Chapter 11. Hanks And My Ghost...

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_ CHAPTER ELEVEN. HANKS AND MY GHOST--HANKS' LEARNING--MYERS AGAIN--ESCAPES ONCE MORE-- APPOINTED TO A FRIGATE--PREPARE FOR SEA--MY SHIPMATES--SAIL FROM ENGLAND--MESSRS. TRUNDLE AND CHISSEL--DICKY SHARPE AND A TALE OF A BEEF-BONE

On reaching Portsmouth, I took a boat and pulled off to the cutter, which was lying out in the middle of the harbour. Hanks was walking the deck as I came alongside, but something having attracted his attention in the direction of Gosport, he did not observe me. Handing the boatman a shilling, I jumped on board unnoticed, and just as Hanks turned round, I stood before him, with my hand out ready to grasp his. For an instant the colour forsook his cheeks, and he stared at me without speaking, rolling his eyes round as if he saw my wraith.

"Why, Hanks, old fellow! don't you know me?" I exclaimed, bursting into a loud laugh at his extraordinary way of receiving me. My voice convinced him that it was not my ghost which was offering to shake hands with him.

"What, D'Arcy, my boy! is it you, indeed, come back to us after all?" he cried, seizing both my hands in his own well-hardened paws. "I'm glad to see you, that I am, lad; we thought those scoundrel smugglers had done for you. It would have been just like them, to kill the smallest of the lot. But how did you escape? Come, tell us all about it. We've had another brush with that rascal Myers: we are certain it was him. He had the daring to fire into us; killed one of our people, poor Tom Darling, and wounded two, getting off into the bargain. But we will be even with him before long, and when we do catch him, we'll pay him off, that's all. Well I'm glad you escaped, that I am; but come below, and let us hear the whole story."

In this way the kind-hearted fellow ran on. Having been welcomed by Growl, Scriven, and the rest of my shipmates, I went to report myself to my uncle, who was in his cabin. He seemed truly glad to find that I had not become food for fishes, though he did not exhibit his pleasure exactly in the same way Hanks had done. When I was dismissed by him, I dived down into our berth, and there, over a glass of his too-favourite beverage, old Hanks listened to an account of my adventures. "It was the Cremona did it, after all!" he exclaimed, slapping my shoulder. "I told you it would stand you in good stead. Stick to it, my lad, and you'll become as great a man as that old chap Orpheus, I've heard tell of, who made the beasts jig when he fiddled. Who the gentleman was, I can't say, except that he was one of Julius Caesar's generals, wasn't he?"

I must observe that Hanks' knowledge of history, both ancient and modern, was somewhat limited and confused; indeed he was impressed with a notion that Julius Caesar, for whom he had a high respect, came over to England somewhere in the last century, and having taken possession of the country, was in his turn thrashed by William the Conqueror. Of all subsequent events till the time of Nelson, he professed total ignorance.

"Ah, Nelson was the chap who made the English!" he used to exclaim in triumph; "and as for Nap, whom they talk so much about, what was he to him, I should like to know. Why, the little Frenchman couldn't put a ship about in a steady breeze, I'll warrant; and as for handling her in a gale, I doubt if he could have done it even if his crown depended on it."

Hanks had no very great respect for science either.

"What do I care for your algebra and your trigonometry?" he one day observed. "I take my John Norie and my Gunter's Scale, and I work out my day's work as well as any man; and what more should I want to know, tell me? Your mathematicians are all humbugs in my opinion, and that's a fact."

I mention these little traits in Hanks' character, because I shall now have to bid him farewell for a season. He was a worthy fellow, nevertheless; not without sense of a practical sort; a curious specimen of a school now rapidly becoming obsolete.

