Chapter 16

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_ CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

To England we with favouring gale,
Our gallant ship up Channel steer;
When running under easy sail,
The light blue western cliffs appear.

How often and often have those cheerful lines been sung by young, and light, and happy hearts, beating high with anticipations of happiness, and thoughts of the homes they are about to revisit after long years of absence. Such was the song sung in the midshipmen's berth of the Doris, as once more our gallant frigate entered the chops of the Channel, and we were looking forward to seeing again those western cliffs which often and often we had pictured to ourselves awake, and seen in our dreams asleep.

I will not dwell on the feeling with which "Sweethearts and wives" was drunk on the last Saturday evening in the midshipmen's berth as well as in every mess in the ship; not that the young gentlemen themselves had any one who could properly be designated as one or the other, but they might hope to have, and that was the next thing to it.

I thought of poor McAllister, cut down in his early manhood, and of his poor Mary, and I resolved if possible to fulfil his request, and to go and tell her about him. It was a task I would gladly have avoided. Then again, what an unsatisfactory account I must give to Bertha of poor Ceaton. His expectation of dying soon might be mere fancy, but it was very evident that his spirits had never recovered the shock he had received when he killed Captain Staghorn, and he felt himself branded with the mark of Cain.

I was far from recovered from my last wound, and, altogether, my anticipations of pleasure were tempered with many causes for sorrow. However, I do not wish to appear sentimental, though I do wish to hint that midshipmen, even when returning home, must not expect to find unclouded happiness.

We had still some leagues to traverse, and it was possible that we might fall in with an enemy, and have another battle to fight, before we could reach home. Not that any one had any objection to so doing; on the contrary, no one expected for a moment that we could meet an enemy without coming off the victor, and being able to sail into Portsmouth harbour with our prize. A sharp look-out was accordingly kept on every side, as we sailed up Channel, but by that time few French cruisers remained daring enough to show themselves near the British coasts, and the Needle Rocks at length hove in sight, and with a leading breeze we ran up inside the Isle of Wight, and anchored at Spithead among a large fleet there assembled.

After waiting two days, uncertain as to our fate, we received orders to go into harbour to be paid off. I need not describe the operation, nor the scenes which took place after it. Each man received a considerable sum, and I believe that before many days were over, half the number had spent, in the most childish way, the larger portion, and some, every shilling of their hard-earned gains, and were ready again to go afloat.

Most of the officers had gone on shore, and Spellman, and Grey, and I, and other midshipmen, were preparing to take our departure, when we went to bid farewell to Mr Johnson.

"Mr Merry, I hope that we shall not part just yet," he said with great feeling, taking my hand. "The ship is to be left in charge of the gunner, and I have obtained leave to go up to London to visit my wife, and for other reasons. Now it will afford me great pleasure if you and Mr Grey will make my house your resting-place on your way home, or rather I should say my wife's house, for, as I told you, she is a lady of independent fortune. Indeed, Mr Merry, friends as we are afloat, I know the customs of the service too well to ask you, a quarter-deck officer, to my house under other circumstances."

"Don't speak of that, Mr Johnson," said I, feeling sure that he would be pleased if I accepted his invitation, and wishing perhaps a little to gratify my own curiosity. "I shall be delighted to go to your house. You forget how much I am indebted to you for having several times saved my life, and that puts us on an equality on shore, if not on board; besides, remember I know all about your wife, and I do not think that I ever returned you the letter you gave me for her when you thought you might be killed."

"All right, Mr Merry; don't let's have any protestations; we're brother seamen and shipmates, and thoroughly appreciate each other, though some of the incidents I mentioned in my wonderful narratives might shake some people's confidence in my veracity," he remarked, again grasping my hand.

"However, that is neither here nor there. You understand me, and that's enough. If you and Mr Grey like, we will take a post-chaise between us, and post up to town. I am impatient to be at home, and you will have no objection, I dare say, to whisk as fast along the road as four posters can make the wheels go round."

Grey and I willingly agreed to Mr Johnson's proposition. Spellman was not asked, and had he been, we concluded that he would not have accepted the invitation, so we said nothing about it to him. We had a jolly paying-off dinner, with the usual speeches, and compliments, and toasts. After the health of the King was drunk and all the Royal family, and other important personages, Mr Bryan got up and said--

"Now, gentlemen, I have to propose the health of a shipmate, of, I may say, a brother officer of mine, Lieutenant Perigal, with three times three." Saying this, he pulled out of his pocket one of those long official documents, such as are well-known to emanate from my Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty.

