To England we with favouring gale,
Our gallant ship up Channel steer;
When running under easy sail,
The light blue western cliffs appear.
How often and often have those cheerful lines been sung by young, and
light, and happy hearts, beating high with anticipations of happiness,
and thoughts of the homes they are about to revisit after long years of
absence. Such was the song sung in the midshipmen's berth of the Doris,
as once more our gallant frigate entered the chops of the Channel, and
we were looking forward to seeing again those western cliffs which often
and often we had pictured to ourselves awake, and seen in our dreams
asleep.
I will not dwell on the feeling with which "Sweethearts and wives" was
drunk on the last Saturday evening in the midshipmen's berth as well as
in every mess in the ship; not that the young gentlemen themselves had
any one who could properly be designated as one or the other, but they
might hope to have, and that was the next thing to it.
I thought of poor McAllister, cut down in his early manhood, and of his
poor Mary, and I resolved if possible to fulfil his request, and to go
and tell her about him. It was a task I would gladly have avoided.
Then again, what an unsatisfactory account I must give to Bertha of poor
Ceaton. His expectation of dying soon might be mere fancy, but it was
very evident that his spirits had never recovered the shock he had
received when he killed Captain Staghorn, and he felt himself branded
with the mark of Cain.
I was far from recovered from my last wound, and, altogether, my
anticipations of pleasure were tempered with many causes for sorrow.
However, I do not wish to appear sentimental, though I do wish to hint
that midshipmen, even when returning home, must not expect to find
unclouded happiness.
We had still some leagues to traverse, and it was possible that we might
fall in with an enemy, and have another battle to fight, before we could
reach home. Not that any one had any objection to so doing; on the
contrary, no one expected for a moment that we could meet an enemy
without coming off the victor, and being able to sail into Portsmouth
harbour with our prize. A sharp look-out was accordingly kept on every
side, as we sailed up Channel, but by that time few French cruisers
remained daring enough to show themselves near the British coasts, and
the Needle Rocks at length hove in sight, and with a leading breeze we
ran up inside the Isle of Wight, and anchored at Spithead among a large
fleet there assembled.
After waiting two days, uncertain as to our fate, we received orders to
go into harbour to be paid off. I need not describe the operation, nor
the scenes which took place after it. Each man received a considerable
sum, and I believe that before many days were over, half the number had
spent, in the most childish way, the larger portion, and some, every
shilling of their hard-earned gains, and were ready again to go afloat.
Most of the officers had gone on shore, and Spellman, and Grey, and I,
and other midshipmen, were preparing to take our departure, when we went
to bid farewell to Mr Johnson.
"Mr Merry, I hope that we shall not part just yet," he said with great
feeling, taking my hand. "The ship is to be left in charge of the
gunner, and I have obtained leave to go up to London to visit my wife,
and for other reasons. Now it will afford me great pleasure if you and
Mr Grey will make my house your resting-place on your way home, or
rather I should say my wife's house, for, as I told you, she is a lady
of independent fortune. Indeed, Mr Merry, friends as we are afloat, I
know the customs of the service too well to ask you, a quarter-deck
officer, to my house under other circumstances."
"Don't speak of that, Mr Johnson," said I, feeling sure that he would
be pleased if I accepted his invitation, and wishing perhaps a little to
gratify my own curiosity. "I shall be delighted to go to your house.
You forget how much I am indebted to you for having several times saved
my life, and that puts us on an equality on shore, if not on board;
besides, remember I know all about your wife, and I do not think that I
ever returned you the letter you gave me for her when you thought you
might be killed."
"All right, Mr Merry; don't let's have any protestations; we're brother
seamen and shipmates, and thoroughly appreciate each other, though some
of the incidents I mentioned in my wonderful narratives might shake some
people's confidence in my veracity," he remarked, again grasping my
hand.
"However, that is neither here nor there. You understand me, and that's
enough. If you and Mr Grey like, we will take a post-chaise between
us, and post up to town. I am impatient to be at home, and you will
have no objection, I dare say, to whisk as fast along the road as four
posters can make the wheels go round."
Grey and I willingly agreed to Mr Johnson's proposition. Spellman was
not asked, and had he been, we concluded that he would not have accepted
the invitation, so we said nothing about it to him. We had a jolly
paying-off dinner, with the usual speeches, and compliments, and toasts.