Soon after this we were once more on our old cruising ground, to the westward. We had been a week or more knocking about, when it came on to blow very hard from the south-west. My uncle was not a man to be frightened by a capful of wind; so, getting our storm-sails, we stood off shore, and faced the gale like men; for this was just the weather smugglers would choose to run across Channel, when they think no one will be on the look-out for them. Towards evening, however, it came on to blow harder than before; so that at last we were obliged to up-helm and run for shelter into harbour; but just as we were bearing up, a sea struck the cutter, carried away our stern-boat, and stove in one of those on our quarter. In this squall the wind seemed to have worn itself out; for before we had made the land it suddenly fell, and by daylight a dead calm came on, followed by a dense fog. When it cleared somewhat, we found close to us another revenue cutter. Her commander, Lieutenant Simmons, came on board and told my uncle that he had been directed to cruise in search of the _Kitty_ lugger, commanded by the notorious smuggler Bill Myers. "He has been adding wholesale murder to his other performances," observed the lieutenant. Two weeks ago, a boat from the _Hawk_ cutter fell in with him at night. He gave her the stem and cut her in two. Three of her crew climbed up the lugger's bows, but were instantly knocked on the head and hove overboard. The rest were drowned, with the exception of one who clung to the wreck and was picked up by the cutter the next morning. This account made us more eager than ever to catch Myers. Another cruiser was sent down to assist us in our search; but, though for several weeks we kept a sharp look-out after him, he managed to escape us; and neither he nor the _Kitty_ was again heard of on that coast. I was destined, however, to fall in with him again in another clime.

We were not sorry to get back to Portsmouth after all this knocking about. The first person I met on going on shore was Larry Harrigan. He had seen the cutter coming in, and had hurried down to the Point to meet me.

"Oh, Master Neil, I've good news for you," he exclaimed, as I jumped out of the boat and found myself in his arms, for he still looked on me as the baby he had so carefully watched over. "You are no longer to be kept in that tub-hunting service, saving his honour your uncle's pardon; but you are to go to sea in reality, in a fine, smart frigate, which won't be letting the grass grow under her keel, I'll warrant."

"That's good news, indeed, Larry; where did you learn it?" I asked.

"From no less a man than the Captain himself, and that's good authority, you'll allow," he answered, in a tone of no little satisfaction. "He's a friend of your honoured grandfather's, and was a midshipman and lieutenant on board two ships I served in. He has been lodging in my house for some months back; and when he heard who you were and who had brought you up and given you your sea-learning, says he, 'Larry, you've made a seaman of him, that I'll answer for. The lad shall go along with me when I get a ship, for his grandfather's sake and yours too, old friend.' Those were his last words, Master Neil, they were indeed; and he's kept his promise, as I knew he would."

This very satisfactory information Larry communicated on our way to Southsea. It was confirmed soon afterwards by my uncle, who followed me up to Larry's house. He, as I suspected, had also made an application in my favour, and had just received a letter from Captain Poynder--which was, I found, my future commander's name,--desiring me forthwith to join his ship, the _Harold_, which was, however, still in the hands of the dockyard people. Though I would rather have gone afloat at once, this was, I found, a great advantage, as I had thus an opportunity of seeing her masted, rigged, and fitted for sea. Officers are often glad to shirk this, for it is far from pleasant work, and Portsmouth is not the most delectable of residences. I should advise all midshipmen not to miss an opportunity of seeing a ship fitted out, if they possibly can. They will find it will save them an immense deal of after trouble, and prove the quickest way of gaining a knowledge of their future home. Meantime Larry was as busy as a bee in getting my kit in order, aided by his better half; and few midshipmen ever obtained so good an insight at so cheap a rate. I got leave to run over to Ryde for a couple of days to wish my aunt and young cousins good-bye. I asked after Alice Marlow. I was in hopes of hearing that she was coming back to Ryde, that I might see her before I sailed. I blushed as I mentioned her name, and had a curious palpitation about the region of the heart. My aunt smiled as she replied, "I am afraid, Neil, that I shall not be able to get my young friend to come here again for a long time. Mr Marlow writes me word that he proposes going abroad and taking her with him. But cheer up; she will return here some day, I hope; and when you came back from one of your voyages, you will find her with us, perhaps. I should be, indeed, very sorry if I did not expect to see the dear little girl again."