"Come at last! hurrah!--well, it will make my dear wife happy," were the first words the delighted Perigal could utter. I honoured him for them. Faithful and honest, he was a true sailor. I afterwards had the pleasure of meeting his young wife, and she was worthy of all the eulogiums he had delighted when absent to pass on her. He had picked up a fair share of prize-money, otherwise his half-pay of ninety pounds a year was not much on which to support a wife and to keep up the appearance of a gentleman. I was in hopes that Mr Bryan would himself have been promoted, but he was not. Mr Fitzgerald, however, very shortly afterwards received his commission as a commander. Bobus declared that it was because he had stood on his head before the King and made him laugh, or because he had amused some other great person by one of his wonderful stories. I met him one day, and congratulated him.

"Ah, merit, merit does everything, Mr Merry, next to zeal," he exclaimed, with a chuckle.

"You always were a zealous officer; and now I think of it, you are the very midshipman who took off his trousers and blew into them, when no other sail or wind was to be had for love or money, and the captain was in a hurry to get your boat back. I've often told the story since of you, and set it all down to your zeal."

"Well, let this be your consolation, if others do not recognise your services, I will when I am one of the Lords of the Admiralty."

"Well, sir," said I, "I hope that you will make haste to climb up into that honourable position, or the war will be over, and I shall not have secured my commission." I did not think that it would be polite to have replied, I thank you for nothing, but certainly I did not expect ever to benefit much by his patronage.

To return to the paying-off dinner. I wish that I could say that all present retired quietly to their respective inns and lodgings as sober as judges; but, with the exception of Grey and me, I believe that not one could have managed to toe a plank, had they been suddenly ordered to make the attempt. I speak of things as they were in those days, not as they are now. Happily at the present day it is considered highly disgraceful for an officer to be drunk; and not only is it disgraceful, but subversive of discipline, whether he is on or off duty, and thus injurious to the interests of the service, and prejudicial to his own health and morals. Taking the matter up only in a personal point of view, how can a man tell how he will behave when he has allowed liquor to steal away his wits? what mischief he may do himself, what injury he may inflict on others? In the course of my career I have seen hundreds of young men ruined in health and prospects, and many, very many, brought to a premature grave by this pernicious habit of drinking.

"But what is the harm of getting drunk once in a way?" I have heard many a shipmate ask.

I say, a vast deal of harm. How can you tell what you will do, while you are thus once-in-a-way drunk? I, an old sailor, and not an over strait-laced one either, do warn most solemnly you young midshipmen, and others, who may read my memoirs, that numbers have had to rue most bitterly, all their after lives, that once-in-a-way getting drunk, or, I may say, taking more than a moderate allowance of liquor. Many fine promising young fellows, who have at first shown no signs of caring for liquor, have ultimately become addicted to drinking, from that most dangerous habit of _taking a nip_ whenever they have an opportunity.

"But why call that a dangerous habit?" shipmates have asked me. "A nip is only _just a taste_ of spirits, raw it may be, or perhaps even watered. It's a capital thing for the stomach, and keeps out cold, and saves many a fellow from illness."

So it may, say I. But it is the nip extra I dread, with good reason; the nip when no such necessity exists, or rather excuse, for a man may pass years without positively requiring spirits to preserve his health. However, not to weary my readers with the subject, I will conclude it, by urging them to be most watchful, lest they take the first step in this or any other vice. How many fall, because they think that vice is manly. Which is the most manly person, he who yields to his foes, or he who, with his back to a tree, boldly keeps them at bay? No greater foes to a man's happiness and prosperity than his vices--or sin. No man can expect to escape being attacked by sin, and those who are its slaves already cry out, "Yield to it; yield to it. It's a pleasant master. Just try its yoke; you can get free, you know, whenever you like."

