Mercy on us! a bairn, a very pretty bairn,
A boy, a child.
SHAKESPEARE.
When Newton was landed from the cartel
at Jamaica, he found the advantage of not being clad
in the garb of a sailor, as all those who were in
such costume were immediately handed over to the admiral
of the station, to celebrate their restoration to
liberty on board of a man-of-war; but the clothes
supplied to him by the generosity of Monsieur de Fontanges
had any thing but a maritime appearance, and Newton
was landed with his portmanteaus by one of the man-of-war’s
boats, whose crew had little idea of his being a person
so peculiarly suited to their views, possessing as
he did the necessary qualifications of youth, activity,
and a thorough knowledge of his profession. Newton
was so anxious to return home, that after a few days’
expensive sojourn at an hotel, frequented chiefly
by the officers of the man-of-war in port, he resolved
to apply to the captain of a frigate ordered home with
despatches, to permit him to take a passage.
He had formed a slight intimacy with some of the officers,
who assured him that he would experience no difficulty
in obtaining his request. His application was
made in person, and after his statement that he had
been released in the last cartel which had come from
Guadaloupe, his request was immediately granted, without
any farther questions being put relative to his profession,
or the manner in which he had been captured.
The captain very civilly gave him to understand, that
he might mess with the gun-room officers, if he could
arrange with them, and that he expected to sail on
the evening of the ensuing day. Newton immediately
repaired on board of the frigate, to ascertain if
the officers would receive him as a messmate; and
further, whether the amount of his mess-money would
be more than he could in prudence afford. At
the bottom of one of the portmanteaus he had found
a bag of two hundred dollars, supplied by his generous
host, and in the same bag there was also deposited
a small note from Madame de Fontanges, wishing him
success, and enclosing (as a souvenir) a ring,
which he had often perceived on her finger; but, adequate
as was this supply to his own wants, Newton did not
forget that his father was, in all probability, in
great distress, and would require his assistance on
his return. He was therefore naturally anxious
not to expend more than was absolutely necessary in
defraying his passage. The old first-lieutenant,
to whom, upon his arrival on board, he was introduced
as commanding officer, received him with much urbanity;
and when Newton stated that he had obtained the captain’s
permission to make the application immediately acceded
to his wishes on the part of his messmates as well
as of himself. When Newton followed up his application,
by requesting to know the expense which he would incur,
as, in case of its being greater than his finances
could meet, he would request permission to choose
a less expensive mess.
“I am aware,” replied
the veteran, “that those who have been shipwrecked,
and in a French prison, are not likely to be very flush
of cash. It is, however, a point on which I
must consult my messmates. Excuse me one moment,
and I will bring you an answer: I have no doubt
but that it will be satisfactorily arranged; but there
is nothing like settling these points at once.
Mr Webster, see that the lighter shoves off the moment
that she is clear,” continued the first-lieutenant
to one of the midshipmen as he descended the quarter-deck
ladder, leaving Newton to walk the quarter-deck.
In a few minutes the first-lieutenant
reappeared, with one or two others of the gun-room
mess, who greeted him most cordially.
“I have seen all that are requisite,”
said he to Newton. “Two I have not spoken
to, the master and the purser; they are both poor men,
with families. If, therefore, you will not be
too proud to accept it, I am requested to offer you
a free passage from the other officers of the mess,
as we feel convinced that your company will more than
repay us. The proportion of the expense of your
passage to the other two will be but one or two pounds; a
trifle, indeed, but still of consequence to them;
and that is the only expense which you will incur.
If you can afford to pay that, any time after your
arrival in England, we shall be most happy to receive
you, and make the passage as comfortable and pleasant
as circumstances will permit.”
To this most liberal proposition Newton
most gladly acceded. The officers who had come
on deck with the first-lieutenant invited Newton below,
where he was introduced to the remainder of the mess,
who were most of them fine young men, as happy and
careless as if youth was to last for ever. Having
pledged each other in a glass of grog, Newton returned
on shore. The next morning he made his arrangements,
paid his bill at the hotel, and before twelve o’clock
was again on board of the frigate, which lay with
the Blue Peter hoisted, and her fore-topsail loose,
waiting for her captain, who was still detained on
shore while the admiral and governor made up their
despatches.
When Newton had applied to the captain
of the frigate for a passage home, he could hardly
believe it possible that the person to whom he was
introduced could be entrusted with the command of so
fine a vessel. He was a slight-made, fair-complexioned
lad of nineteen or twenty years at the most, without
an incipient mark of manhood on his chin. He
appeared lively, active, and good-natured; but what
were the other qualifications he possessed, to discover
such a mark of confidence, were to Newton an enigma
requiring solution.
