CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

Peace--known as the Peace of Amiens--was concluded in 1801; and though

England called in her cruisers, prohibiting them any longer to burn,

sink, and destroy those of her enemies, she wisely declined drawing her

own teeth or cutting her claws, by dismantling her ships and disbanding

her crews, but, like a good-natured lion, crouched down, wagging her

tail and sucking her paws, while, turning her eyes round and round, she

carefully watched the turn affairs were likely to take.

Never had more ships been seen arriving day after day at Spithead, and

never had Portsmouth Harbour been fuller of others fitting and refitting

for sea, or its streets more crowded with seamen laughing, dancing,

singing, and committing all sorts of extravagances, and flinging their

well-earned money about with the most reckless prodigality.

About this time, while Portsmouth was in the heyday of its uproarious

prosperity, and prize-money was as plentiful as blackberries in summer,

a man-of-war's eight-oared cutter was seen pulling in from Spithead, and

then, entering the harbour, making for the Gosport shore. There was

nothing unusual in this, or rather it was an event not only of daily but

of hourly occurrence.

There were two officers in the sternsheets; but their simple uniform

showed that they were not of any high rank, though the crew paid them

the most profound respect. They were young men, though beards,

pigtails, and lovelocks, with thoroughly weatherbeaten, sunburnt

countenances, made them look somewhat older. One had a silver chain

round his neck, with a call or whistle attached to it, which showed that

he was a boatswain.

As they stepped on shore, the crew threw up their oars, and with one

voice shouted, "We wish you every happiness--that we do, sir, from our

hearts! Three cheer for the boatswain! Hip! hip! hip! hurrah!"

"Thank you, lads," said the young boatswain, turning round with a

pleasant smile on his countenance. "We have served long and happily

together, and done some things to be proud of; and I tell you that I

would rather be boatswain of such a crew as you are, than Captain of

many I have fallen in with. Come up here and have a parting glass! I

know that I can trust you to go back to the ship, as you promised; for

it's one of many things to be proud of, to be able to say that we never

knew a man to run from our ship."

The two warrant-officers were accompanied by an old black man with a

wooden leg, who stumped along, aided by a stick, as fast as they could

walk; while a couple of seamen followed with huge painted canvas bags on

their shoulders, and various foreign-looking things hung about outside.

They themselves carried a couple of birdcages and two parrots; and a

mischievous-looking monkey sat on the black's shoulder, another parrot

being perched on the top of his hat, and a fiddle-case hung over his

neck. They soon got out of Gosport into the country.

"Stay, Harry!" said the elder of the officers; "Paul wrote that we were

to steer west by north, and that if we stood on under easy sail for half

a glass, we should just fetch Paradise Row. Now here we are, with the

sun right astern; let's have the proper bearings of the place."

True Blue--for he was the young boatswain who had been speaking--looked

at the sun, and then, turning himself round, in a few seconds seemed to

make up his mind that they were proceeding in the right direction.

"I feel uncommonly inclined to set more canvas; and yet we mustn't quit

our convoy," he remarked as he moved on.

"No, that wouldn't do," answered his friend, Harry Hartland. "Come,

heave ahead, my hearties!" he added, looking back at the seamen carrying

the bags; "and you, Sam, shall we lend you a leg, old boy?"

"Tank'ee, gunner--a grand new cork one, if you like!" answered Sam,

grinning and chuckling at his joke; "but ye see my timber one will serve

me, I tink, till I'm laid under hatches. But I no wonder Billy in a

hurry to go along--ha! ha! ha! I call de fine grand bo'sun Billy now

again, jes as I did when he was one little chap aboard de old

_Terrible_. We off service, you know! I once more free man! Out-door

Greenwich pensioner! What more I want?--plenty to eat, nothing to do!

I go wid you and play at your wedding, True Blue--ha! ha! ha! Fancy I,

Sam Smatch, play at Billy True's wedding--once little chap born aboard

de _Terrible_, and often nurse in de old nigger's arms."

"And right glad I am to have you by me, Sam," answered True Blue,

looking kindly at the negro. "You took good care of me--that I'm sure

of--when I was a baby, and we've weathered many a storm together since

in all parts of the world. There's scarcely a friend I should be more

sorry to miss at my wedding than you, if wedding there is to be; but it

is so long since I heard from home, that who can tell what has

happened?"

"Ah, yes--Mary Ogle gone and married some oder sailor maybe! Dat is

what dey petticoat women often do," said Sam with a wink, sticking his

thumb towards the boatswain's ribs.