After the health of the King was drunk and all the Royal family, and
other important personages, Mr Bryan got up and said--
"Now, gentlemen, I have to propose the health of a shipmate, of, I may
say, a brother officer of mine, Lieutenant Perigal, with three times
three." Saying this, he pulled out of his pocket one of those long
official documents, such as are well-known to emanate from my Lords
Commissioners of the Admiralty.
"Come at last! hurrah!--well, it will make my dear wife happy," were the
first words the delighted Perigal could utter. I honoured him for them.
Faithful and honest, he was a true sailor. I afterwards had the
pleasure of meeting his young wife, and she was worthy of all the
eulogiums he had delighted when absent to pass on her. He had picked up
a fair share of prize-money, otherwise his half-pay of ninety pounds a
year was not much on which to support a wife and to keep up the
appearance of a gentleman. I was in hopes that Mr Bryan would himself
have been promoted, but he was not. Mr Fitzgerald, however, very
shortly afterwards received his commission as a commander. Bobus
declared that it was because he had stood on his head before the King
and made him laugh, or because he had amused some other great person by
one of his wonderful stories. I met him one day, and congratulated him.
"Ah, merit, merit does everything, Mr Merry, next to zeal," he
exclaimed, with a chuckle.
"You always were a zealous officer; and now I think of it, you are the
very midshipman who took off his trousers and blew into them, when no
other sail or wind was to be had for love or money, and the captain was
in a hurry to get your boat back. I've often told the story since of
you, and set it all down to your zeal."
"Well, let this be your consolation, if others do not recognise your
services, I will when I am one of the Lords of the Admiralty."
"Well, sir," said I, "I hope that you will make haste to climb up into
that honourable position, or the war will be over, and I shall not have
secured my commission." I did not think that it would be polite to have
replied, I thank you for nothing, but certainly I did not expect ever to
benefit much by his patronage.
To return to the paying-off dinner. I wish that I could say that all
present retired quietly to their respective inns and lodgings as sober
as judges; but, with the exception of Grey and me, I believe that not
one could have managed to toe a plank, had they been suddenly ordered to
make the attempt. I speak of things as they were in those days, not as
they are now. Happily at the present day it is considered highly
disgraceful for an officer to be drunk; and not only is it disgraceful,
but subversive of discipline, whether he is on or off duty, and thus
injurious to the interests of the service, and prejudicial to his own
health and morals. Taking the matter up only in a personal point of
view, how can a man tell how he will behave when he has allowed liquor
to steal away his wits? what mischief he may do himself, what injury he
may inflict on others? In the course of my career I have seen hundreds
of young men ruined in health and prospects, and many, very many,
brought to a premature grave by this pernicious habit of drinking.
"But what is the harm of getting drunk once in a way?" I have heard
many a shipmate ask.
I say, a vast deal of harm. How can you tell what you will do, while
you are thus once-in-a-way drunk? I, an old sailor, and not an over
strait-laced one either, do warn most solemnly you young midshipmen, and
others, who may read my memoirs, that numbers have had to rue most
bitterly, all their after lives, that once-in-a-way getting drunk, or, I
may say, taking more than a moderate allowance of liquor. Many fine
promising young fellows, who have at first shown no signs of caring for
liquor, have ultimately become addicted to drinking, from that most
dangerous habit of _taking a nip_ whenever they have an opportunity.
"But why call that a dangerous habit?" shipmates have asked me. "A nip
is only _just a taste_ of spirits, raw it may be, or perhaps even
watered. It's a capital thing for the stomach, and keeps out cold, and
saves many a fellow from illness."
So it may, say I. But it is the nip extra I dread, with good reason;
the nip when no such necessity exists, or rather excuse, for a man may
pass years without positively requiring spirits to preserve his health.
However, not to weary my readers with the subject, I will conclude it,
by urging them to be most watchful, lest they take the first step in
this or any other vice. How many fall, because they think that vice is
manly. Which is the most manly person, he who yields to his foes, or he
who, with his back to a tree, boldly keeps them at bay? No greater foes
to a man's happiness and prosperity than his vices--or sin. No man can
expect to escape being attacked by sin, and those who are its slaves
already cry out, "Yield to it; yield to it. It's a pleasant master.
Just try its yoke; you can get free, you know, whenever you like."