My aunt was the kindest creature alive; and I was very certain that she regretted that Alice was not there to bid me farewell. I wished her and my cousins good-bye. They all cried a little, and so, in truth, did I; for they were the only creatures I had to love in the world. I, however, quite recovered my spirits before I got half-way across to Portsmouth. My uncle came several times on board the frigate, and, had I been his own son, he could not have taken more interest in me than he did. As for Larry Harrigan, he was on board every day, and all day long, following me about to show me how everything was done, and why it was done. The first-lieutenant was a very worthy, kind man; and as soon as he had heard Larry's history, he used to talk to him and encourage him to come on board. Greatly to Larry's delight, he gave me leave to spend an evening sometimes at his house, and very pleasant evenings they were. The officers now began to join fast. Lieutenants, mates, and midshipmen were every day arriving. We soon had our full complement of men, and having got clear of the dockyard people, were ready to go out to Spithead.

I was now to turn over a new page in the history of my career. Although I had gained a considerable amount of nautical knowledge, my experience of life was somewhat limited; but henceforth it was to be enlarged and extended, I trusted, over the greater part of the surface of the globe. For the present, the lands of the myrtle and vine were to be our destination--the shores of the Mediterranean; and the man must indeed be difficult to satisfy who is not pleased with their varied and glowing beauties. Our gallant ship; our berth, so long our home; my messmates, as well as our superior officers and men, merit description. I will touch on each of them in their turn. First I will speak of our berth, which was in truth somewhat different to the abodes of the naval heroes of Great Britain of the rank of midshipmen, with which the public are familiar. Few, perhaps, are like it, though after we had been a year or two at sea it had sadly been shorn of its glory. Its brilliancy had departed, and its polish was no more. We happened to have a caterer, who liked to have everything very natty about him, and who had accordingly taken on himself to spend a few pounds in having our berth neatly done up. The bulkheads were painted of a salmon colour; there was a gilt and blue moulding; a neat oilcloth over the table and lockers; and at one end a buffet filled with plated dish-covers and dishes, tumblers and wine-glasses, forks and spoons, and China teacups; while two swing-lamps hung from the deck above. It afforded a contrast, certainly, to the times of the old school, when a purser's dip was stuck in a black bottle, and battered tin cups served alternately for grog and tea and soup; but though the language of the occupants of our berth was somewhat more refined, and our opinions more liberal, I will venture to say that the spirit to will and to do deeds of daring burnt not the less brightly in our bosoms than in those of midshipmen of former times. While I was at Ryde the ship's company moved out of the old _Topaze_, alongside of which we were lashed, into the frigate; and the day after several mates and midshipmen, with somewhat aristocratic pretensions, joined us. I got a hint, when I came back from Ryde, that they were rather inclined to look down upon me as having been a cutter's midshipman.

"They shan't cut me, at all events," said I to myself. So as soon as I got on board I went below, and taking the fiddle old Hanks had given me, I sat myself down on my chest, and began playing away with all my might a merry Irish jig.

"Hillo; who is the jolly fellow out there?" asked one of the new mates from the berth.

"Oh, that's the Irish midshipman, D'Arcy," answered Onslow, a mate who had sometime joined. "Give us another tune, Paddy, that's a good boy."

On this I forthwith struck up "Saint Patrick's Day in the Morning," and half a dozen other Irish airs.

"If no one objects, I'll sing, too, mates," said I, when I had played out my tunes.

Without waiting for an answer, I locked up my fiddle, and taking my seat at one end of the berth, I trolled out, with a very fair voice, several songs which used to delight old Hanks and my other shipmates in the cutter. The effect was evidently good. I showed my wish to please; and though afterwards a few attempts were made to snub me, I took them all in good humour, as if they were intended as jokes, and finally established myself as a favourite with the mess, and I may, I believe, honestly say, with nearly everybody on board.

As soon as possible we went out to Spithead, and joined a large squadron under command of Sir Peppery Portfire. We mustered altogether some eighteen sail of vessels or more, and a very warlike appearance we made. We were bound, we knew, for the Mediterranean; and we all looked forward with no little satisfaction to our visit to that most favourite of stations.