It was, however, to be explained in
very few words. He was the son of the admiral
of the station, and (as at that period there was no
regulation with respect to age, to check the most rapid
promotion), after he had served his time as midshipman,
in less than two months he had been raised through
the different ranks of lieutenant, commander, and
post-captain. On receiving the latter step, he
was at the same time appointed to the frigate in question,
one of the finest which belonged to his majesty’s
service. In order, however, that he should to
a certain degree be in leading-strings, a very old
and efficient officer had been selected by the admiral
as his first-lieutenant. Whether, in common
justice, the captain and his subordinate ought not
to have changed places, I leave the reader to guess;
and it was the more unfair towards the worthy old
first-lieutenant, as, if the admiral had not entertained
such a high opinion of his abilities and judgment,
as to confide to him the charge of his son, he would
long before have been promoted himself to one of the
many vacancies which so repeatedly occurred.
Captain Carrington had all the faults,
which, if not inherent, will naturally be acquired
by those who are too early intrusted with power.
He was self-sufficient, arbitrary, and passionate.
His good qualities consisted in a generous disposition,
a kindness of heart when not irritated, a manly courage,
and a frank acknowledgment of his errors. Had
he been allowed to serve a proper time in the various
grades of his profession, had he been taught
to obey before he had been permitted to command, he
had within him all the materials for a good officer:
as it was, he was neither officer, sailor, nor any
thing else, except a spoiled boy. He
would often attempt to carry on the duty as captain,
and as often failed from want of knowledge. He
would commence manoeuvring the ship, but find himself
unable to proceed. At these unfortunate break
downs, he would be obliged to resign the speaking-trumpet
to the first-lieutenant; and if, as sometimes happened,
the latter (either from accident, or perhaps from a
pardonable pique at having the duty taken out of his
hands), was not at his elbow to prompt him when at
fault at these times the cant phrase of
the officers, taken from some farce, used to be, “York,
you’re wanted.”
About an hour before sunset the juvenile
captain made his appearance on board, rather fresh
from taking leave of his companions and acquaintances
on shore. The frigate was got under weigh by
the first-lieutenant, and before the sun had disappeared
was bounding over the foaming seas in the direction
of the country which had nurtured to maturity the
gnarled oak selected for her beautiful frame.
Newton joined his new messmates in drinking a prosperous
passage to old England; and, with a heart grateful
for his improved prospects, retired to the hammock
which had been prepared for him.
When Newton rose in the morning, he
found that the wind, had shifted contrary during the
night, and that the frigate was close hauled, darting
through the smooth water with her royals set.
At ten o’clock the master proposed tacking
the ship, and the first-lieutenant went down to report
his wish to the captain.
“Very well, Mr Nourse,”
replied the captain; “turn the hands up.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” replied
the first-lieutenant, leaving the cabin.
“Call the boatswain, quarter-master all
hands ’bout ship.”
“All hands ’bout ship,”
was now bellowed out by the boatswain, and re-echoed
by his mates at the several hatchways, with a due proportion
of whistling from their pipes.
“Tumble up, there tumble up smartly,
my lads.”
In a minute every man was on deck,
and at his station; many of them, however, tumbling
down in their laudable hurry to tumble up.
“Silence there, fore and aft every
man to his station,” cried the first-lieutenant,
through his speaking trumpet. “All ready,
sir,” reported the first-lieutenant to the captain,
who had followed him on deck. “Shall we
put the helm down?”
“If you please, Mr Nourse.”
“Down with the helm.”
When the master reported it down,
“The helm’s a-lee,” roared the first-lieutenant.
But Captain Carrington, who thought
light winds and smooth water a good opportunity for
practice, interrupted him as he was walking towards
the weather gangway: “Mr Nourse, Mr Nourse,
if you please, I’ll work the ship.”
“Very good, sir,” replied
the first-lieutenant, handing him the speaking-trumpet.
“Rise tacks and sheets, if you please, sir,”
continued the first-lieutenant (sotto voce),
“the sails are lifting.”
“Tacks and sheets!” cried the captain.
“Gather in on the lee main-tack,
my lads,” said the first-lieutenant, going to
the lee gangway to see the duty performed.
Now Captain Carrington did know that
“mainsail haul” was the next word of command;
but as this order requires a degree of precision as
to the exact time at which it is given, he looked
over his shoulder for the first-lieutenant, who usually
prompted him in this exigence. Not seeing him
there, he became disconcerted; and during the few seconds
that he cast his anxious eyes about the deck, to discover
where the first-lieutenant was, the ship had passed
head to wind.
