Peter Simple. Фредерик Марриет
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cat-harpings, because they were so difficult to climb, that a cat would expostulate if ordered to go out by them. I was afraid to venture, and then he proposed that I should go through lubber’s hole, which he said had been made for people like me. I agreed to attempt it, as it appeared more easy, and at last arrived, quite out of breath, and very happy to find myself in the main-top.
The captain of the main-top was there with two other sailors. The midshipman introduced me very politely:– “Mr Jenkins—Mr Simple, midshipman,—Mr Simple, Mr Jenkins, captain of the main-top. Mr Jenkins, Mr Simple has come up with an order for a cocked-hat.” The captain of the top replied that he was very sorry that he had not one in store, but the last had been served out to the captain’s monkey. This was very provoking. The captain of the top then asked me if I was ready with my footing.
I replied, “Not very, for I had lost it two or three times when coming up.” He laughed and replied, that I should lose it altogether before I went down; and that I must hand it out. “Hand out my footing!” said I, puzzled, and appealing to the midshipman; “what does he mean?”
“He means that you must fork out a seven-shilling bit.”
I was just as wise as ever, and stared very much; when Mr Jenkins desired the other men to get half-a-dozen foxes and make a spread eagle of me, unless he had his parkisite. I never should have found out what it all meant, had not the midshipman, who laughed till he cried, at last informed me that it was the custom to give the men something to drink the first time that I came aloft, and that if I did not, they would tie me up to the rigging.
Having no money in my pocket, I promised to pay them as soon as I went below; but Mr Jenkins would not trust me. “Why, sir,” said I, “do you know who you are speaking to? I am an officer and a gentleman. Do you know who my grandfather is?”
“O yes,” replied he, “very well.”
“Then, who is he, sir?” replied I, very angrily.
“Who is he! why he’s the Lord knows who.”
“No,” replied I, “that’s not his name; he is Lord Privilege.” (I was very much surprised that he knew that my grandfather was a lord.) “And do you suppose,” continued I, “that I would forfeit the honour of my family for a paltry seven shillings?”
This observation of mine, and a promise on the part of the midshipman, who said he would be bail for me, satisfied Mr Jenkins, and he allowed me to go down the rigging. I went to my chest, and paid the seven shillings to one of the topmen who followed me, and then went up on the main-deck to learn as much as I could of my profession.
Chapter Eight
My messmates show me the folly of running in debt—the episode of Sholto McFoy
Now that I have been on board about a month, I find that my life is not disagreeable. I don’t smell the pitch and tar, and I can get into my hammock without tumbling out on the other side. My messmates are good-tempered, although they laugh at me very much: but I must say that they are not very nice in their ideas of honour. A few days after I came onboard, I purchased some tarts of the bumboat woman, as she is called; I wished to pay for them, but she had no change, and very civilly told me she would trust me. She produced a narrow book, and said that she would open an account with me, and I could pay her when I thought proper. To this arrangement I had no objection, and I sent up for different things until I thought that my account must have amounted to eleven or twelve shillings. As I promised my father that I never would run in debt, I considered that it was then time that it should be settled. When I asked for it, what was my surprise to find that it amounted to 2 pounds 14 shillings, 6 pence. I declared that it was impossible, and requested that she would allow me to look at the items, when I found that I was booked for at least three or four dozen tarts every day, ordered by the young gentlemen “to be put down to Mr Simple’s account.” I was very much shocked, not only at the sum of money which I had to pay, but also at the want of honesty on the part of my messmates; but when I complained of it in the berth, they all laughed at me.
At last one of them said, “Peter, tell the truth; did not your father caution you not to run in debt?”
“Yes, he did,” replied I.
“I know that very well,” replied he: “all fathers do the same when their sons leave them; it’s a matter of course. Now observe, Peter; it is out of regard to you, that your messmates have been eating tarts at your expense. You disobeyed your father’s injunctions before you had been a month from home; and it is to give you a lesson that may be useful in after-life, that they have considered it their duty to order the tarts. I trust that it will not be thrown away upon you. Go to the woman, pay your bill, and never run up another.”
“That I certainly shall not,” replied I; but as I could not prove who ordered the tarts, and did not think it fair that the woman should lose her money, I went up and paid the bill, with a determination never to open an account with anybody again.
But this left my pockets quite empty, so I wrote to my father, stating the whole transaction, and the consequent state of my finances. My father, in his answer, observed that whatever might have been their motives, my messmates had done me a friendly act; and that as I had lost my money by my own carelessness, I must not expect that he would allow me any more pocket-money. But my mother, who added a postscript to his letter, slipped in a five-pound note, and I do believe that it was with my father’s sanction, although he pretended to be very angry at my forgetting his injunctions.
A few days before this, Mr Falcon, the first lieutenant, ordered me to put on my side-arms to go away on duty. I replied that I had neither dirk nor cocked hat, although I had applied for them. He laughed at my story, and sent me on shore with the master, who bought them, and the first lieutenant sent up the bill to my father, who paid it, and wrote to thank him for his trouble. That morning, the first lieutenant said to me, “Now, Mr Simple, we’ll take the shine off that cocked hat and dirk of yours. You will go in the boat with Mr O’Brien, and take care that none of the men slip away from it and get drunk at the tap.”
This was the first time that I had ever been sent away on duty, and I was very proud of being an officer in charge. I put on my full uniform, and was ready at the gangway a quarter of an hour before the men were piped away. We were ordered to the dockyard to draw sea-stores. When we arrived there, I was quite astonished at the piles of timber, the ranges of storehouses, and the immense anchors which lay on the wharf. There was such a bustle, everybody appeared to be so busy, that I wanted to look every way at once. Close to where the boat landed, they were hauling a large frigate out of what they called the basin; and I was so interested with the sight, that I am sorry to say, I quite forgot all about the boat’s crew, and my orders to look after them. Two of the men: belonging to the boat slipped away, and on my return they were not to be seen, I was very much frightened, for I knew that I had neglected my duty, and that on the first occasion on which I had been entrusted with responsible service. What to do I did not know. I ran up and down every part of the dock-yard until I was quite out of breath, asking every body I met whether they had seen my two men. Many of them said that they had seen plenty of men, but did not exactly know mine; some laughed, and called me a greenhorn. At last I met a midshipman, who told me that he had seen two men answering to my description on the roof of the coach starting for London, and that I must be quick if I wished to catch them; but he would not stop to answer any more questions.
I was proceeding on very disconsolately, when, as I turned a corner, to my great delight, I met my two men, who touched their hats and said that they had been looking for me. I did not believe that they told the truth, but I was so glad to recover them, that I did not scold, but went with them down to the boat, which had been waiting some time for us. O’Brien, the master’s mate, called me a young sculping, a word I had never heard before. When we arrived on board, the first lieutenant asked O’Brien why he had remained so long. He answered that two of the men had left the boat, but that I had found them. The first lieutenant appeared to be pleased with me, observing, as he had said before, that I was no fool, and I went down below overjoyed at my good fortune, and very much obliged to O’Brien for not telling the whole truth.
A day or two afterwards, we had a new messmate of the name of