THE ADMIRALTY LIST.
In the midst of these gay doings, which were all very well for a time,
but rather profitless on the whole, an extremely favourable opening
for promotion suddenly occurred. The late Sir Samuel Hood, on being
appointed commander-in-chief of the East India station, was applied to
by my friends, and agreed to take me with him as one of his
lieutenants. His list of _protégés_, he said, was a long one, and I
must come in last; after his old followers were provided for, but
there could not be a moment's doubt on the occasion. In his letters,
the Admiral dwelt very strongly on the importance of having the name
of his young friend, as he was good enough to call me, placed likewise
on the Admiralty List.
The purpose of this advice is easily explained. The Admiral on a
foreign station is allowed actually to appoint, or promote, to certain
vacancies only, any officer whom he pleases, while on the occurrence
of all other vacancies, except those which are thus specifically
placed at his disposal, he is furnished with what is called an
Admiralty List. In former times, whatever it be now, the Admirals
abroad were allowed to appoint officers of their own selection to
vacancies occasioned by death, or by the sentence of a court-martial;
while they were instructed to nominate those persons only who stood on
the Admiralty List to such vacancies as arose from officers falling
sick and invaliding; from the accession of ships captured and
purchased into the service; from officers deserting (which strange
event has sometimes happened); or from the squadron being increased by
ships built and launched on the station. But as these last enumerated
are, generally speaking, of much more frequent occurrence than those
which fall to the Admiral's peculiar share, an officer on the
Admiralty List has a proportionately better chance of promotion than
one who stands merely on that of the commander-in-chief.
These two lists differ essentially in one material feature. As a
matter of course, the Admiral's List possesses some degree of
stability; since a place upon it is generally won by long service
under his flag, and retained there by personal esteem or family
connection. An Admiral's follower, indeed, far from being a term of
reproach, is always one of honour, as it implies the confidence and
regard of the flag-officer. To get placed therefore, however near the
end, on the good books of a rising Admiral is almost a certain road to
promotion.
On the other hand, the Admiralty List is kept a profound secret, or,
what comes nearly to the same thing, is kept strictly out of sight of
those it most concerns. It is well known to be formidably intricate in
its arrangements, and very slippery in its promises; indeed, from the
circumstance of its depending on the fluctuating interests of party
politics, it must be essentially pie-crusty in its texture. For it is
sometimes thought in the political world that as much may be done by
propitiating antagonists as by rewarding friends. How all this may be
in sound principle I cannot tell; but nothing in practice can be more
unsteady, or less to be relied upon, as I too well know, than this
said Admiralty List. Still, the advantages of getting his name on this
precious little slip of paper are very great, though it be a most
unofficial-looking note sheet, as I can testify, from having once
incidentally been afforded a glimpse of one, on which, to my horror,
my own name was not! If the admiral of the station be also a personal
friend, that source of favour, of course, always adds another string
to the young man's bow. Circumstances likewise occasionally arise
which enable an admiral, who has an officer's interest really at
heart, to give him an extra lift at the right moment, and in the right
direction, provided his name actually stands on the Admiralty List,
even though it be ever so low down.
Before sailing for India, accordingly, I took a world of pains to make
out this grand point, tormented my friends and relations most wofully,
and, as I conceived, with eventual success. A distinct assurance was
given to a near connection of my own, and a member of parliament, that
my name would certainly stand on the First Lord's list, to be sent out
to India in his Majesty's ship Volage, of which I had the farther good
fortune to be appointed junior lieutenant. A change at the Admiralty
was then confidently expected; and I took every care, as I thought, to
have it arranged that my name should not be omitted when the new
First Lord came into power. Little dreamed I that, in the _mêlée_ of
official patronage and personal favour which shortly afterwards took
place at headquarters, my poor name would be dropped out altogether.
The provoking consequence was, however, that I had the mortification
of seeing sundry capital vacancies in India pass by, one after
another, which, had I occupied even the very low place on the fresh
list which I had filled on the old one, might have secured my
promotion several years sooner than it came.
The old Volage, in which we sailed for India, I am forced to confess,
was one of the least good-looking of all his Majesty's ships and
vessels then afloat. But by this time I cared not one fig for the
looks of my ship, though, a month or two before, I should have
considered it a point of honour to maintain its beauty. I was
delighted beyond measure to think that, at length, I was on the right
road to promotion; and this satisfaction was more than doubled by
finding the East was the region in which that great prize was to be
sought for.