Never was a greater falsehood uttered, or one more evidently invented by the father of lies. The yoke of sin is most galling; it is the hardest of task-masters. The people who talk thus do their utmost to hide their chains, to conceal their sufferings, which giving way to sin has brought upon them. Do not trust to them, whatever their rank or character in the world. I would urge you from the highest of motives, from love for the Saviour who died for you, not to give way to sin; and I would point out to you how utterly low, and degrading, and unmanly it is to yield to such a foe--a foe so base and cowardly, that if you make any real effort to withstand him, he will fly before you. Don't be ashamed to pray for help through Him, and you are not on equal terms unless you do. That's not unmanly. Sin has got countless allies ever ready to come to its support. By prayer you will obtain one--but that One is all powerful, all sufficient. It is my firm belief that He, and He alone, is the only ally in whom you can place implicit reliance. Others may fall away at the times of greatest need. He, and He alone, will never desert you; will remain firm and constant till the battle of life is over.

Now some of my readers, perhaps, will exclaim, "Hillo, Mr Midshipman Marmaduke Merry, have _you_ taken to preaching? You, who have been describing that extraordinary old fellow Jonathan Johnson, with his veracious narratives, and wonderful deeds. You've made a mistake. You've taken it into your head to write some sermons for sailors, and you've got hold by mistake of the manuscript of your own adventures."

Pardon me, I have made no mistake, I reply. When I was Midshipman Marmaduke Merry, I did not preach; I did not often give good advice as I do now. I wish that I had, and I wish that I had taken it oftener than I did. What I do now is to afford the result of my experience at the close of a long life; and it is that experience by which I wish you to benefit. I quote the Scriptures, and I believe in the Scriptures for many reasons. One of them is--that I have ever seen Scripture promises fulfilled, and Scripture threats executed. Now let me ask you what would you say to a man whose father, or some other relative, had been storing up gold or other articles of value, and which, when offered to him, he should refuse to accept, on the plea that they cost much trouble, and occupied so many years to collect, that they must be useless? You would say that such a man is an idiot. Yet is not experience, or rather the good advice which results from experience, treated over and over again by worldly idiots exactly in that way? Do not you, dear readers, join that throng of idiots. Take an old man's advice, and ponder over the matters of which I have just now been speaking. This exhortation has arisen out of our paying-off dinner. I might have given you a very amusing account of that same feast--though it was not "a feast of reason," albeit it might have been a "flow of soul;" but I am not in the vein, the fact being, that paying-off dinners are melancholy affairs to look back at. How few of those assembled round the festive board, who have been our companions for the previous three, or four, or perhaps five years, through storm and battles and hardships, ever meet again!

Some have grown in honour, some have sunk in dishonour; some have struggled on with services unrequited, and have become soured and discontented; others again, in spite of their humble worldly position, have retained good spirits and kindly feelings, and though now old lieutenants with grey hairs, appear to be the same warm happy-hearted beings they were when midshipmen. Should any of the readers not meet with the success they desire, I hope that they will belong to the last class; but I am very certain that they will not, unless, as midshipmen, they avoid evil courses, and fall not into the paths of sin.

The morning after that paying-off dinner, Grey and I were up early, and had breakfasted, when a yellow chaise drew up at the door of the Blue Posts, and in the interior appeared seated a very dignified-looking gentleman in plain clothes, whom we had no difficulty in distinguishing as Mr Jonathan Johnson. Toby Bluff, who was on the box, got down and opened the door, when Mr Johnson, getting out, inquired with a paternal air, whether we were ready to start.

Our portmanteaus, flattened and wrinkled, containing the remainder of those articles which on starting could with difficulty be stowed in our bulky chests, being strapped on, we jumped in, followed by Mr Johnson, and Toby remounting the box, up High Street we rattled at a tremendous pace, exactly suited to our feelings.

"This is pleasant, isn't it, young gentlemen?" exclaimed Mr Johnson, rubbing his hands. "I never like to let the grass grow under my feet either ashore or afloat. Sometimes, to be sure, one has to sit still, and wait to do nothing, the most trying thing in the world to do. However, when you do keep moving, take care to move forward. Some people move backward, remember. I have from time to time given you bits of good advice, and I dare say that you have been surprised to hear them from an old fellow who could spin such an outrageous yarn as my veracious narrative, but I hope that its very extravagance will have prevented you from supposing for a moment that I am capable of falsehood myself, or would encourage it in others; still I must own that I have been guilty of a piece of deceit, though I did not at the first intend to deceive. I will tell you the circumstances of the case, and then condemn me as I deserve. I told you that my wife was a lady of rank and education. My father was really very well connected, and when I was a young man staying with him, I met the daughter of a country gentleman of property, with whom I fell in love, and she had no objection to me. Her parents, however, would not hear of the match, and I was sent off to sea. Though only a warrant officer, I always liked good society when I could enter it, and on one occasion some few years back, having gone for that purpose to Bath, I was introduced to a lady who was, I was informed, the Baroness Strogonoff. Before long I discovered that she was the widow of a Russian baron, and that she was no other than my old flame. I found that she had always felt an interest for me, and in fact that she would have married me had she been allowed. I naturally asked her if she would now, and she said Yes. I told her that I was now in the navy, and an officer, and though this was true, I felt that I committed a great fault in not telling her that I was only a warrant officer. I was flush of prize-money at the time, and could make a very good appearance, which, as you may suppose, I did not fail to do. The result was that all her old affection for me returned, and that, to cut the matter short, we married.

