We took the _Xantippe_ home--the _Indomptable_ went to the bottom of
the Bay of Biscay--but before our prize-money was settled up, we were
off again; Sir Peter dearly loved cruising in blue water. It was near
two years before we got back to England to spend that prize-money; for,
except the captain and Mr. Buxton and some of the married officers, I
know of no one who saved any. Sir Peter, I understood afterward, spent
much of his in a diamond necklace and tiara for Lady Hawkshaw, in which
he was most egregiously cheated by a Portuguese money-lender, and the
balance he put into a scheme for acclimating elephants in England,
which was to make him as rich as Crœsus; but he lost a thousand pounds
on the venture, besides his prize-money. In those two years I grew
more and more fond of Giles Vernon. We generally contrived to have
our watch together, and we were intimate as only shipmates could be.
He talked much of what he meant to do when he got ashore with money
to spend, and assured me he had never had above twenty pounds of his
own in his life. In the course of many nights spent in standing watch
together, when the old _Ajax_ was sailing like a witch,--for she was a
capital sailer at that time,--he told me much about his early youth,
and I confided to him the story of Betty Green. Giles’ career had been
the common one of the younger branches of a good family. His father
had been a clergyman, and, dying, left several daughters, who married
respectably, and this one son, who was put in the sea-service very
young. At that time, several lives stood between Giles and the title
and estates of Sir Thomas Vernon, and other lives stood between Giles
and Overton; but those had passed away, leaving these two distant
kinsmen as heirs to a man that seemed rightfully to have earned his
title of “wicked Sir Thomas.” I asked Giles if he knew why Sir Thomas,
who so cordially hated his heirs, had never married. Giles replied that
Sir Thomas showed no inclination to marry until he was near forty. Then
his reputation was so well established that he was generally looked
askant upon; his character for truth was bad and at cards was worse.
But he had induced a lady of rank and wealth to become engaged to be
married to him. His treatment of her was so infamous that her whole
family had declared war against him, and had succeeded in breaking off
several very desirable alliances he would have liked to make. Of course
a man of his rank and wealth could find some woman--alas!--to take him;
but Sir Thomas was bent on money, with an inclination toward rank,
and was the last man on earth to marry unless he had a substantial
inducement; and several more years had passed without his being able
to effect the sort of marriage he desired. Meanwhile, his health had
broken down, and he was now a shattered man and prey for the doctors.
All this was very interesting to me, especially as Sir Thomas’ two
heirs would one day have the experience of shooting at each other, and
possibly deciding the matter of heirship by the elimination of one or
the other from the question.
We both got promotion, of course, and that brought us into the
gun-room; but we were as intimate there as in our reefer days in the
cockpit. On a glorious October morning in 1799, our anchor kissed the
ground in Portsmouth harbor.
When we reached Portsmouth, the news of our good fortune had
preceded us, and we were welcomed with open arms by men, women, and
children--especially the women. All the prize-money brought back by any
single ship during the war was insignificant compared with ours. The
men were seized with a kind of madness for spending their money. The
spectacle of an ordinary seaman parading the streets of Portsmouth with
a gold-laced hat, a gold-headed stick, and watches and jewelry hung all
over him was common enough, and he was sure to be an _Ajax_ man. Sad to
say, the pimps, and the worst class of men and women soon got the money
away from our poor fellows.
The officers, in their way, were but little behind the men in their
lavishness. Champagne was their common drink, and several of them
invested in coaches!--the last thing they would ever have a chance of
using.
Giles Vernon, although the most wasteful and profuse man I ever saw,
desired to spend his money in London, Portsmouth being too small a
theater for him. But the pressing affair of the satisfaction he owed
Captain Overton had to be settled. After much hard thinking, Giles came
to me on the day after we reached Portsmouth, and said,--
“Dicky boy, read this letter and give me your opinion of it.”