The World's Greatest Books - Volume 6 Part 31

At this affront, Mr. Easthupp rallied, and accepted the pistol offered by the gunner.

"You 'ear those words, Mr. Biggs? Pretty language to use to a gentleman!

I purtest no longer, Mr. Tallboys. Death before dishonour--I'm a gentleman!"

The gunner gave the word as if he were exercising the great guns on board s.h.i.+p.

"c.o.c.k your locks! Take good aim at the object! Fire!"

Mr. Easthupp clapped his hand to his trousers, gave a loud yell, and then dropped down, having presented his broadside as a target to the boatswain. Jack's shot had also taken effect, having pa.s.sed through both the boatswain's cheeks, without further mischief than extracting two of his best upper double teeth, and forcing through the hole of the farther cheek the boatswain's own quid of tobacco. As for Mr. Easthupp's ball, as he was very unsettled and shut his eyes before he fired, it had gone heaven knows where.

The purser's steward lay on the ground and screamed; the boatswain threw down his pistol in a rage. The former was then walked off to the hospital, attended by the gunner, and also the boatswain, who thought he might as well have a little medical advice before going on board.

"Well, Easy," said Gascoigne, collecting the pistols and tying them up in his handkerchief, "I'll be shot, but we're in a pretty sc.r.a.pe; there's no hus.h.i.+ng this up. I'll be hanged if I care; it's the best piece of fun I ever met with."

"I'm afraid that our leave will be stopped for the future," replied Jack.

"Confound it, and they say that the s.h.i.+p is to be here six weeks at least. I won't go on board. Look ye, Jack, we'll pretend to be so much alarmed at the result of this duel, that we dare not show ourselves lest we should be hung. I will write a note and tell all the particulars to the master's mate, and refer to the gunner for the truth of it, and beg him to intercede with the captain and first lieutenant. I know that although we should be punished, they will only laugh; but I will pretend that Easthupp is killed, and we are frightened out of our lives. That will be it; and then let's get on board one of the fruit boats, sail in the night for Palermo, and then we'll have a cruise for a fortnight, and when the money is all gone we'll come back."

"That's a capital idea, Ned, and the sooner we do it the better."

They were two very nice lads.

_IV.--Jack Leaves the Service_

At the end of four years at sea, Jack had been cured of his philosophy of equality. The death of his mother, and a letter from the old family doctor that his father was not in his senses, decided him to return home.

"It is fortunate for you that the estate is entailed," wrote Dr.

Middleton, "or you might soon be a beggar, for there is no saying what debts your father might, in his madness, be guilty of. He has turned away his keepers, and allowed poachers to go all over the manor. I consider that it is absolutely necessary that you should immediately return home and look after what will one day be your property. You have no occasion to follow the profession with your income of 8,000 per annum. You have distinguished yourself, now make room for those who require it for their subsistence."

Captain Wilson approved of the decision, and Jack left the service. At his request, his devoted admirer Mesty--an abbreviation of Mephistopheles--an African, once a prince in Ashantee and now the cook of the mids.h.i.+pmen's mess, was allowed to leave the service and accompany our hero to England as his servant.

From the first utterances of Jack on the subject of liberty and equality, he had won Mesty's heart, and in a hundred ways the black had proved his fidelity and attachment. His delight at going home with his patron was indescribable.

Jack had not written to his father to announce his arrival, and when he reached home he found things worse than he expected.

His father was at the mercy of his servants, who, insolent and insubordinate, robbed, laughed at, and neglected him. The waste and expense were enormous. Our hero, who found how matters stood, soon resolved what to do.

He rose early; Mesty was in the room, with warm water, as soon as he rang.

"By de power, Ma.s.sa Easy, your fader very silly old man!"

"I'm afraid so," replied Jack. "How are they getting on in the servants'

hall?"

"Regular mutiny, sar--ab swear dat dey no stand our nonsense, and dat we both leave the house to-morrow."

Jack went to his father.

"Do you hear, sir, your servants declare that I shall leave your house to-morrow."

"You leave my house, Jack, after four years' absence! No, no, I'll reason with them--I'll make them a speech. You don't know how I can speak, Jack."

"Look you, father, I cannot stand this. Either give me _carte blanche_ to arrange this household as I please, or I shall quit it myself to-morrow morning."

"Quit my house, Jack! No, no--shake hands and make friends with them; be civil, and they will serve you."

"Do you consent, sir, or am I to leave the house?"

"Leave the house! Oh, no; not leave the house, Jack. I have no son but you. Then do as you please--but you will not send away my butler--he escaped hanging last a.s.sizes on an undoubted charge of murder? I selected him on purpose, and must have him cured, and shown as a proof of a wonderful machine I have invented."

"Mesty," said Jack, "get my pistols ready for to-morrow morning, and your own too--do you hear? It is possible, father, that you may not have yet quite cured your murderer, and therefore it is as well to be prepared."

Mr. Easy did not long survive his son's return, and under Jack's management, in which Mesty rendered invaluable a.s.sistance, the household was reformed, and the estate once more conducted on reasonable lines.

A year later Jack was married, and Mesty, as major domo, held his post with dignity, and proved himself trustworthy.

Peter Simple

"Peter Simple," published in 1833, is in many respects the best of all Marryat's novels. Largely drawn from Marryat's own professional experiences, the story, with its vivid portraiture and richness of incident, is told with rare atmosphere and style. Hogg placed the character of "Peter Simple" on a level with Fielding's "Parson Adams;" Edgar Allan Poe, on the other hand, found Marryat's works "essentially mediocre."

_I.--I am Sacrificed to the Navy_

I think that had I been permitted to select my own profession in childhood, I should in all probability have bound myself apprentice to a tailor, for I always envied the comfortable seat which they appeared to enjoy upon the s...o...b..ard. But my father, who was a clergyman of the Church of England and the youngest brother of a n.o.ble family, had a lucrative living, and a "soul above b.u.t.tons," if his son had not. It has been from time immemorial the custom to sacrifice the greatest fool of the family to the prosperity and naval superiority of the country, and at the age of fourteen, I was selected as the victim.

My father, who lived in the North of England, forwarded me by coach to London, and from London I set out by coach for Portsmouth.

A gentleman in a plaid cloak sat by me, and at the Elephant and Castle a drunken sailor climbed up by the wheel of the coach and sat down on the other side.

I commenced a conversation with the gentleman in the plaid cloak relative to my profession, and asked him whether it was not very difficult to learn.

"Larn," cried the sailor, interrupting us, "no; it may be difficult for such chaps as me before the mast to larn; but you, I presume, is a reefer, and they ain't not much to larn, 'cause why, they pipe-clays their weekly accounts, and walks up and down with their hands in their pockets. You must larn to chaw baccy and drink grog, and then you knows all a mids.h.i.+pman's expected to know nowadays. Ar'n't I right, sir?" said the sailor, appealing to the gentleman in a plaid cloak. "I axes you, because I see you're a sailor by the cut of your jib. Beg pardon, sir,"

continued he, touching his hat; "hope no offence."

"I am afraid that you have nearly hit the mark, my good fellow," replied the gentleman.

At the bottom of Portsdown Hill I inquired how soon we should be at Portsmouth. He answered that we were pa.s.sing the lines; but I saw no lines, and I was ashamed to show my ignorance. The gentleman in a plaid cloak asked me what s.h.i.+p I was going to join, and whether I had a letter of introduction to the captain.

"Yes, I have," replied I. And I pulled out my pocket-book, in which the letter was. "Captain Savage, H.M. s.h.i.+p Diomede," I read.