“Mainsail haul!” at last
cried the captain; but it was too late; the yards
would not swing round; every thing went wrong; and
the ship was in irons.
“You hauled a little too late,
sir,” observed the first-lieutenant, who had
joined him. “You must box her off, sir,
if you please.”
But Captain Carrington, although he
could put the ship in irons, did not know how to take
her out.
“The ship is certainly most
cursedly out of trim,” observed he; “she’ll
neither wear nor stay. Try her yourself, Mr Nourse,”
continued the captain, “I’m sick of her;” and
with a heightened colour he handed the speaking-trumpet
over to the first-lieutenant.
“York, you’re wanted,”
observed the lieutenant abaft to the marine-officer,
dropping down the corners of his mouth.
“York, you’re wanted,”
tittered the midshipmen, in whispers, as they passed
each other.
“Well, I’ve won your grog,
Jim,” cried one of the marines, who was standing
at the forebrace; “I knew he’d never do
it.”
“He’s like me,”
observed another, in a low tone; “he left school
too arly, and lost his edication.”
Such were the results of injudicious
patronage. A fine ship intrusted to a boy, ignorant
of his duty, laughed at, not only by the officers,
but even by the men; and the honour of the country
at stake, and running no small risk of being tarnished,
if the frigate met with a vigorous opponent. [It
is true that an officer must now serve a certain time
in the various grades before promotion, which time
as supposed to be sufficient for him to acquire a
knowledge of his profession; but whether that knowledge
is obtained, depends, as before, upon the young officer’s
prospects in life. If from family interest he
is sure of promotion, he is not quite so sure
of being a seaman.] Thank God, this is now over!
Judicious regulations have put a stop to such selfish
and short-sighted patronage. Selfish, because
those who were guilty of it risked the honour of the
nation to advance the interests of their proteges;
short-sighted, because it is of little use making a
young man a captain if you cannot make him an officer.
I might here enter into a discussion which might
be of some use, but it would be out of place in a work
intended more for amusement than for instruction; nor
would it in all probability be read. I always
make it a rule myself, to skip over all those parts
introduced in a light work which are of denser materials
than the rest; and I cannot expect but that others
will do the same. There is a time and place for
all things; and like the master of Ravenscourt, “I
bide my time.”
The frigate dashed gallantly through
the water, at one time careening to an adverse wind,
at another rolling, before a favouring gale: and,
to judge from her rapid motion, she was not in such
very bad trim as Captain Carrington had found out.
Each day rapidly brought her nearer to their cherished
home, as “she walked the waters like a thing
of life.” I can conceive no prouder situation
in this world than being captain of a fine frigate,
with a well-disciplined crew; but damn your eight-and-twenties!
“We had better take in the royals,
if you please, sir,” said the first-lieutenant,
as he came, with his hat in his hand, into the cabin,
where the captain was at dinner with several of the
officers, the table crowded with a variety of decanters
and French green bottles.
“Pho! nonsense! Mr Nourse,
we’ll carry them a little longer,” replied
the captain, who had been carrying too much sail
another way. “Sit down and take a glass
of wine with us. You always cry out before you’re
hurt, Nourse.”
“I thank you, sir,” replied
the first-lieutenant, seriously; “you will excuse
me: it is time to beat to quarters.”
“Well, then, do so; I had no
idea it was so late. Mr Forster, you don’t
pass the bottle.”
“I have taken enough, I thank you, sir.”
The officers present also made the same statement.
“Well, then, if you won’t, gentlemen steward,
let’s have some coffee.”
The coffee appeared and disappeared;
and the officers made their bows and quitted the cabin
as the first-lieutenant entered it to report the muster
at quarters.
“All present and sober, sir.
I am afraid, sir,” continued he, “the
masts will be over the side, if we do not clew up the
royals.”
“Stop a moment, if you please,
Mr Nourse, until I go up and judge for myself,”
replied the captain, who was inclined to be pertinacious.
Captain Carrington went on deck.
The men were still ranged round the decks, at their
quarters; more than one pair of eyes were raised aloft
to watch the masts, which were bending like coach-whips,
and complaining bitterly.
“Shall we beat a retreat, and
pipe hands to shorten sail, sir? We had better
take in the third reefs, sir? it looks, very squally
to-night,” observed the first-lieutenant.
“Really, Mr Nourse, I don’t
exactly perceive the necessity ”
But at that moment the fore and main-top-gallant-masts
went over the side; and the look-out man at the fore-top-gallant-mast-head,
who had been called down by the first-lieutenant,
but did not hear the injunction, was hurled into the
sea to leeward.
“Helm down!” cried the master.
