boatswain, also, got them a dozen flags, which they hoisted on
boathooks and other small spars; and they had on board, besides, a
one-legged black fiddler, and a sort of amateur band, all of whom were
allowed to accompany them.
On shore early on Sunday morning they went, and marshalled as they
landed from the boats which conveyed them on the quays of Kingston. The
one-legged black fiddler, Sam, being the only professional, and the
rated musician on board, claimed the honour of leading the way, followed
by the rest of the band with their musical instruments. Then came the
father of the baby, Will Freeborn, supported on either side by Paul
Pringle and Peter Ogle, who each bore a flag on a staff; and next, Betty
Snell, to whom had been awarded the honour of carrying the important
personage of the day; and on one side of her walked Nancy Bolton, and on
the other Abel Bush, one of the three proposed godfathers, with another
flag. In consequence of the numberless chances of war, it had been
agreed that the child should have three godfathers and two godmothers;
besides which, each of the godfathers was to have a mate who was to take
his place in case of his death, and to assist Freeborn in looking after
his son, so that there was every probability of poor Molly's son being
well taken care of. These, then, came next, bearing aloft an ensign and
a Union-Jack, while the rest of the crew, with more flags, rolling
along, made up the remainder of the procession.
But the person who created the greatest sensation among the spectators,
especially of his own colour, was Sam Smatch, the one-legged fiddler;
nor did he deem himself to be the least in importance. No one was in
higher feather. He felt himself at home in the country--the hot climate
suited him; he saw numbers of his own race and hue, inclined, like
himself, to be merry and idle. How he grinned and rolled his eyes about
on every side--how he scraped away with his bow--how he kicked up his
wooden leg and cut capers which few people, even with two, could have
performed as well! As to the rest of the band, he beat them hollow. In
vain they tried to play. If they played fast, he played faster; when
they played loud, he played louder; for, as he used to boast, his
instrument was a very wonderful one, and there were not many which could
come up to it. The crowd of negroes who collected from every side to
stare at the procession, admired him amazingly, and cheered, and
shrieked, and laughed, and clapped their hands in gleeful approbation of
his performance.
Thus the procession advanced through the streets of Kingston till it
reached the church door, it wanted still some time to the commencement
of service, so the men were enabled to take their seats at one end of
the building without creating any disturbance. There was plenty of room
for them, for unhappily the proprietors, merchants and attorneys, the
managers of estates and other residents, were very irregular attendants
at places of worship. The few people who did collect for worship stared
with surprise at seeing so unusual a number of sailors collected
together; and more so when the service was over, to see Paul Pringle,
acting as best man, lead his friend Freeborn, and the two nurses, and
the rest of his shipmates, up to the font.
The clergyman had been warned by the clerk what to expect, or he would
have been equally astonished.
"What is it you want, my good people?" he asked.
"Why, bless your honour, we wants this here young chap, as belongs, I
may say, to the old _Terrible_, seeing as how he was born aboard of her,
made into a regular shipshape Christian."
"Oh, I see," said the minister, smiling; "I will gladly do as you wish.
You have got godfathers and a godmother, I suppose?"
"Oh, Lord bless your honour, there are plenty on us!" answered Paul,
feeling his bashfulness wear off in consequence of the minister's kind
manner. "There's myself, Paul Pringle, quartermaster, at your honour's
service; and there's Peter Ogle, captain of the foretop, and Abel Bush,
he's captain of the fo'castle; and then, d'ye see, we've each of us our
mates to take command if any of us loses the number of our mess; and
then as there's the two godmothers Nancy and Betty, right honest good
women, the little chap won't fare badly, d'ye see, your honour."
"Indeed, you come rather over-well provided in that respect," observed
the minister, having no little difficulty in refraining from laughing.
"However, I should think that you would find two godfathers and one
godmother, the usual number, sufficient to watch over the religious
education of the child."
"No, your honour," answered Paul quietly; "I'll just ax you what you
thinks the life of any one of us is worth, when you reflexes on the
round-shot and bullets of the enemy, the fever,--`Yellow Jack,' as we
calls him,--and the hurricanes of these here seas? Who can say that
one-half of us standing here may be alive this time next year? We
sailors hold our lives riding at single anchor. We know at any moment
we may have to slip our cable and be off."
The clergyman looked grave and bowed his head.
"You speak too sad a truth," he answered. "Now tell me, what name do
you propose giving to the child?"
"Billy, your honour," answered Paul at once.
"William?--oh, I understand," observed the clergyman.
"No, Billy, your honour," persisted Paul. "Billy True Blue, that's the
name we've concluded to give him. It's the properest, and rightest, and
most convenient, and it's the name he must have," he added firmly.
"But what is the father's name? What is your name, my man?" asked the
clergyman, turning to Freeborn.
Will told him.
"Oh, then I understand Billy True Blue is to be his Christian name?"
said the clergyman.
"Yes, your honour," answered Paul. "D'ye see, he'd always be called
Billy. That would be but natural-like. Then where's the use of calling
him William? And True Blue he is, for he was born at sea aboard a
man-o'-war, and he'll be brought up at sea among men-o'-war's men; and
he'll be a right true blue seaman himself one of these days, if he
lives, so there's an end on the matter."
The last remark was intended as a clincher to settle the affair. The
clergyman had no further objections to offer to the arguments brought
forward, and accordingly the child was then and there christened "Billy
True Blue," to the infinite satisfaction of all his friends.
On leaving the church, the party adjourned to various houses of
entertainment to drink their young shipmate's health. Much to their
credit, at the time appointed they reappeared on board, returning to the
quay in the style they had come, none of them the worse for liquor.
Captain Penrose had reason to be satisfied with his system of managing
his ship's company.