Our powder was next taken on board, with a further supply of stores, and more midshipmen. Among the latter, who should climb up the side but my quondam friend Dicky Sharpe. He did not see me, as I was aloft at the time, and before I came on deck, he and his traps had gone below. When my watch on deck was over, I descended to our berth, where I found him busily employed in cramming his new messmates, and endeavouring to raise himself to a high position in their estimation.

"You see, my good fellows, it isn't everybody has got a Minister for a cousin, and a Lord of the Admiralty for an uncle," he remarked in a consequential tone, as I got to the door of the berth.

"And I don't think you have either, Dicky, my boy," said I, laughing. "But I am very glad to see you, notwithstanding; but don't be after bamboozling us jolly greens now."

At first he attempted to look very indignant at the attack made on his veracity; but no sooner did he recognise me than his good feelings got the better of his love of trying to make himself of importance; and jumping up, he seized my hand and wrung it warmly.

"Why, D'Arcy, is it you yourself, indeed?" he exclaimed. "I am delighted to find you here, I am indeed. Why, messmates, if it hadn't been for D'Arcy I should have been food for fishes; I should, on my word. Think what a loss the service would have had."

A loud laugh from all hands followed this remark, though I verily believe Dicky spoke in all gravity; but the fact that I had been the means of saving his life thus came out. It raised me, I had afterwards reason to know, in the good opinion of all on board; and Dicky himself gained many friends by the feeling way in which he spoke of it. I was very soon seated alongside him in the berth, and our tongues were rattling away as fast as they could wag.

Dicky's propensity to brag, amusing as it was to others, was continually getting him into scrapes. We had an old mate, Adam Stallman by name, who was proportionably as tall, grave, and silent, as Dicky was little, merry, and loquacious.

One day Dicky having thrown a biscuit at me, which, unfortunately, hit Adam's nose, the latter looked at him sternly.

"Sharpe, you are small," he exclaimed; "but cobbing was invented to make midshipmen grow, and I intend to make you grow."

"Then, faith, Stallman, I suspect your mother began cobbing you as soon as you were born," answered the undaunted Dicky.

Adam's hands had been busy under the table with his handkerchief; now, suddenly leaning forward, he grasped Dicky by the crop of the neck, and before he had time to expostulate, he had him in such a position that he could apply with the greatest effect the instrument of torture he had manufactured. As all the oldsters sided with Adam, the youngsters dared not interfere; and poor Dicky was held in that undignified position while other handkerchiefs were knotted, and before he was cast loose he received a cobbing which made him treat ever afterwards all the oldsters with abundant respect. But Dicky, if he did not forget, did what was as wise, he forgave; and I do not think he nourished the slightest ill-will against his cobbers.

Of Captain Poynder I have spoken. He was a worthy man and a good officer; and if he had a fault, it was not being sufficiently strict.

Then comes Johnny Du Pre, our gallant First. I have still an affectionate regard for Johnny, though many an hour have I spent at our masthead at his instigation; while Dicky, promoted by the like authority, was taking sights at me from another. We were sent there not without cause, I own, and still the amount of moral turpitude which gained us that elevated distinction was not such as to make me blush as I think of it, or to make me anxious to conceal it from the public. Neither as a first-lieutenant nor as a man was Lieutenant Du Pre perfect; but who is there with whom one cannot find a fault. He was kind-hearted, a fair seaman, and anxious to do his duty.

But our second lieutenant, Basil Vernon, was still more worthy of notice. Refined and elegant both in person and manners, he appeared, at first sight, to be what is called a fine gentleman; but kind-hearted, brave, and generous almost to a fault, a first-rate seaman and officer, a better fellow never stepped, nor one more beloved by all classes afloat, as well as by all who knew him on shore. I soon became very much attached to him, and would have gone round the world to do him a service. Many times did he save me from punishment when I specially deserved it. He was indeed very far from being one of those fine fellows whom no ordinary mortals can approach; for he had a heart tender as a woman's, and he would as readily sympathise with the grief of the smallest middy, as with the sorrow or suffering of the roughest tar on board. He was a sincere Christian too, and, what was more, was not ashamed of his Christianity. He exhibited his principles in his practice--in the daily duties of life,--till he taught the most profane and profligate to respect him, if not to adopt them. I wish there were more Basil Vernons in the service. Thank Heaven! there are some shining lights to lighten us in our darkness--leaven, which gradually, though slowly, may, by God's providence, leaven the whole mass.

