Peter Simple. Фредерик Марриет
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knees and seized me, calling upon all the saints in the calendar. Although I knew what they meant, not a word of their lingo could I speak, to plead for my life, and I was almost torn to pieces before the priest came up. Perceiving the danger I was in, I wiped my finger across the wet nose of the donkey, crossed myself, and then went down on my knees to the priests, crying out Culpa mea, as all good Catholics do—though ’twas no fault of mine, as I said before, for I tried all I could, and tugged at the brute till my strength was gone. The priests perceived by the manner in which I crossed myself that I was a good Catholic, and guessed that it was all a mistake of the donkey’s. They ordered the crowd to be quiet, and sent for an interpreter, when I explained the whole story. They gave me absolution for what the donkey had done, and after that, as it was very rare to meet an English officer who was a good Christian, I was in great favour during my stay at Minorca, and was living in plenty, paying for nothing, and as happy as a cricket. So the jackass proved a very good friend, and, to reward him, I hired him every day, and galloped him all over the island. But, at last, it occurred to me that I had broken my leave, for I was so happy on shore that I quite forgot that I had only permission for twenty-four hours, and I should not have remembered it so soon, had it not been for a party of marines, headed by a sergeant, who took me by the collar, and dragged me off my donkey. I was taken on board, and put under an arrest for my misconduct.”
“Sail on the starboard-bow!” cried the look-out man.
“Very well,” replied the master; “Mr. O’Brien—where’s Mr. O’Brien?”
“Is it me you mane, sir?” said O’Brien, walking up to the master, for he had sat down so long in the topsail-halyard rack, that he was wedged in, and could not get out immediately.
“Yes, sir; go forward, and see what that vessel is.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” said O’Brien. “And, Mr. Simple,” continued the master, “go down and bring me up my night-glass.”
“Yes, sir,” replied I. I had no idea of a night-glass; and as I observed that about this time his servant brought him up a glass of grog, I thought it very lucky that I knew what he meant.
“Take care that you don’t break it, Mr. Simple.”
“O then, I’m all right,” thought I; “he means the tumbler:” so down I went, called up the gunroom steward, and desired him to give me a glass of grog for Mr. Doball. The steward tumbled out in his shirt, mixed the grog, and gave it to me, and I carried it up very carefully to the quarter-deck.
During my absence, the master had called the captain, and in pursuance of his orders, O’Brien had called the first lieutenant, and when I came up the ladder, they were both on deck. As I was ascending I heard the master say, “I have sent young Simple down for my night-glass, but he is so long, that I suppose he has made some mistake. He’s but half a fool.”
“That I deny,” replied Mr. Falcon, the first lieutenant, just as I put my foot on the quarter-deck; “he’s no fool.”
“Perhaps not,” replied the master. “O, here he is. What made you so long, Mr. Simple—where is my night-glass?”
“Here it is, sir,” replied I, handing him the tumbler of grog; “I told the steward to make it stiff.” The captain and the first lieutenant burst out into a laugh—for Mr. Doball was known to be very fond of grog; the former walked aft to conceal his mirth; but the latter remained. Mr. Doball was in a great rage. “Did I not say that the boy was half a fool?” cried he to the first lieutenant. “At all events, I’ll not allow that he has proved himself so in this instance,” replied Mr. Falcon, “for he has hit the right nail on the head.” Then the first lieutenant joined the captain, and they both went off laughing. “Put it on the capstan, sir,” said Mr. Doball to me, in an angry voice. “I’ll punish you by-and-by.” I was very much astonished; I hardly knew whether I had done right or wrong; at all events, thought I to myself, I did for the best; so I put it on the capstan, and walked to my own side of the deck. The captain and first lieutenant then went below, and O’Brien came aft.
I told him what had occurred, and how the master was angry with me. O’Brien laughed very heartily, and told me never to mind, but to keep in the lee-scuppers and watch him. “A glass of grog is a bait that he’ll play round till he gorges. When you see it to his lips, go up to him boldly, and ask his pardon, if you have offended him, and then, if he’s a good Christian, as I believe him to be, he’ll not refuse it.”
I thought this was very good advice, and I waited under the bulwark on the lee-side. I observed that the master made shorter and shorter turns every time, till at last he stopped at the capstan and looked at the grog. He waited about half a minute, and then he took up the tumbler, and drank about half of it. It was very strong, and he stopped to take breath. I thought that this was the right time, and I went up to him. The tumbler was again to his lips, and before he saw me, I said, “I hope sir, you’ll forgive me; I never heard of a night telescope, and knowing that you had walked so long, I thought you were tired, and wanted something to drink to refresh you.”
“Well, Mr. Simple,” said he, after he had finished the glass, with a deep sigh of pleasure, “as you meant kindly, I shall let you off this time; but recollect, that whenever you bring me a glass of grog again, it must not be in the presence of the captain or first lieutenant.”
At last our watch was over, and about two bells I was relieved by the midshipman of the next watch. It is very unfair not to relieve in time, but if I said a word, I was certain to be thrashed the next day upon some pretence or another. On the other hand, the midshipman whom I relieved was also much bigger than I was, and if I was not up before one bell, I was cut down and thrashed by him: so that between the two I kept much more than my share of the watch, except when the master sent me to bed before it was over.
Chapter Thirteen.
The first lieutenant prescribes for one of his patients, his prescriptions consisting of “draughts” only—O’Brien finishes the history of his life, in which the proverb of “the more the merrier” is sadly disproved—“Shipping” a new pair of boots causes the “unshipping” of their owner—Walking home after a ball; O’Brien meets with an accident.
The next morning I was on deck at seven bells, to see the hammocks stowed, when I was witness to Mr. Falcon, the first lieutenant, having recourse to one of his remedies to cure a mizen-top-boy of smoking, a practice to which he had a great aversion. He never interfered with the men smoking in the galley, or chewing tobacco; but he prevented the boys, that is, lads under twenty or thereabouts, from indulging in the habit too early. The first lieutenant smelt the tobacco as the boy passed him on the quarter-deck. “Why, Neill, you have been smoking,” said the first lieutenant. “I thought you were aware that I did not permit such lads as you to use tobacco.”
“If you please, sir,” replied the mizen-top-boy, touching his hat, “I’se got worms, and they say that smoking be good for them.”
“Good for them!” said the first lieutenant; “yes, very good for them but very bad for you. Why, my good fellow, they’ll thrive upon tobacco until they grow as large as conger eels. Heat is what the worms are fond of; but cold—cold will kill them. Now I’ll cure you. Quarter-master, come here. Walk this boy up and down the weather gangway, and every time you get forward abreast of the main-tack block, put his mouth to windward, squeeze him sharp by the nape of the neck until he opens his mouth wide, and there keep him and let the cold air blow down his throat, while you count ten; then walk him aft, and when you are forward again proceed as before.—Cold kills worms, my poor boy, not tobacco—I wonder that you are not dead by this time.”
A few nights afterwards, when we had the middle watch, O’Brien proceeded with his story.
“Where was it that I left off?”
“You left off at