Never was a greater falsehood uttered, or one more evidently invented by
the father of lies. The yoke of sin is most galling; it is the hardest
of task-masters. The people who talk thus do their utmost to hide their
chains, to conceal their sufferings, which giving way to sin has brought
upon them. Do not trust to them, whatever their rank or character in
the world. I would urge you from the highest of motives, from love for
the Saviour who died for you, not to give way to sin; and I would point
out to you how utterly low, and degrading, and unmanly it is to yield to
such a foe--a foe so base and cowardly, that if you make any real effort
to withstand him, he will fly before you. Don't be ashamed to pray for
help through Him, and you are not on equal terms unless you do. That's
not unmanly. Sin has got countless allies ever ready to come to its
support. By prayer you will obtain one--but that One is all powerful,
all sufficient. It is my firm belief that He, and He alone, is the only
ally in whom you can place implicit reliance. Others may fall away at
the times of greatest need. He, and He alone, will never desert you;
will remain firm and constant till the battle of life is over.
Now some of my readers, perhaps, will exclaim, "Hillo, Mr Midshipman
Marmaduke Merry, have _you_ taken to preaching? You, who have been
describing that extraordinary old fellow Jonathan Johnson, with his
veracious narratives, and wonderful deeds. You've made a mistake.
You've taken it into your head to write some sermons for sailors, and
you've got hold by mistake of the manuscript of your own adventures."
Pardon me, I have made no mistake, I reply. When I was Midshipman
Marmaduke Merry, I did not preach; I did not often give good advice as I
do now. I wish that I had, and I wish that I had taken it oftener than
I did. What I do now is to afford the result of my experience at the
close of a long life; and it is that experience by which I wish you to
benefit. I quote the Scriptures, and I believe in the Scriptures for
many reasons. One of them is--that I have ever seen Scripture promises
fulfilled, and Scripture threats executed. Now let me ask you what
would you say to a man whose father, or some other relative, had been
storing up gold or other articles of value, and which, when offered to
him, he should refuse to accept, on the plea that they cost much
trouble, and occupied so many years to collect, that they must be
useless? You would say that such a man is an idiot. Yet is not
experience, or rather the good advice which results from experience,
treated over and over again by worldly idiots exactly in that way? Do
not you, dear readers, join that throng of idiots. Take an old man's
advice, and ponder over the matters of which I have just now been
speaking. This exhortation has arisen out of our paying-off dinner. I
might have given you a very amusing account of that same feast--though
it was not "a feast of reason," albeit it might have been a "flow of
soul;" but I am not in the vein, the fact being, that paying-off dinners
are melancholy affairs to look back at. How few of those assembled
round the festive board, who have been our companions for the previous
three, or four, or perhaps five years, through storm and battles and
hardships, ever meet again!
Some have grown in honour, some have sunk in dishonour; some have
struggled on with services unrequited, and have become soured and
discontented; others again, in spite of their humble worldly position,
have retained good spirits and kindly feelings, and though now old
lieutenants with grey hairs, appear to be the same warm happy-hearted
beings they were when midshipmen. Should any of the readers not meet
with the success they desire, I hope that they will belong to the last
class; but I am very certain that they will not, unless, as midshipmen,
they avoid evil courses, and fall not into the paths of sin.
The morning after that paying-off dinner, Grey and I were up early, and
had breakfasted, when a yellow chaise drew up at the door of the Blue
Posts, and in the interior appeared seated a very dignified-looking
gentleman in plain clothes, whom we had no difficulty in distinguishing
as Mr Jonathan Johnson. Toby Bluff, who was on the box, got down and
opened the door, when Mr Johnson, getting out, inquired with a paternal
air, whether we were ready to start.
Our portmanteaus, flattened and wrinkled, containing the remainder of
those articles which on starting could with difficulty be stowed in our
bulky chests, being strapped on, we jumped in, followed by Mr Johnson,
and Toby remounting the box, up High Street we rattled at a tremendous
pace, exactly suited to our feelings.
"This is pleasant, isn't it, young gentlemen?" exclaimed Mr Johnson,
rubbing his hands. "I never like to let the grass grow under my feet
either ashore or afloat. Sometimes, to be sure, one has to sit still,
and wait to do nothing, the most trying thing in the world to do.