Our third lieutenant, Hugh Summers, wrote poetry, talked sentiment, and dreamed dreams, and required a flapper to remind him when to put the ship about at times; but when once aroused into action, he was as energetic as any one, and had plenty of resources on an emergency.

The master, surgeon, and purser, were also very good fellows in their way, and if not shining ornaments, were no disgrace to His Majesty's service.

At last the pay-clerks came on board, and paid the ship's company. A fine bright morning saw the signal flying from the admiral's ship for the fleet to weigh and work out to Saint Helen's. There was a nice working breeze, a blue sky, and the water just rippled enough to reflect with more dazzling splendour the rays of the glorious sun, as he shed them almost along the path we were to pursue. It was, in truth, a beautiful sight; and considering the number of ships--some eighteen sail or more, all beating out together within so narrow a channel,--it was surprising that much damage was not done, especially when it is remembered that the crews of half the ships had never been to sea before, and that the ropes were stiff and new, and did not work well. One ship, I believe, carried away her flying jib-boom against the stern of another; and with that slight loss, and a small expenditure of abuse from the respective crews, who thought each other to blame, we reached Saint Helen's. The next day we were fairly off to sea; the fleet formed in two lines, the White and the Blue Squadrons, which Sir Peppery manoeuvred with much skill, to the no small trouble of the signal midshipmen. The second day, Ned Lenny, the young gentleman on board the _Harold_ who held that office, vowed he must leave the service and go into the Dragoons, if it was to be carried on in that way; though the following morning he thought better of it. He gained, however, the _sobriquet_ of the Heavy, which, as he was a cocksparrow of a fellow, he retained ever afterwards. Captain Poynder was not inclined to save either officers or crew till we got into good order, which we accordingly did our best to accomplish.

After cruising for six weeks, we were ordered to Spithead to complete our provisions, water, and stores; and then, having taken some passengers on board, made all sail for our station in Mediterranean.

We had not been long at sea when Dicky and I, wearying of the daily routine of duty, began to play pranks which were calculated to bring us into trouble. The boatswain, who rejoiced in the name of Timotheus Trundle, was one of the most extraordinary of his class, though not a bad boatswain for all that. His appearance in foul weather was that of a short lump of big coats and trousers, with a small red pumpkin growing out of them. On a nearer approach, one discovered in the said pumpkin a pair of red, ferrety eyes, an excrescence for a nose, and a hole into which his whistle fitted for a mouth, and on either side of it, on a Sunday morning, two very high shirt-collars, they towards the end of the week gaining a darker hue and an outward curve. On the top of the pumpkin was a round Spanish hat, the fluff of the catskin which composed it being long enough to make a dozen beavers. He wore, with considerable pride, round his neck a handsome silver call and chain. But with all his oddities, his enemies--and he had a few--were obliged to confess that he knew and did his duty as well as any man in the ship. Among his other qualifications, he was a bit of a sea-lawyer; not of the cantankerous sort, however, for it might be more justly said that he preferred sitting on the judicial bench, and he was ever ready to settle all disputes either by arbitration or the rope's-end; indeed, in most cases he had recourse to the latter, as being the most summary mode of proceeding. When his duty did not require his presence on his own territory, the forecastle, he was fond of taking a walk on the main-deck, alongside the carpenter's bench, for he was of a social disposition, and delighted in what he called 'rasheral' conversation.

Now, Ichabod Chissel, our carpenter, was another of those heroes of the tongue, who pretend to know everything, and never fail in a story for want of a little invention. By his own crew, who looked up to him and esteemed him for his sterling qualities, he was considered a first-rate politician. The two officers were tolerably good friends in general; but a very slight thing would make them fall out, though they as speedily patched up their quarrels again.

