I had been fidgeting all the time the old gentleman was speaking
squeezing Dad's hand in order to attract his attention and make him tell
me who his old friend was; but, for the moment, he was too much taken up
with the veteran's hearty greeting to give ear to me.
At last, however, in response to another squeeze of my hand, he bent
down towards me, expecting, no doubt, some such inquiry.
"Who is it, Dad?" I whispered, dying with curiosity. "Who is it?"
"Admiral Sir Charles Napier, Jack," he replied, under his breath, "late
commander-in-chief of the Baltic Fleet."
I doffed my cap at once, for I had often heard my father mention the
name of the gallant old sailor before, though I hardly expected to see
him in such a guise.
"Hullo, who've we got here?" cried the Admiral, noticing my action and
patting my head in recognition of the salute with his snuffy palm.
"Your son, Vernon, eh?"
"Yes, Admiral," said Dad, "this is my boy, Jack."
"Ha! humph! He's a smart-looking youngster, Vernon, and the very image
of what you were at his age! How old is he?"
"Nearly fourteen now, sir," answered my father. "I'm afraid, though,
Master Jack is rather a small boy for his years, being short and
thick-set."
"Not a serious fault that, Vernon. He'll, be able to go aloft more
nimbly than any of those lamp-post sort of chaps with long legs, who
always trip themselves up in the ratlines. Look at me, youngster, I'm
not a big man, and yet I've not been the worse sailor on that account, I
think!"
"True, Sir Charles," replied Dad with a sly twinkle in his eye, "but
we're not all of the same tough stock and `ready--ay, ready' on all
occasions when wanted, though we might be willing enough, to do our
duty."
"Gammon, Vernon, none of your blarney!" growled out the old sea-lion,
pretending to be angry, albeit he looked pleased at Dad's covert
allusion to the Napier motto, which he had always endeavoured to act up
to. "I'm sick of false compliments, old shipmate. I've had plenty of
them and to spare from those mealy-mouthed, false-hearted, longshore
lubbers in there!"
"What!" exclaimed my father, as the Admiral jerked his head with an
expression of contempt in the direction of the club-house he had just
left--"you don't mean to say, sir--"
"Ay! but I do mean to say they're a lot of confounded hypocrites, by
George!" roared out the old sailor, his face flushing to almost a purple
hue, while he snatched at another handful of snuff from his waistcoat
pocket, and sniffed and snorted like a grampus. "Why, you'll hardly
believe it, Vernon! But, only a couple of years ago, when I was
starting for the Baltic, and in high favour with the ministry, those
miserable time-servers in there gave a public dinner in my honour in
that very club; and now, by George! because things did not go all right,
and I wasn't able to smash-up the Russian fleet as everybody expected I
would do, and so I would have done, too, by George! if I'd been allowed
my own way, the mean-spirited parasites almost cut me to a man--to a
man, by George!"
"It's a rascally shame, sir," said my father, getting hot with righteous
indignation in sympathy at this scurvy treatment of one whom he had
served under, and looked upon as an honoured chief; while I felt so
angry myself, that I should have liked to have gone up the steps of the
club-house there and then, and dragged down from his proud post the fat,
red-liveried porter who was looking down on the veteran from the top of
the stairway, regarding that pampered menial as the cause and occasion
of the slight of which he complained. "Never mind, though, Admiral! you
can well afford to treat their mean conduct with the contempt it
deserves; for everybody whose opinion is worth anything knows that Sir
Charles Napier won his laurels as a brave and skilful commander long
before the Reform Club was founded or the Crimean war thought of.
Believe me, sir, history will yet do you justice."
"Ay! when I've gone to my last muster," growled out the old fellow
huskily, in a sad tone, which sent a responsive chill to my heart.
"But, that won't be your fault, Vernon. Thank you, my lad, I know
you're not talking soft solder, so as to get to wind'ard of me, like
those fellows in there. Longshore lubbers like those never recollect
what a man may have done for his country in times gone by. They live
only in the present; and, if a chap chances to make a mistake, as the
best of us will sometimes, they fall on him like a pack of curs on a
rat, and worry him to death, by George!"
"The idle gossip of the clubs need not affect you, sir," replied my
father consolingly. "Not a man in England of any sense is ignorant of
the fact that it is none of your fault that the Baltic Fleet was sent
out on a wild-goose chase and failed to capture Cronstadt and annihilate
the Russian ships inside that stronghold; though, I believe, you would
have astonished old Nick if you had been allowed a free hand!"