Although the men-of-war and their convoy sailed from Spithead on the
25th of March, they did not reach Madeira till the 19th of April. It
is always more teasing to be delayed at the outset of a voyage than at
any other stage of its course, just as it is mortifying and hurtful to
be checked in the commencement of a profession. Upon this occasion we
had a fine rattling easterly breeze for eight-and-forty hours after
starting, which swept us all, dull sailers and good ones, merrily out
of the British Channel. This fair start is always a grand affair,
whatever succeeds; for if the prevalent westerly wind catches a ship
before the channel is left well behind, she may be driven back to
Plymouth or Falmouth, and all the agony of bills, news, leave-taking,
and letters, has to be endured over again. Whereas, if she once gets
the Lizard Light some fifty leagues astern of her, all these worrying
distractions may be considered at an end. A totally new world--the
"world of waters"--is now entered upon, far beyond the reach even of
those long-armed persons, the "gentlemen of the press," or the
startling sound of the postman's knock; that call which so often sets
off the steadiest-going pulse at a gallop!
Oh, the joy! the relief unspeakable! of feeling oneself fairly under
weigh, and of seeing the white cliffs of Old England sinking in the
north-eastern horizon right to windward! Let the concocters of
romances and other imaginary tales say what they please of the joys of
returning home; give me the happiness of a good departure, and a
boundless world of untried enjoyments ahead. If a man be out of debt
and out of love, or only moderately involved in either of these
delicate predicaments; if he have youth and health and tolerable
prospects, a good ship under his foot, good officers over him, and
good messmates to serve with, why need he wear and tear his feelings
about those he leaves behind? Or rather, why need he grieve to part
from those who are better pleased to see him vigorously doing his duty
rather than idling in other people's way at home? Or wherefore should
he sigh to quit those enjoyments in which he cannot honourably
participate till he has earned his title to them by hardy service?
On the other hand, who is there so insensible as not to feel the
deepest apprehension, on returning from a long and distant voyage?
Busy fancy will conjure up images of death and sickness, of losses and
sorrows. And when the accumulated pile of letters is first placed in
our hands after a long voyage, with what sickening eagerness do we not
turn from the superscription to discover the colour of the seal?
It happened once to me to be nearly fifteen months without receiving a
single line from home, or seeing an English newspaper. On reaching the
port of rendezvous, I found that as the ship I commanded was the only
man-of-war in the harbour, there devolved upon me an immense load of
official business requiring immediate and careful attention. All this
I learned on my way to the consul's office, where a huge budget of
letters was delivered to me. My first impulse, naturally, was to tear
away the envelopes, and dive into the secrets of these domestic
dispatches; but I paused on detecting several ominous-looking patches
of black wax, and, thrusting them all into a drawer, did not open one
till next day. Officially considered, it was well I imposed this
restraint upon my curiosity; for the fatal news these letters
contained must have seriously interfered with the exclusive
professional attention which the nature of the service required me to
bestow upon various public matters admitting of no delay; whereas, in
regard to the private intelligence, a single day, added to so many
months, signified nothing.
After leaving Spithead, our two days of fair wind were enough to take
us clear of the channel, and well off the bank of soundings, far
beyond the danger of return. A tolerable spell of bad weather then
came on, which in one sense was of essential service, by contributing
greatly to assist the first lieutenant's arrangements, though it
discomfited most grievously the apple-pie order of those disturbers of
his peace, the shore-going, long-coated gentry, our passengers, whom
the sailors, in their coarse but graphic vocabulary, call "dog
robbers," from their intercepting the broken meat on its way to the
kennel from their master's table. Our gale of wind, indeed, was no
gale to speak of; but as the sea rose, and a heavy press of canvas
laid the creaking old barky well over on her broadside, many of the
beautifully piled boxes, the well-packed portmanteaus, the polished
dressing cases and writing-desks, the frail glass, crockery, and other
finery, fetched way, and went rattling, smash! dash! right into the
lee scuppers. In the next instant, the great bulk of these materials
were jerked back again to their original situation, by that peculiar
movement, so trying to unpractised nerves, called a lurch to windward.
To unaccustomed ears, the sounds on this occasion lead one to suppose
the ship is going to pieces; while the cries for help from the
broken-shinned, sea-sick landsmen, the bawling for cleats and lashings
from the mate of the decks, the thumping of hammers, and the loud
laugh of the light-hearted middies, enchanted with the uproar, make a
fine concert. The sedative effect of two or three hours of this work
exceeds fresh-water belief; so that in a day or two, Messrs. Neptune,
Boreas, First Lieutenant, and Co., have re-established their
legitimate authority so completely, that neither servants, nor any
other passengers, ever afterwards venture to indulge in those
liberties which, at first coming on board, they fancied might be taken
with impunity.