One day there was a light breeze and a smooth sea, and Trundle, not expecting to be wanted, had repaired to the main-deck, where Chissel was superintending his crew at work. Dicky Sharpe and I happened to be near, and observing that they were both more than usually excited, we drew closer to see the fun going forward.

"Well, that was a storm as fierce as ever I did see," remarked Chissel. "Why, there was a thunderbolt as big as six of my fists put together, fell right through the decks, and out through the ship's bottom; and if I hadn't been there to plug the hole, we should all have gone to Davy Jones' locker, as sure as fate. You was there, Trundle, and you know, old ship, that I speak true."

"I was there! Yes; but I know you speak a hanged lie, if you say that," exclaimed Trundle.

"What's that you say?" shouted Chissel, highly indignant at being told he lied before all his crew, though he doubtless would have cared very little about the matter, had the polite remark been made when the two were alone.

Just then Mr Summers, who was the officer of the watch, sung out, "Hands about ship! Where's the boatswain?"

"Never in his station," observed Chissel, as Trundle, call in mouth, was making his way forward. "And very little use when he is there," he added, either thinking the boatswain would not hear him, or caring very little if he did.

Trundle caught the words just as he was going up the fore-ladder, and though he could not just then take his pipe from his mouth to utter a retort, he gave a fierce look with one of his ferrety eyes, which showed that he acknowledged himself deeply in his messmate's debt. His pipe sounded more shrill than usual, as he could not give any other vent to his feelings.

"There'll be a row before long between those two heroes, just you mark that," said I to Dicky, as we both hurried off to our stations.

"Ay," said he, giving me a wink; "and I think I can put a spoke in their wheel to help them along."

It was near twelve o'clock, the ship being put about, the decks cleared up, and grog served out preparatory to dinner, when the boatswain made his appearance before the carpenter, his anger in no way appeased.

"What's that you were saying about me, Mr Ichabod Chissel, I should like to know?" he exclaimed, in an irate tone.

"Why, Mr Trundle, no man likes to have his ferocity (veracity?) doubted, and if you goes for to affirm that I'm a liar--I don't mince matters, you'll understand me,--why, all I've got to say is, that you're the biggest speaker of untruths as ever was born, whoever the mother was who got you. Put that in your pipe, Mr Trundle, and smoke it."

This most insulting of all remarks increased tenfold the boatswain's rage, and the two would have come instantly to fisticuffs, but that, fortunately, at that moment the order to pipe to dinner was given. The boatswain's call came into requisition, and all hands, except the watch on deck, were soon busily employed in discussing the contents of a cask of beef, boasting of but a small proportion of fat or lean and a considerable superfluity of bone.

Now it happened to be Dicky Sharpe's watch on deck while dinner was going on, and at one o'clock, being relieved, he came down to his own repast, which he was not long in discussing. While he sat turning a large rib-bone over and over, in disgust at finding so little meat on it, and waiting for the boy to clear away, the boatswain, whose cabin could be seen from the berth on the larboard side, roused up from a nap, and began to contemplate his visage in his glass, to discover if he looked in any way as if he had been asleep. It must be understood that it is contrary to the principles of a boatswain worthy of the rank ever to require sleep. He would consider himself disgraced in the eyes of the whole crew, if he were caught taking a wink. A regular-built boatswain is often on deck from half-past three in the morning till eleven at night, and should it be bad weather, or from any other cause, frequently two or three times during the night also; and as to his cabin, he merely looks in occasionally and keeps his donnage there.

Now, to do him justice, Trundle was a thoroughgoing boatswain. While he was rubbing his eyes, to get the sleepiness out of them, pulling up his shirt-collar, and brushing back his hair, the demon of mischief put a thought into Dicky Sharpe's head. To conceive, with Dicky, was to execute. I happened to be descending from the main-deck, when I saw Dicky standing at the door of the berth, with the rib-bone in hand, and a wicked look in his eye. I instantly perceived the state of affairs, and divined what was to happen. Away flew the bone across the deck, with so good an aim that it made a cannon against the boatswain's nose and his glass, breaking both one and the other with a loud crash, which was followed by a volley of oaths. The steerage of a frigate, even when a sunbeam penetrates through a scuttle, is not over and above brilliantly lighted; and on the present occasion a purser's dip here and there just enabled us to grope our way about the deck. Now it happened that the carpenter at that moment was coming out of his berth, which was nearly opposite the boatswain's.