"Humph! I don't know about that, Vernon, but I'd have tried to," said
the Admiral, smiling. The next minute, however, he knit his shaggy
eyebrows and looked so fierce that the thought occurred to me that I
would not have liked just then to be in the position of defaulter
brought up before him on his quarter-deck and awaiting condign
punishment; for, he went on growling away angrily, as the recollections
of the past surged up in his mind. "By George! it makes my blood boil,
Vernon, as I think of it now. How could I succeed out there when those
nincompoops at home in the Ministry did not want me to do anything but
play their miserable shilly-shally game of drifting with the tide and
doing nothing! I was told I wasn't to do this and I wasn't to do that,
while all the time that cute old fox the Czar Nicholas was completing
his preparations. Why, would you believe it, Vernon, there wasn't a
single long-winded despatch sent out to me by the Cabinet that did not
countermand the one that came before?"
Dad laughed cheerily, trying to make the old sailor forget his wrongs.
"Even the immortal Nelson would have been unable to do anything under
such conditions, Sir Charles," he said, as the Admiral paused to take
breath, sniffing up another handful of snuff with an angry snort.
"Those jacks in office at home are always interfering with things they
know nothing about. How can they possibly have the means at their
command like the man on the scene of action, one whom they themselves
have selected for his supposed capacity? But, they will interfere, sir.
They have always done so; and always will, I suppose!"
"Gad, you put it better than I could, Vernon. I didn't think you such a
smart sea lawyer," said the old Admiral, rather grimly, not
over-pleased, I think, at Dad's taking up the burthen of his grievances.
"Know nothing, you say? Of course they know nothing, the government,
hang it! was a cabinet of nincompoops, I tell you--Aberdeen, Graham and
the whole lot of 'em! If they could have mustered a single statesman
amongst 'em who had pluck enough to tell Russia at the outset that if
she laid hands on Turkey we should have considered it an ultimatum,
there would never have been any war at all--the Emperor Nicholas
confessed as much on his death-bed. It was all want of backbone that
did it--not of the English nation, thank God! but of the government or
ministry of the time. Some governments we've had, ay, and since then,
too, Vernon, have been the curse of our country!"
"Ay, Admiral," responded my father, heartily, "I know that well!"
"Yes, they were all shilly-shally from first to last," continued the old
sailor, warming up to his theme. "Why, when the Russians actually fired
on our flag--the Union Jack of England, sir, that had never previously
been insulted with impunity--they actually blamed me for returning the
fire, and recalled me for it! I tell you what it is, Vernon, they were
all a pack of pusillanimous time-servers, frightened at their own
shadows; and, between you and me and the bedpost, that chap, Jimmy
Graham, our precious late First Lord of the Admiralty, knew as much
about a ship as a Tom cat does of logarithms, by George!"
Dad smiled at his vehemence, and I chuckled audibly; the Admiral's
simile seeming very funny to me.
The old sailor patted me on the head approvingly.
"Ay, you may well laugh, youngster," said he, looking very fierce with
his knitted eyebrows, though speaking to me good-naturedly enough. "The
whole business would make a cat laugh were it not so humiliating, by
George! But, avast there! let us drop it; for we've had enough of it by
now and to spare. Things, though, were very different, Vernon, when you
and I sailed together. I tell you what it is, my lad, the service is
going to the devil, that's what it is!"
"By Jove! you're right, sir, I quite agree with you there," chorused Dad
with much effusion, speaking evidently from the bottom of his heart.
"Everything is changed, Admiral, to what we were accustomed to in the
good old times when I had the luck to serve under you; and, I'm afraid,
sir, we'll never see such times again. There's no chance for a poor
fellow like me nowadays at the Admiralty as I know to my cost! No one
has an opening given him unless he's acquainted with some bigwig with a
handle to his name, or knows the Secretary's niece, or the chief
messenger's aunt. Otherwise, he may as well whistle for the moon as ask
for a ship!"
"That's true enough, Vernon, by George!" said the Admiral, with equal
heat. "Interest with the Board is everything in these times, and
personal merit nothing! You may be the smartest sailor that ever trod a
quarter-deck and they will look askance at you at Whitehall; but, only
get some Lord Tom Noddy to back up your claims on an ungrateful country
or show those Admiralty chaps that you know a Member of Parliament or
two, and can control a division in the House of Commons, then, by
George! it is wonderful, Vernon, how suddenly the great Mister Secretary
of the Board will recognise your previously unknown abilities and other
good qualities to which he has hitherto been blind, and how anxious the
First Lord will be to promote you--eh, Vernon, you rascal? Ho! ho! ho!"
Dad joined in the hearty roar of laughter, with which the Admiral ended
his sarcastic comments, the recital of which had apparently eased his
mind and banished the last lingering recollections of the ill-treatment
he had received at the hands of the government; for the old sailor now
dismissed the subject, going on to talk about old shipmates and other
matters as they sauntered onwards along Pall Mall, the Admiral hobbling
on one side of Dad and I on the other, holding his hand, listening
eagerly all the while to their animated conversation and taking in every
word of it. I confess, however, I could not understand all their
allusions to old times and byegone events afloat and ashore, many of the
names and incidents mentioned in their talk being altogether unfamiliar
to my ears.