"Here was I, a poor boatswain, the husband of a rich baroness, she of course, you'll understand, not knowing that I was a poor boatswain, or rather, what a boatswain is. Now, if there's one thing more than another sticks in my throat, it is the thought of a man being dependent on a woman, let her be who she may, for his support, if he can support himself. Now I had the greatest affection and respect for my wife, but this feeling always came between me and my happiness. While living with her I only spent my own prize-money on myself; and though I would gladly have remained with her, as soon as I was appointed to a ship I resolved to go to sea. I was not worse off than any post-captain or other officer in the service in this respect. I told her that duty called me to sea, and, though evidently with great unwillingness, she would not stop me in the path of duty. Ah, young gentlemen, my Baroness is a true woman, and I only wish for her sake that I was a post-captain, and in the fair way of becoming an admiral. She deserves it, anyhow. I have, I believe, a distant cousin a baronet, and as I believe that it gives me some importance in the eyes of her friends, I talk about him occasionally in their presence. Not that I care a fig for rank myself, except as far as it may gratify her. So packing up my traps I joined my ship, not allowing any one on board to know even that I was married. I felt very sad, but I kept my affairs to myself, and tried to do my duty to the best of my power. I went to India, and you may be sure I collected all the most beautiful presents I could think of for my dear wife. I picked up, too, a good share of prize-money, so that I felt I might return home with a clear conscience, and the prospect of being well received. I was not mistaken, for my wife was overjoyed at my return, and would, I believe, have been so had I come back without a single jewel or shawl for her, and without a guinea in my pocket. This time I was able to leave a handsome sum of money with her, of which I begged her acceptance, for you see I knew that if she died before me, I had always my pension to fall back on, or Greenwich, and that I should have ample for all my wants; and I felt a proud satisfaction in adding to her comfort and enjoyment by every means in my power, for I doubt if any other boatswain in the service can boast of having a baroness for his wife."

"I should think not, Mr Johnson," said I. "But then, I do not think that any other boatswain in the service deserves one so much as you." He pulled up his shirt collar and looked highly pleased at this remark.

"You think so, Mr Merry? You are a young gentleman of discernment in most matters, and I hope are so in this respect," he answered. "However, when you see the Baroness, I think that you will confess that a man must be worth something to be worthy of her."

Thus we talked on, and I fancy that our tongues were not silent for a minute together during the whole journey.

The last stage we had four horses.

"I like to go home in style," observed Mr Johnson. "Not on my own account, you'll understand, but because it pleases the Baroness, and makes her neighbours suppose that her husband is a person of consequence."