"Oh! you blessed Chissel; I saw you heave that, you aggrawating so-and-so," exclaimed Trundle, in a towering rage, exhibiting his bleeding nose and broken glass.

"I never hove anything, and that you know, you so-and-so," answered Ichabod, drawing near to his adversary.

"You did, though, you so-and-so," cried Trundle, doubling his fist, and dealing Ichabod a hit on the eye which almost stove it in.

The blow was given back, and returned with interest, with expressions not fit for ears polite, till the noses of both heroes were streaming with blood, and their voices were hallooing away at the highest pitch. Dicky was rubbing his hands in high glee at the successful result of his experiment, when the captain, aroused by the hubbub, rang his bell to know what was the matter. This sound, like that of Oberon's magic horn, instantly paralysed the combatants; and the sentry having put his head into the cabin, and made some report which apparently satisfied the skipper, the two warriors, like a couple of lions growling defiance at each other, retired to their berths, to staunch their bleeding wounds, and wash away the stains of the fight from their faces.

Here the first thing which met the eye of the boatswain, as he stooped to pick up the fragments of his glass, was the missile which had inflicted the injury. Now, as the officers generally choose the long ribs of beef for roasting, for which they pay one pound in six for the good of the ship's company, and the boatswain had actually seen the carpenter's servant carrying a piece of rib-beef for his master's dinner, he felt perfectly satisfied who had thrown the bone. Seizing it, therefore, in his hand, with the fragments of his glass, and his nose still bleeding, he rushed on deck, and halted, quivering with rage, on the quarter-deck, in presence of the first-lieutenant.

"By Jupiter, what a wigging I shall get," whispered Dicky, in a terrible funk. "I say, D'Arcy, my boy, don't 'peach, though."

I cocked my eye, and, pointing to the masthead,--"Six hours a day for the next week, eh!--pleasant, Dicky," I answered.

Master Dicky dared not show his face, lest his consciousness of guilt might betray itself; for, though unable to resist doing a piece of mischief when the temptation came in his way, he had not got the brazen front of a hardened sinner. I also, anxious as I was to learn the result of the trial, was afraid of showing too great an interest in it, lest suspicion should fall on me, and therefore walked the quarter-deck at a respectful distance, picking up what information I could on the way.

"What is this you have to complain of, Mr Trundle?" asked the first-lieutenant, as he stood at the capstern-head, with the enraged boatswain before him.

"Why, sir, as I was a-cleaning myself just now in my cabin, a-thinking no harm of nobody, Mr Ichabod Chissel, the carpenter of this here ship, sir, and my brother officer, thinks fit to heave this here rib-bone right across the steerage against my nose and my glass, and breaks both on 'em. If that ain't enough to aggrawate and perwoke and--and-- and--(he stopped for a word) flabbergast any one, I don't know what is, sir, you'll allow."

"Very much so, I grant," observed Mr Du Pre, taking the bone between his fingers and holding it behind his back. "Send Mr Chissel here."

The carpenter soon made his appearance.

"Pray, Mr Chissel, what part of the meat had you for your dinner, to-day?" asked Mr Du Pre.

"The tail, sir," said the carpenter.

"What became of the bone after dinner?" asked the first-lieutenant.

"The boy cleared it away with the rest of the things, sir," was the answer.

"Let the boy be sent for," said Mr Du Pre.

Bobby Smudge soon came rolling along, hitching up his trousers as he approached the capstern.