"No, no. No fear of that, at all events!" exclaimed True Blue

vehemently. "You didn't suppose that I meant that. But how can we tell

that all our friends are alive and well?" he said gravely, and was

silent for a minute. "However," he added in a cheerful tone, "I have no

fears that all will be right, and that, before many evenings are over,

we shall have you fingering your fiddlestick as merrily as ever."

So they went on, cheerfully talking as they proceeded towards Paradise

Row, which, in truth, True Blue hoped would prove a Paradise to him; for

there, since Paul, and Abel, and Peter, had become warrant-officers,

their respective families had come to reside, to be near them when they

came into port.

They, however, had now charge of different ships in ordinary; and as

they had all gone through a great deal of service, they did not expect

to be again sent to sea.

Old Mrs Pringle was still alive and well when True Blue had last heard

from home, and to her house he and his shipmates were now bound. Still,

as they went along, True Blue could not help looking into all the

windows of the various cottages they passed, just to ascertain if that

was the one inhabited by his dear old granny or not.

At last he turned to Harry. "I think, mate, we have run our distance,"

he observed; "we ought to be in the latitude of Paradise Row by this

time. I'll just step up to that pretty little cottage there and ask.

Here, Harry, just hold Chatterbox, please."

Suiting the action to the word, having given his parrot to his friend,

up to the cottage he went. It had a porch in front of it, covered with

jasmine, and a neat verandah, and was altogether a very tasty though

unpretending little abode. He rapped at the door with a

strangely-carved shark's tooth which he held in his hand. After waiting

a little time, the door was opened, and, without looking directly at the

person who opened it, he began, "Please, marm, does Mrs Pringle live

hereabouts?" Then, suddenly he was heard to exclaim, "What--it is--

Mary, Mary!"

What more he said his friends did not hear, for the door was nearly

closed as he sprang into the house. However, both Harry and Sam were

very discreet people, and they had heard enough to show them that their

presence could easily be dispensed with; so, as there was a nice grassy

bank under a widespreading tree, they, with the two seamen carrying the

bags, and the monkey and the parrots, went and sat down there to wait

till the boatswain might recollect that there were such beings in

existence.

Harry felt very glad that his friend was likely to be so happy, and old

Sam amused himself with scratching the monkey's head, making him hang by

his tail, and jump over his own wooden leg, while the seamen went to

sleep with their heads on the bags. Sam was the first to grow tired of

his amusement, and, getting up, he stumped up towards the cottage and

peeped over the neat white blind of the front window.

He came back grinning and chuckling. "All right," he said. "Him bery

happy--no tink of us yet, I guess."

Whether or not the apparition of Sam's black visage had been seen does

not appear; but in a short time True Blue came to the door of the

cottage, looking as happy and lighthearted as a fellow could look, and,

hailing his friends, asked them to step in.

Mrs Ogle was there, and Mary, and a younger sister very like her; but

Peter was aboard his ship, a seventy-four, in Portsmouth Harbour; and

Mary and her sister, and their mother, shook hands heartily with Sam,

because he was an old acquaintance, and with Harry, because he was True

Blue's brother officer. And then True Blue told Harry that Mrs Ogle

could put him up, and would be right glad to do so; and then that he

could take Sam to Mrs Pringle's, so that they should have him always to

play to them; which were very pleasant arrangements, and seemed to give

infinite satisfaction to all parties concerned. It was extraordinary

how long it took to get under weigh again; but at last True Blue, with

his bags and some of his treasures, did find his way to his adopted

grandmother's, and a warm welcome did the dear old lady give him, and

did not scold him in the least for inquiring first at Mrs Ogle's where

she lived, seeing that he did not know when he went to the door that it

was Mrs Ogle's.

Sam and the monkey, and two of the parrots, with the cage birds, took up

their residence at Mrs Pringle's. True Blue, accompanied by Harry,

paid a visit to Mrs Bush and her family; and the whole party assembled,

as they had done several years before, at Mrs Ogle's, which had

certainly the handsomest room in it, and Sam Smatch brought his fiddle;

and a very merry evening they had, the only drawback being that the

three elder warrant-officers were unable to be present, as their duties

kept them on board their ships.

They had tea and cakes, and bread and butter, and preserves, and

water-cresses; and then Sam screwed up his fiddle, and to work went his

bow, his head nodding and his timber toe beating time, while he played

the merriest of all merry country-dances and the most vehement of

hornpipes.