"Where are you off to now, Vernon?" inquired Admiral Napier, stopping to
take snuff again when we arrived at the last lamp-post at the corner
abutting on Waterloo Place. "If you're not otherwise engaged, come back
with me and have lunch at the club, you and the youngster."
"Thank you very much, Admiral," returned Dad, "I would be only to glad,
but, to tell the truth, I'm bound for the Admiralty."
"Ah! you want to see Mister Secretary just after he has finished _his_
lunch!" said the knowing old fellow, giving Dad a dig in the ribs. "Sly
dog! I suppose you think you'll have a better chance of working to
win'ard of him then?"
"That's it, Admiral," said my father, laughing. "There's no good in a
fellow trying to bamboozle you, sir."
"No, by George!" chuckled the old fellow, mightily pleased at this
tribute to his "cuteness", "you'd have to get up precious early in the
morning to take me in as you know from old experience of me, Vernon!
But, what the deuce are you going to Whitehall to kick your heels there
for? They'll only keep you waiting an hour in that infernal
waiting-room, and then tell you the Secretary's gone for the day, or
some other bouncer, just to get rid of you. I know their dirty tricks--
hang 'em! What d'you want, eh?"
"Well, sir, I thought I might get something in one of the dockyards,"
answered Dad, frankly. "I heard last night of there being an
appointment vacant at Devonport, and I was going to apply for it."
"Any interest, eh?"
"Not a scrap, Admiral," replied my father. "All my friends are dead or
out of favour with the powers that be, I'm afraid now."
"Then you might as well apply for a piece of the moon," said the Admiral
in his curt, dogmatic way; "and if that's all, Vernon, that is taking
you to Whitehall, you had far better save your shoe leather and come
back with me to the club."
"Thank you very much, Admiral, but I must really say `no' again,"
rejoined Dad, touched by his kindly pertinacity. "I confess, sir,
though, that the object of my journey to the Admiralty is not altogether
on my own account personally, for I wished to introduce this youngster
of mine here to the Secretary, and thought it a good thing to kill the
two birds with one stone."
"Humph!" growled the old Admiral. "D'you think he never saw a boy
before, eh, Vernon? I'm sure there's a lump too many of the young
rascals knocking about already!"
Dad smiled at the quizzical look and sly wink with which this inquiry
was accompanied, the Admiral twisting his head on one side as he spoke
and looking just like a crested cockatoo!
"No, Sir Charles, not exactly," he replied, putting his arm round my
neck caressingly. "However, for all that, even so great a man as Mr
Secretary might not know as good a boy as my son, Jack, here!"
I tell you what, I did feel proud when Dad said that, though I could not
help flushing up like a girl, and had to hold down my head to hide it.
"Yes, yes, quite right, Vernon, quite right, the sentiment does you
honour, and him. I'm sure, though, I meant no offence to the little
chap," said the rough, old sea-dog hastily, afraid of having hurt our
feelings. "But, all the same, I don't see what you want to show him to
that Jack-in-office for? By George, the sight of his ugly phiz can't do
any good to the youngster!"
"No, sir, possibly not, though I'm told he isn't such a bad-looking
fellow," answered Dad, laughing again at the Admiral's determination to
get to the bottom of the matter. "The truth, sir, is I want to get this
youngster nominated for a naval cadetship before he oversteps the age
limit. The boy is dying to follow in my footsteps; but, though I have
tried to dissuade him from it as much as I can, and the idea of his
going to sea makes his poor mother shudder, still, seeing that he seems
bent upon it, neither she nor I wish to thwart his inclination."
"Whee-ugh!" whistled the other through his teeth as he proceeded to take
three or four enormous pinches of snuff in rapid succession from his
waistcoat pocket and losing half of each pinch ere it reached his nose,
the Admiral generously scattering it over the lapels of his coat and
shirt front on the way. "Why the deuce didn't you tell me all that
before, my dear Vernon, instead of backing and filling like a Dutch
galliot beating to win'ard?"
"I--I--" hesitated my father, who had refrained from telling him before
because he hated asking a favour of anyone whom he regarded in the light
of a friend. "I--I--didn't like to trouble you, sir."
"Bosh, Vernon! You know well enough it's never a trouble to me to do
anything for an old shipmate," said the old fellow, heartily, and,
putting his hand on my shoulder, he wheeled me round so as to look me in
the face as I lifted up my head and gazed at him admiringly on his
addressing me directly, "so, my young shaver, you want to be a sailor,
eh?"
"Yes, sir," I replied, "I love the sea, and I wouldn't be anything else
for the world!"