However, when you do keep moving, take care to move forward. Some
people move backward, remember. I have from time to time given you bits
of good advice, and I dare say that you have been surprised to hear them
from an old fellow who could spin such an outrageous yarn as my
veracious narrative, but I hope that its very extravagance will have
prevented you from supposing for a moment that I am capable of falsehood
myself, or would encourage it in others; still I must own that I have
been guilty of a piece of deceit, though I did not at the first intend
to deceive. I will tell you the circumstances of the case, and then
condemn me as I deserve. I told you that my wife was a lady of rank and
education. My father was really very well connected, and when I was a
young man staying with him, I met the daughter of a country gentleman of
property, with whom I fell in love, and she had no objection to me. Her
parents, however, would not hear of the match, and I was sent off to
sea. Though only a warrant officer, I always liked good society when I
could enter it, and on one occasion some few years back, having gone for
that purpose to Bath, I was introduced to a lady who was, I was
informed, the Baroness Strogonoff. Before long I discovered that she
was the widow of a Russian baron, and that she was no other than my old
flame. I found that she had always felt an interest for me, and in fact
that she would have married me had she been allowed. I naturally asked
her if she would now, and she said Yes. I told her that I was now in
the navy, and an officer, and though this was true, I felt that I
committed a great fault in not telling her that I was only a warrant
officer. I was flush of prize-money at the time, and could make a very
good appearance, which, as you may suppose, I did not fail to do. The
result was that all her old affection for me returned, and that, to cut
the matter short, we married.
"Here was I, a poor boatswain, the husband of a rich baroness, she of
course, you'll understand, not knowing that I was a poor boatswain, or
rather, what a boatswain is. Now, if there's one thing more than
another sticks in my throat, it is the thought of a man being dependent
on a woman, let her be who she may, for his support, if he can support
himself. Now I had the greatest affection and respect for my wife, but
this feeling always came between me and my happiness. While living with
her I only spent my own prize-money on myself; and though I would gladly
have remained with her, as soon as I was appointed to a ship I resolved
to go to sea. I was not worse off than any post-captain or other
officer in the service in this respect. I told her that duty called me
to sea, and, though evidently with great unwillingness, she would not
stop me in the path of duty. Ah, young gentlemen, my Baroness is a true
woman, and I only wish for her sake that I was a post-captain, and in
the fair way of becoming an admiral. She deserves it, anyhow. I have,
I believe, a distant cousin a baronet, and as I believe that it gives me
some importance in the eyes of her friends, I talk about him
occasionally in their presence. Not that I care a fig for rank myself,
except as far as it may gratify her. So packing up my traps I joined my
ship, not allowing any one on board to know even that I was married. I
felt very sad, but I kept my affairs to myself, and tried to do my duty
to the best of my power. I went to India, and you may be sure I
collected all the most beautiful presents I could think of for my dear
wife. I picked up, too, a good share of prize-money, so that I felt I
might return home with a clear conscience, and the prospect of being
well received. I was not mistaken, for my wife was overjoyed at my
return, and would, I believe, have been so had I come back without a
single jewel or shawl for her, and without a guinea in my pocket. This
time I was able to leave a handsome sum of money with her, of which I
begged her acceptance, for you see I knew that if she died before me, I
had always my pension to fall back on, or Greenwich, and that I should
have ample for all my wants; and I felt a proud satisfaction in adding
to her comfort and enjoyment by every means in my power, for I doubt if
any other boatswain in the service can boast of having a baroness for
his wife."
"I should think not, Mr Johnson," said I. "But then, I do not think
that any other boatswain in the service deserves one so much as you."
He pulled up his shirt collar and looked highly pleased at this remark.
"You think so, Mr Merry? You are a young gentleman of discernment in
most matters, and I hope are so in this respect," he answered.
"However, when you see the Baroness, I think that you will confess that
a man must be worth something to be worthy of her."
Thus we talked on, and I fancy that our tongues were not silent for a
minute together during the whole journey.
The last stage we had four horses.
"I like to go home in style," observed Mr Johnson. "Not on my own
account, you'll understand, but because it pleases the Baroness, and
makes her neighbours suppose that her husband is a person of
consequence."