We darted along at a fine rate, and at length drew up at the door of a very pretty villa in the neighbourhood of London, without having had to drive through the city itself. We sat still, while Mr Johnson sprang out, and we saw him through the windows cordially welcomed by a really very handsome-looking lady of somewhat large proportions, whom we had no doubt was the Baroness herself. In this conjecture we were right, and Mr Johnson soon returning, introduced us in due form to her. She received us most graciously and kindly, indeed in the most good-natured manner, and told us that we were welcome to stay at her house as long as we pleased. She seemed a warm-hearted unsophisticated person, and I should have said not over-refined or highly educated. Had she been so, I confess that I do not think she would have married my worthy friend Jonathan Johnson. A room was quickly prepared for us, and we found ourselves in five minutes perfectly at home. We were shortly discussing a capital dinner, and as I looked at our well-dressed host at the foot of the table, I could scarcely believe that he was the same person who, a few days before, was carrying on duty with chain and whistle round his neck as boatswain of the Doris. During dinner the Baroness announced that she had fixed on the following evening, before she knew of her husband's intended return, to give a rout, and she pressed us so warmly to stay for it, that we, nothing loath, consented to do so. We were able to do this, as we had not mentioned any day positively for our appearance at our own homes. We spent the next morning in visiting with Mr Johnson the sights of London, but we returned early, as he was unwilling to be long absent from his wife. After dinner a host of servants came in, and in a rapid space of time prepared the house for the reception of the expected guests. It was well lighted up, and I was quite dazzled with its appearance. Still more so was I, when the Baroness came down glittering with jewels, and the guests began to assemble, and, as far as I could judge, there appeared to be a number of people of some rank and consequence among them. There was a conservatory and a tent full of flowers at the end of a broad passage, all gaily lighted up, and several rooms thrown open for dancing, and a band soon struck up, and the Baroness introduced Grey and me to some capital partners, and we were soon toeing and heeling-it away to our hearts' content. We had plenty to say to the young ladies about our battles and other adventures, and of course we took care not to speak of Mr Johnson, though more than one, I thought, pointedly asked what his rank was in the navy. I replied, carelessly, that he was a very brave officer, who had greatly distinguished himself, and that he had more than once saved my life, so that there was no man in existence for whom I had a greater regard. I believe that my remarks, without departing in the slightest degree from the truth, were calculated to raise the gallant boatswain in the estimation of his wife's friends. Scarcely had I sat down, than I was again on my legs, prancing with my partners up and down the room. I was standing quiet for a moment, having reached the foot of the dance, and placed my partner in a seat, when I felt a tap on my shoulder, and looking round, whom should I see but Captain Collyer.

"What, you here, Merry!" he exclaimed. "How had you the good fortune to be introduced to the Baroness?"

"Mr Johnson brought us here, sir," said I, very naturally, without a moment's reflection.

"Mr Johnson!" muttered the captain, in a tone of surprise. "Who is he?"

I was about to reply, when, on looking up, there I saw him across the room, standing looking at us with a comical expression of vexation on his countenance. His eye catching that of the captain, he immediately advanced, and said quietly--

"I was not aware, Captain Collyer, that you were coming here, or I should have let you know beforehand my position in this house. I know, as you are aware, the difference between a post-captain and a boatswain, and I should not have presumed to invite you, though as master here, I am honoured by receiving you; but you see, sir, that you may do me much harm in my social position, or render me considerable service, in the way you treat me. I am in your hands."

"I wish to treat you as one of the bravest and most dashing officers in His Majesty's service deserves to be treated," answered the captain, warmly. "How you became the husband of a lady of title, I will not stop to enquire, but I cannot help thinking that you will be wise to give up the sea, and to remain by her side. The service will lose one of the best boatswains who ever served His Majesty, but the Baroness will gain a good husband; and I shall be happy to associate with one I esteem as a friend and equal, which the etiquette of the service would prevent me under present circumstances from doing."

"I thank you most cordially, Captain Collyer--from my heart, I do," exclaimed Mr Johnson. "But you see, sir, I love the service dearly, and should be loath to quit it; and I love my independence, and should be unwilling to lose that. I mean that I should be sorry to become dependent even on my wife for support, while I am able to work for it myself. I have explained my feeling and motives, and I hope that you will consider them right."

"Indeed I do, and honour you for them," answered the captain. "But still, Mr Johnson, I think that you should take the lady's opinion on the subject. I suspect that when she knows the true state of the case, she would far rather you remained at home than have to go knocking about the salt ocean, without the prospect of bettering yourself."

"That's the only fault I have to find with the service," said Mr Johnson. "Perhaps I have been dreaming, when living on in hopes that some change might be made whereby I might benefit myself, that is, rise in the service, which has ever been my ambition. Why should not a warrant be a stepping-stone to a commission through extraordinary good conduct in the navy, just as a sergeant may hope to rise in the army? I don't mean, sir, that I wish to see the present class of boatswains obtain commissions, but with that reward in view, a better class of men would enter the service, and it would improve the character of the warrant officers."

"So it might, but a large proportion would fail in obtaining their ends, and then we should have a number of discontented warrant officers, instead of being, as at present, the best satisfied men in the service."