“Man overboard! man
overboard!” echoed round the decks; while some
of the officers and men jumped into the quarter boats,
and off the gripes and lashings.
Captain Carrington, who was immediately
sobered by the catastrophe, which he felt had been
occasioned by his own wilfulness, ran aft to the taffrail;
and when he saw the poor sailor struggling in the waves,
impelled by his really fine nature, he darted overboard
to save him; but he was not by any means a powerful
swimmer, and, encumbered with his apparel, it was
soon evident that he could do no more than keep himself
afloat.
Newton, who perceived how matters
stood, with great presence of mind caught up two of
the oars from the boat hanging astern, and darted over
to the assistance of both. One oar he first carried
to the seaman, who was exhausted and sinking.
Placing it under his arms, he then swam with the
other to Captain Carrington, who could not have remained
above water but a few seconds more without the timely
relief. He then quietly swam by the side of
Captain Carrington, without any attempt at extra exertion.
The boat was soon lowered down, and
in a few minutes they were all three again on board,
and in safety. Captain Carrington thanked Newton
for his assistance, and acknowledged his error to
the first-lieutenant. The officers and men looked
upon Newton with respect and increased goodwill; and
the sailors declared that the captain was a prime little
fellow, although he hadn’t had an “edication.”
Nothing worthy of remark occurred
during the remainder of the passage. The ship
arrived at Plymouth, and Newton took leave of his friendly
shipmates, Captain Carrington requesting that Newton
would command any interest that he had, if ever it
should be required. It was with a throbbing
heart that Newton descended from the outside of the
coach which conveyed him to Liverpool, and hastened
towards the obscure street in which he left his father
residing. It was about four o’clock in
the afternoon when Newton arrived at his father’s
door. To his delight, he perceived through the
shop-window that his father was sitting at his bench; but
his joy was checked when he perceived his haggard
countenance. The old man appeared to be absorbed
in deep thought, his cheek resting upon his hand,
and his eyes cast down upon the little bench, to which
the vice used to be fixed, but from which it was now
removed.
The door was ajar, and Newton entered
with his portmanteau in his hand; but whatever noise
he might have made was not sufficient to rouse Nicholas,
who continued in the same position.
With one glance round the shop Newton
perceived that it was bare of every thing; even the
glazed cases on the counter, which contained the spectacles,
etcetera, had disappeared. All bespoke the same
tale, as did the appearance of his father misery
and starvation.
“My dearest father!” cried
Newton, unable to contain himself any longer.
“How! what?”
cried Nicholas, starting at the voice, but not looking
round. “Pho! nonsense! he’s dead,”
continued the old man, communing with himself, as
he again settled into his former position.
“My dearest father, I’m
not dead! look round ’tis
Newton! alive and well.”
“Newton!” replied the
old man, rising from his stool, and tottering to the
counter, which was between them, on which he laid both
his hands to support himself, as he looked into his
son’s face. “’Tis Newton, sure
enough! My dear, dear boy! then you
an’t dead?”
“No, indeed, father; I am alive and well, thank
God!”
“Thank God too!” said
Nicholas, dropping his face on the counter, and bursting
into tears.
Newton sprung over to the side where
his father was, and embraced him. For some time
they were locked in each other’s arms; when Nicholas,
who had recovered his composure, looked at Newton,
and said, “Are you hungry, my dear boy?”
“Yes, indeed I am,” replied
Newton, smiling, as the tears coursed down his cheeks;
“for I have had nothing since breakfast.”
“And I have had nothing for
these two days,” replied Nicholas, leaning back
to the wall in evident exhaustion.
“Good God! you don’t say
so?” cried Newton, “where can I buy something
ready cooked?”
“At the shop round the corner;
there’s a nice piece of boiled beef there; I
saw it yesterday. I offered my improvement on
the duplex for a slice; but he would not trust me,
even for that.”
Newton ran out, and in a few minutes
re-appeared with the beef in question, some bread,
and a pot of porter, with two plates and knives and
forks, which the people had lent him, upon his putting
down a deposit. He laid them on the counter
before his father, who, without saying a word, commenced
his repast: the beef disappeared the
bread vanished the porter-pot was raised
to his mouth, and in a moment it was dry!
“Never made a better dinner,
Newton,” observed Nicholas; “but I wish
there had been a little more of it!”
Newton, who had only been a spectator,
immediately went out for another supply; and on his
return assisted his father in its demolition.
“Newton,” said Nicholas,
who for a few moments had relinquished his task, “I’ve
been thinking that I should like
another slice of that beef! and Newton, as I said
before I’ll trouble you for the porter!”