We darted along at a fine rate, and at length drew up at the door of a
very pretty villa in the neighbourhood of London, without having had to
drive through the city itself. We sat still, while Mr Johnson sprang
out, and we saw him through the windows cordially welcomed by a really
very handsome-looking lady of somewhat large proportions, whom we had no
doubt was the Baroness herself. In this conjecture we were right, and
Mr Johnson soon returning, introduced us in due form to her. She
received us most graciously and kindly, indeed in the most good-natured
manner, and told us that we were welcome to stay at her house as long as
we pleased. She seemed a warm-hearted unsophisticated person, and I
should have said not over-refined or highly educated. Had she been so,
I confess that I do not think she would have married my worthy friend
Jonathan Johnson. A room was quickly prepared for us, and we found
ourselves in five minutes perfectly at home. We were shortly discussing
a capital dinner, and as I looked at our well-dressed host at the foot
of the table, I could scarcely believe that he was the same person who,
a few days before, was carrying on duty with chain and whistle round his
neck as boatswain of the Doris. During dinner the Baroness announced
that she had fixed on the following evening, before she knew of her
husband's intended return, to give a rout, and she pressed us so warmly
to stay for it, that we, nothing loath, consented to do so. We were
able to do this, as we had not mentioned any day positively for our
appearance at our own homes. We spent the next morning in visiting with
Mr Johnson the sights of London, but we returned early, as he was
unwilling to be long absent from his wife. After dinner a host of
servants came in, and in a rapid space of time prepared the house for
the reception of the expected guests. It was well lighted up, and I was
quite dazzled with its appearance. Still more so was I, when the
Baroness came down glittering with jewels, and the guests began to
assemble, and, as far as I could judge, there appeared to be a number of
people of some rank and consequence among them. There was a
conservatory and a tent full of flowers at the end of a broad passage,
all gaily lighted up, and several rooms thrown open for dancing, and a
band soon struck up, and the Baroness introduced Grey and me to some
capital partners, and we were soon toeing and heeling-it away to our
hearts' content. We had plenty to say to the young ladies about our
battles and other adventures, and of course we took care not to speak of
Mr Johnson, though more than one, I thought, pointedly asked what his
rank was in the navy. I replied, carelessly, that he was a very brave
officer, who had greatly distinguished himself, and that he had more
than once saved my life, so that there was no man in existence for whom
I had a greater regard. I believe that my remarks, without departing in
the slightest degree from the truth, were calculated to raise the
gallant boatswain in the estimation of his wife's friends. Scarcely had
I sat down, than I was again on my legs, prancing with my partners up
and down the room. I was standing quiet for a moment, having reached
the foot of the dance, and placed my partner in a seat, when I felt a
tap on my shoulder, and looking round, whom should I see but Captain
Collyer.
"What, you here, Merry!" he exclaimed. "How had you the good fortune to
be introduced to the Baroness?"
"Mr Johnson brought us here, sir," said I, very naturally, without a
moment's reflection.
"Mr Johnson!" muttered the captain, in a tone of surprise. "Who is
he?"
I was about to reply, when, on looking up, there I saw him across the
room, standing looking at us with a comical expression of vexation on
his countenance. His eye catching that of the captain, he immediately
advanced, and said quietly--
"I was not aware, Captain Collyer, that you were coming here, or I
should have let you know beforehand my position in this house. I know,
as you are aware, the difference between a post-captain and a boatswain,
and I should not have presumed to invite you, though as master here, I
am honoured by receiving you; but you see, sir, that you may do me much
harm in my social position, or render me considerable service, in the
way you treat me. I am in your hands."
"I wish to treat you as one of the bravest and most dashing officers in
His Majesty's service deserves to be treated," answered the captain,
warmly. "How you became the husband of a lady of title, I will not stop
to enquire, but I cannot help thinking that you will be wise to give up
the sea, and to remain by her side. The service will lose one of the
best boatswains who ever served His Majesty, but the Baroness will gain
a good husband; and I shall be happy to associate with one I esteem as a
friend and equal, which the etiquette of the service would prevent me
under present circumstances from doing."
"I thank you most cordially, Captain Collyer--from my heart, I do,"
exclaimed Mr Johnson. "But you see, sir, I love the service dearly,
and should be loath to quit it; and I love my independence, and should
be unwilling to lose that. I mean that I should be sorry to become
dependent even on my wife for support, while I am able to work for it
myself. I have explained my feeling and motives, and I hope that you
will consider them right."
"Indeed I do, and honour you for them," answered the captain. "But
still, Mr Johnson, I think that you should take the lady's opinion on
the subject. I suspect that when she knows the true state of the case,
she would far rather you remained at home than have to go knocking about
the salt ocean, without the prospect of bettering yourself."
"That's the only fault I have to find with the service," said Mr
Johnson. "Perhaps I have been dreaming, when living on in hopes that
some change might be made whereby I might benefit myself, that is, rise
in the service, which has ever been my ambition. Why should not a
warrant be a stepping-stone to a commission through extraordinary good
conduct in the navy, just as a sergeant may hope to rise in the army? I
don't mean, sir, that I wish to see the present class of boatswains
obtain commissions, but with that reward in view, a better class of men
would enter the service, and it would improve the character of the
warrant officers."