"There's force in that objection, Captain Collyer; the matter requires consideration," answered our host. "You must not rank me, however, among the discontented ones. I have long made up my mind to take things as they are, though I hope that I should not have been found wanting, had I attained a far higher rank than I now hold."

While we were talking, I had observed a dapper little well-dressed man come into the room, and look eagerly around. He soon discovered the Baroness, and having talked to her for some time in an animated style, he advanced with her towards us. He then ran forward, and taking Mr Johnson's huge paw in his hand, he wrung it warmly, exclaiming--

"I congratulate you, Sir Jonathan Johnson, and your amiable and charming lady--indeed I do, from the bottom of my heart--on your accession to title and property. As you never saw, or indeed, I fancy, never heard of, your relative the late baronet, your grief need not be very poignant on that account, so we'll say nothing about it just now. I have been working away like a mouse in a cheese ever since I got an inkling that you were the rightful heir, and have only just discovered the last link in the chain of evidence; and then, having rigged myself out, as you nautical gentlemen would say, in a presentable evening suit, I hurried off here; and so there's no doubt about it, and I should like to give way to an honest hearty cheer to prove my satisfaction."

Our friend's countenance was worthy of the pencil of a painter, while the little lawyer was thus running on. His astonishment for a time overpowered his satisfaction.

"I Sir Jonathan Johnson!" he at length slowly exclaimed. "I a baronet-- I the possessor of a title and fortune--I no longer a rattan-using, call-blowing, grog-drinking, pipe-smoking, yarn-spinning boatswain, but a right real English baronet--my dear Baroness! I am proud, I am happy, I am," and he threw his arms round his wife's neck, in spite of all the company present, and bestowing on her a hearty kiss, gave way to a jovial cheer, in which Grey and I and the lawyer, and even Captain Collyer, could not help joining.

The new Sir Jonathan, however, very soon recovering himself, became aware of the absurdity of his conduct, and the guests, collected by the cheer, coming round to congratulate him, he apologised in a fitting way for his unwonted ebullition of feeling. In a wonderfully short time he was himself again, and no man could have borne his honours with a better grace.

When the captain and Grey and I again congratulated him, he replied, "I am much obliged to all my kind friends here, but I know that your good wishes are sincere."

Numberless speeches on the subject were made at supper, and when Captain Collyer shook his late boatswain by the hand at parting, he assured Sir Jonathan that nothing had given him greater pleasure than so doing.

"All I'll ask, Captain Collyer, is, that when you get a ship, you'll give me a cruise some day. I don't think that I could go to sleep happily if I was to fancy that I should never have the salt spray again dashing into my face, or feel the deck lifting under my feet."

The promise asked was readily given, and Sir Jonathan Johnson was afterwards engaged in one of the most gallant actions during the war, when, as a volunteer, he led the boarders in his old style, and was mainly instrumental in capturing the enemy.

After peace was established he bought a yacht, and many a pleasant cruise I took with him during those piping times, our old shipmate Perigal, to whom he had thus an opportunity of offering a handsome salary, acting as his captain.

Toby Bluff, by his steady behaviour and sturdy bravery, became a boatswain, and has now charge of a line-of-battle ship in ordinary at Portsmouth.

The captain's old servant at last came on shore, and took to gardening, but as he usually pulled up the flowers instead of the weeds, he was directed to confine himself to sweeping the walks, which he did effectually, with delightful slowness and precision. He was one day in summer found sprinkling the housemaid's tea leaves over them, as he remarked, to lick up the dust.

I have said nothing about my own family. It is a sad subject. Poor Bertha! The gallant Ceaton never came home. His health gave way, but he did not die of disease. He fell on the deck of his own ship in action, at the moment the enemy's flag was seen to come down, the cheers of his victorious crew ringing in his ears.

Now, dear readers, old and young, farewell. I must bring these recollections of my early career as a Midshipman to a conclusion. I wish that I had reason to believe they were as edifying as I hope they may have proved amusing. All I ask is, that you will deal lightly with the faults of the work. Take whatever good advice you may have found scattered through the previous pages, and do not, by imitating the bad example of any of my old shipmates, give me cause to regret that I undertook to write this veracious history, as Mr Jonathan Johnson would say, of the early days of...

MARMADUKE MERRY, THE MIDSHIPMAN.

[THE END]
William H. G. Kingston's Book: Marmaduke Merry: A Tale of Naval Adventures in Bygone Days

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