"Ha, humph!" growled the veteran, who, I believe, was as fond of his
profession at heart, in spite of his grumbles, as anyone who ever went
afloat. "You'd better be a tinker or a tailor, my boy, than go to sea!
It's a bad trade nowadays! What put it into your head, eh?"
"It comes naturally to him," said Dad, seeing me puzzled how to answer
the question. "I suppose it must run in the blood, sir."
"Humph, like my gout!" jerked out Sir Charles, sharply, as if he just
then felt a twinge of his old complaint, and, turning to me again, he
asked as abruptly, "D'ye think you can pass for cadet, youngster--know
your three R's--readin', 'ritin' and 'rithmetic, eh?"
"Yes, sir, I think so," said I grinning, having heard this old joke
before from Dad many a time, "I shall try my best, sir. I can't say
more than that, sir, can I?"
"No, by George, no, youngster, that answer shows me, my boy, that you
are your father's son!" cried the Admiral heartily, clapping me on the
back as if I were a man, and making me sneeze with the loose snuff which
he shook off from his coat as he did so. "I said you were a chip of the
old block the moment I first clapped eyes on you, and now I'm certain of
it! Vernon, you shall have a nomination for the youngster. I think
I've got sufficient interest at the Admiralty left to promise you that,
at all events!"
"Oh, thank you, Admiral," replied Dad, while I looked my gratitude, not
being able to speak, "thank you for your great kindness to me and the
boy."
"Pooh, pooh, stuff and nonsense, my lad! It's little enough to do for
an old shipmate and brother officer," muttered the good-hearted old
fellow, quite overcome with confusion at our thanks, as Dad wrung one of
his hands and I caught hold of the other. "I've got an appointment to
meet the First Lord this very afternoon, as luck would have it, so I'll
mention the matter to him, and I've no doubt the youngster'll get his
nomination in a day or two, at the outside. By-the-bye where are you
stopping in London? You haven't told me that yet."
My father, thereupon, gave him our address.
"All right, Vernon," said the veteran, shoving Dad's card along with the
snuff in his waistcoat pocket, "I'll see to the matter without fail.
Good-bye, now, Vernon, good-bye, young shaver, I hope you'll make as
good a sailor and smart an officer as your father before you!"
With these parting words and a kindly nod to me the old Admiral toddled
off across Waterloo Place to the Senior United Service Club opposite, to
which, I presume, he intended transferring his patronage now that the
Reform had given him the cold shoulder, while Dad and I returned to our
temporary lodgings in Piccadilly to tell mother of our unexpected
meeting and its happy result. I may here add that I was never fortunate
enough to see the gallant old veteran again, though I heard of him often
afterwards from my father, who told me he always asked how I was getting
on. Circumstances prevented my meeting him when I was yet in England,
and I was out in China when he died, some four years subsequently to my
making his acquaintance in Pall Mall that morning.
Strange to say, however, the other day, when engaged planning out this
very yarn of my adventures afloat, I chanced to see an advertisement in
one of the Portsmouth papers of an auction about to be held at
Merchiston Hall, near Horndean, where I was informed the Admiral had
resided for many years, and where he spent most of his time farming when
not at sea, before he got mixed up in politics and Parliamentary
matters, as he was in his later days after he was "put on the shelf,"
and hauled down his flag for ay!
Here, the very bed was pointed out to me in which the gallant old sailor
died; a plain, old-fashioned piece of furniture, without any gilding or
meretricious adornment, and honest and substantial like himself.
The house, too, was similarly unpretentious, being a low, one-storied,
verandah--fronted structure, with plenty of room about it, but little
"style" or ornament. It was, though, picturesquely situated in the
centre of a well-timbered little park and homestead and snugly sheltered
by tall fir trees and a thick shrubbery from all north'ard and easterly
winds, amid the prettiest scenery of Hampshire--wooded heights and
pleasant dales, with coppice and hedgerow, and here and there a
red-roofed old farmhouse peeping out from the greenery forming its
immediate surroundings.
"Poor old Charley Napier!" as he was affectionately entitled by those
who served under his flag--officers and men alike, the latter especially
almost idolising him for he was ever a good friend to them.
He now sleeps his last sleep in the churchyard of Catherington, where he
lies safe at anchor, hard by the dwelling where he lived when in the
flesh.
Here his tomb may be seen by the curious under the shelter of the early
Norman church, dedicated to Saint Catherine, from which circumstance the
village takes its name.
It is a fine old building, this church, dating back to the time of the
Crusades, when heroes as gallant as Admiral Sir Charles Napier besieged
Sidon and captured Acre--like as he himself did some eight centuries
later, long prior to his unsuccessful mission to the Baltic, the
somewhat inglorious termination of which, unfortunately, clouded his
naval reputation and ended his career afloat!