"So it might, but a large proportion would fail in obtaining their ends,
and then we should have a number of discontented warrant officers,
instead of being, as at present, the best satisfied men in the service."
"There's force in that objection, Captain Collyer; the matter requires
consideration," answered our host. "You must not rank me, however,
among the discontented ones. I have long made up my mind to take things
as they are, though I hope that I should not have been found wanting,
had I attained a far higher rank than I now hold."
While we were talking, I had observed a dapper little well-dressed man
come into the room, and look eagerly around. He soon discovered the
Baroness, and having talked to her for some time in an animated style,
he advanced with her towards us. He then ran forward, and taking Mr
Johnson's huge paw in his hand, he wrung it warmly, exclaiming--
"I congratulate you, Sir Jonathan Johnson, and your amiable and charming
lady--indeed I do, from the bottom of my heart--on your accession to
title and property. As you never saw, or indeed, I fancy, never heard
of, your relative the late baronet, your grief need not be very poignant
on that account, so we'll say nothing about it just now. I have been
working away like a mouse in a cheese ever since I got an inkling that
you were the rightful heir, and have only just discovered the last link
in the chain of evidence; and then, having rigged myself out, as you
nautical gentlemen would say, in a presentable evening suit, I hurried
off here; and so there's no doubt about it, and I should like to give
way to an honest hearty cheer to prove my satisfaction."
Our friend's countenance was worthy of the pencil of a painter, while
the little lawyer was thus running on. His astonishment for a time
overpowered his satisfaction.
"I Sir Jonathan Johnson!" he at length slowly exclaimed. "I a baronet--
I the possessor of a title and fortune--I no longer a rattan-using,
call-blowing, grog-drinking, pipe-smoking, yarn-spinning boatswain, but
a right real English baronet--my dear Baroness! I am proud, I am happy,
I am," and he threw his arms round his wife's neck, in spite of all the
company present, and bestowing on her a hearty kiss, gave way to a
jovial cheer, in which Grey and I and the lawyer, and even Captain
Collyer, could not help joining.
The new Sir Jonathan, however, very soon recovering himself, became
aware of the absurdity of his conduct, and the guests, collected by the
cheer, coming round to congratulate him, he apologised in a fitting way
for his unwonted ebullition of feeling. In a wonderfully short time he
was himself again, and no man could have borne his honours with a better
grace.
When the captain and Grey and I again congratulated him, he replied, "I
am much obliged to all my kind friends here, but I know that your good
wishes are sincere."
Numberless speeches on the subject were made at supper, and when Captain
Collyer shook his late boatswain by the hand at parting, he assured Sir
Jonathan that nothing had given him greater pleasure than so doing.
"All I'll ask, Captain Collyer, is, that when you get a ship, you'll
give me a cruise some day. I don't think that I could go to sleep
happily if I was to fancy that I should never have the salt spray again
dashing into my face, or feel the deck lifting under my feet."
The promise asked was readily given, and Sir Jonathan Johnson was
afterwards engaged in one of the most gallant actions during the war,
when, as a volunteer, he led the boarders in his old style, and was
mainly instrumental in capturing the enemy.
After peace was established he bought a yacht, and many a pleasant
cruise I took with him during those piping times, our old shipmate
Perigal, to whom he had thus an opportunity of offering a handsome
salary, acting as his captain.
Toby Bluff, by his steady behaviour and sturdy bravery, became a
boatswain, and has now charge of a line-of-battle ship in ordinary at
Portsmouth.
The captain's old servant at last came on shore, and took to gardening,
but as he usually pulled up the flowers instead of the weeds, he was
directed to confine himself to sweeping the walks, which he did
effectually, with delightful slowness and precision. He was one day in
summer found sprinkling the housemaid's tea leaves over them, as he
remarked, to lick up the dust.
I have said nothing about my own family. It is a sad subject. Poor
Bertha! The gallant Ceaton never came home. His health gave way, but
he did not die of disease. He fell on the deck of his own ship in
action, at the moment the enemy's flag was seen to come down, the cheers
of his victorious crew ringing in his ears.
Now, dear readers, old and young, farewell. I must bring these
recollections of my early career as a Midshipman to a conclusion. I
wish that I had reason to believe they were as edifying as I hope they
may have proved amusing. All I ask is, that you will deal lightly with
the faults of the work. Take whatever good advice you may have found
scattered through the previous pages, and do not, by imitating the bad
example of any of my old shipmates, give me cause to regret that I
undertook to write this veracious history, as Mr Jonathan Johnson would
say, of the early days of...