True Blue had not danced a hornpipe for many a long year,--it would not

have been dignified while he was a boatswain,--but he had not forgotten

how to do so. That he very soon showed, to the satisfaction of all

present, especially to that of Mary, and not a little to that of Sam

Smatch, who, in defiance of all the rules of etiquette, kept shouting,

"Bravo, Billy--well done, Billy--keep at it, boy! I taught him, dat I

did--dat's it. I played de first tune to him he ever danced to. Bravo,

Billy! You do my heart good--dat you do. Hurray! hurray! Billy True

Blue for ever in dancing a hornpipe!"

As the dancing could not last all the evening, the parrots and the

monkey and a considerable portion of the contents of the bags were

brought in to be exhibited, and, as it proved, to be distributed among

the owner's old friends.

True Blue had given his cage full of birds to Mrs Pringle, as he knew

she would prize it; he had, however, gifts especially brought for Mrs

Bush and all her family, as well as for Mrs Ogle, and for several other

friends not so intimately related to him as they were; and he found that

they were the means of affording infinite satisfaction to all parties.

The first thing the next morning, after breakfast, the young

warrant-officers set off to pay their respects to the three old

warrant-officers in Portsmouth Harbour, on board the _Jupiter_, _Lion_,

and _Portland_, seventy-fours.

Paul Pringle was, of course, the first visited, His pipe was shrilly

sounding as ponderous yards and coils of rope and casks and guns and

gun-carriages and other innumerable fittings and gear of a ship were

being hoisted up and lowered into lighters alongside, to convey them to

the dockyard. His delight at seeing True Blue as he stepped on deck was

so great that he forgot to pipe "Belay," and a twenty-four pounder would

have been run up to the yardarm had not his godson instinctively

supplied the omission with his own pipe, though, when Harry afterwards

informed him of the fact, he was not in the slightest degree aware that

he had done so.

As Paul was then so very busy, they promised to return at dinner time,

and went on to see Peter Ogle. It was remarked, however, that Paul did

not for the remainder of the forenoon carry on his duties with his usual

exactness, and seemed far more elated and excitable than was his wont.

Peter Ogle's pleasure at seeing True Blue was only surpassed by that of

Paul. He received his old friends in his cabin, which, as True Blue

glanced round it, showed that a considerable amount of feminine taste

had been exercised in its adornment.

"Make yourselves at home, my lads--brother officers, I should say,

though," he said, glancing at their uniforms, "It is a pleasure to see

you, Billy, my dear boy, and you too, Harry, though I haven't known you

by some fifteen years or more so long as True Blue. Boy, bring glasses.

Here's some real honest schiedam, taken out of a Dutch prize. Help

yourselves. You neither of you are topers, I know; so much the better.

And now let's hear what you've been about since I last clapped eyes on

you."

True Blue on this gave a rapid account of their doings in the _Rover_

after the _Gannet_ had sailed for England, and of numerous adventures

which had subsequently befallen them before they once more returned

home.

After a visit paid to Abel Bush, who welcomed them home as cordially as

their other old friends had done, they returned to dine with Paul

Pringle.

"And, True Blue, my boy, how soon is it to come off?" inquired Paul when

dinner was over. "Have you asked Mary to fix the day yet?"

"No, godfather; I thought she might rather wish to wait a bit, and so I

wasn't going to ask her for a day or two," answered True Blue

ingenuously.

"Don't put it off, lad," said Paul. "When a sailor meets a girl to

love, the shorter the wooing and the sooner he weds the better. How

does he know what moment he may have to heave up his anchor and make

sail round the world again?"

True Blue very willingly promised to follow his godfather's advice; and

Harry, who was listening attentively, thought it excellent. As may be

supposed, before the evening was over, the day was settled for True

Blue's wedding with Mary Ogle; and before a week had passed, Harry

announced that her sister Susan had fixed the same day to marry him.

Close to Mrs Ogle's residence was a barn of large dimensions; it was

not a picturesque building, but the floor was smooth, and that was all

they required. In a wonderfully short space of time, with the aid of

flags innumerable, wreaths of flowers, and painted canvas, it was

converted into a most elegant edifice, fit for a ball or supper room.

The morning of True Blue's wedding day arrived, and up to Dame Pringle's

door drove a postchaise with four horses, out of which stepped Sir Henry

Elmore, now, as his full-dress uniform showed, a Post-Captain. He shook

hands right cordially with True Blue and all his friends, and the bells

of the parish church at that moment set up so merry and joyous a peal

that it was evident the ringers believed that it was an occasion of much

happiness.

Carriages sufficient to carry all the party now began to collect in the

neighbourhood of Paradise Row; and Sam Smatch and Tom Marline, both of

whom had got leave to come on shore, were very busy in fastening huge

white favours and bunches of flowers to the coats of the party.

"Come, Freeborn, with me in my carriage," said Sir Henry. "I have

fulfilled my promise in being present at your marriage, and must beg to

stand as your best man, and see that you behave properly; but boarding a

Frenchman at the head of a dozen daring fellows, though opposed to a

hundred or more, is a very different matter to standing before the

altar, about to take a wife for better or for worse to the end of life."

"So I was thinking, Sir Henry," answered True Blue, smiling. "And do

you know, that if it wasn't Mary Ogle I was going to marry, I shouldn't

like it at all."

"All right, then, my friend; you'll do," said the baronet. "Step into

the carriage."

The favours being distributed, Tom Marline mounted the coach-box of the

first carriage, in which were Mary Ogle and her father and mother,

carrying in his hands a long pole with a huge flag, on which was

inscribed, "True Blue for ever! Hurrah for our own Billy True Blue!"

Tim Fid mounted, as he said, the fo'castle of the next carriage, in

which came Mrs Bush and Susan, with Harry, who declared that he didn't

fancy the custom of following in different vehicles, as great folks did.

On Fid's banner was the device of a ship, with "Hurrah for the Navy of

Old England! Hurrah for her Gunners, Past, Present, and Future!"

On the box of the third carriage sat Sam Smatch, fiddle in hand, playing

away most lustily, and occasionally firing off a bow or stern-chaser of

jokes at the other carriages with a peculiar loud cackling laugh which

none but negroes can produce.

Nobody could have behaved better than did the brides and bridegrooms;

and when the ceremony was over, the bells set up a peal even more joyous

than before. Instead of driving back to Paradise Row, the carriages

proceeded to the harbour; and then at the Hard appeared half a dozen

man-of-war's boats, rigged gaily with flags. Sir Henry handed Mrs

Billy True Blue Freeborn into one boat, and Mrs Harry Hartland into

another, and of course their husbands stepped in after them; and then he

performed the same office to all the elder matrons and their younger

daughters; and then wishing them all health, happiness, and prosperity,

he entered his own boat and pulled across to Portsmouth.

The three godfathers and their mates stepped into another boat, and Sam

Smatch and the younger men into the sixth; and thus arranged, away the

boats pulled, Sam playing right lustily his merriest tunes. True Blue's

boat led, steering up the harbour, where lay Paul's and Abel's and

Peter's ships. As they passed, the people on board came to the side,

and cheered over and over again with all their might and main, making up

by the vehemence and multiplicity of their vociferations for the paucity

of their numbers.

True Blue and Harry got up and cheered too, and so did the matrons in

the third boat; and the godfathers made the seventy-fours a speech--it

sounded as if addressed to the ships rather than to the people on board.

Of course the men in the other boats cheered, and Sam almost sprang his

bow with the vehemence of his playing; but all this was as nothing

compared to the reception the bridal party met with as they reached True

Blue's and Harry's own ship.

Up and down the harbour pulled the bridal squadron; and the crews of

every ship, as they passed, took up the cheer and welcomed the

bridegroom, for True Blue and his deeds were now well-known throughout

the British fleet. He had not aimed high, in one sense of the word, and

yet he had in another sense always aimed high and nobly--to _do his

duty_.

Right well that duty he had done; he had gained all he desired, and

never was there a happier or more contented man.

No pen can do adequate justice to the ball in the barn in the evening.

Never were so many warrant-officers collected together with their wives

and their families; and never, certainly, had such an amount of gilt

buttons and gold lace, and silk and satins and feathers, been seen in

such a place. A crashing band overwhelmed Sam Smatch's fiddle; but he,

for his consolation, was requested to play frequent solos; and he far

out-eclipsed himself when he struck up "Bill's own special hornpipe," as

he called it, which, _nolens volens_, True Blue was compelled to dance.

If the bridegrooms made a tour, it must have been a very short one, as

their leave could not have extended to many days. For a short time they

lived on shore, when their ship was paid off; but war soon called them

afloat.

True Blue had a numerous family of sons, every one of whom served his

country afloat, all becoming warrant-officers; while their sons again,

from their intelligence and steady conduct, although they entered before

the mast, obtained the same rank.

True Blue himself, who lived to enjoy a hearty and hale old age, gave

the same advice to his grandchildren which he received from Paul

Pringle.

"Lads," he used to say, "be content with your lot. Do your duty in

whatever station you are placed, on the quarterdeck or fo'castle, in the

tops aloft or at the guns on the main or lower-deck, and leave the rest

to God. Depend on it, if you obey His standing orders, if you steer

your course by the chart and compass He has provided for you, and fight

your ship manfully, He will give you the victory."

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