There was a wicked look in the young rascal's eye, which made me suspect he knew all about the matter. He was the most complete little Pickle in the ship, and was continually getting punished, and most deservedly too, by his master. The very day before, the carpenter had reported him, and he had got eleven finnams on the hand for having, in conveying Mr Chissel's grog from the tub to his cabin, being detected in the very act of taking a hatchway nip--the said hatchway nip, let it be understood, being a sip snatched furtively by the bearer of a glass of grog on the ladder descending from the main to the lower deck. A finnam, I must also explain, is a blow inflicted on the hand, with a cane generally, by the master-at-arms or the ship's corporal. To the said finnams poor Bobby Smudge's black paws were well accustomed.

"Boy, what was done with the bone after your master's dinner?" asked Mr Du Pre, in a severe tone.

"I'm sure I don't know, sir," replied Bobby Smudge, in a long drawl, worthy of a London professional street-beggar.

"Should you know it again if you saw it?" asked the first-lieutenant.

"Oh yes, sir; I'm sure I should," replied Master Smudge, brightening up and looking the picture of innocent simplicity.

"Well, my boy, what do you say to this?" said Mr Du Pre, producing the bone from behind his back.

All eyes turned towards Bobby Smudge: the carpenter's fate hung on his decision. The young monkey felt his importance, and determined to exert it. Chissel knew it was the very sort of bone he had scraped not an hour before. Bobby took it, and, turning it round, examined it narrowly.

"Oh yes, sir; I'll swear to it, that I will," he exclaimed, holding up his blistered hand behind his back so that the carpenter might observe it. "As I was a-trying to get my dinner off it, I notched it with my knife, I knowed I did, 'cause there was so little meat on it."

"Oh, you wretched young liar," muttered the carpenter, for he dared not speak aloud; "won't I pay you off, that's all?"

The boy heard him, and gave a grin of defiance.

"Mr Chissel, go to your cabin, and consider yourself under arrest," said the first-lieutenant; "I must report this affair to the captain. The discipline of the ship cannot be thus trifled with; and officers especially, who ought to know better, must not be allowed to set the men so bad an example with impunity."

Saying this, Mr Du Pre resumed his walk on the quarter-deck, and I hurried down to report what had occurred, to my chum Dicky. At first he was highly delighted at having escaped detection.

"Stop a bit, Dicky," said I; "I don't think you are quite out of the fire yet. It will never do to let the carpenter be disrated or dismissed the ship for conduct of which he is innocent. The truth must come out; and, to my mind, honesty is the best policy."

"Well, but don't you see, D'Arcy, I shall get mast-headed and have my leave stopped, and I don't know what else--all for shying a bone across the steerage," argued Dicky. "What business had the boatswain and carpenter to hit each other, I should like to know. If that stupid Trundle had taken the joke in good part, there wouldn't have been all this row."

I laughed outright at Master Richard's style of reasoning.

"That argument won't stand good with the skipper," said I. "Now, come, let me do the only thing which can set matters to rights; because it is the right thing. I'm a bit of a favourite with Mr Du Pre, I suspect; and I'll go up to him at once, and tell him the truth. If anything can get you off, that will; and if the affair reaches the ears of the captain, there will be a very serious row, I'm certain."

At last Dicky consented to my plan, and without waiting to let him change his mind, I went on deck, where I found the first-lieutenant.

"I've got something to say about that beef-bone, sir," I began.

"What's that, Mr D'Arcy," he exclaimed, turning sharp round. "When am I to hear the last of that beef-bone?"

"Why, sir, it wasn't the carpenter threw it, but one of the midshipmen; he couldn't help it, though. No one could, I'm sure," I rapped out.

"Why, Master D'Arcy, I verily believe you're the culprit," he exclaimed, looking at me steadfastly.

I detected, however, a smile in his eye, which showed that his anger was not very serious; so I at once told him exactly how the matter had occurred, and that Dicky had begged me to come and confess the truth and intercede for him. Master Sharpe was therefore sent for; and having been severely reprimanded, was told that as soon as we got into harbour his leave would be stopped, and was then ordered to the masthead for a couple of hours, to sit there instead of on the stool of repentance. The carpenter was released from arrest, on condition that he should keep the peace. The boatswain's nose mended in the course of a few days; and though reminded of the outrage every time he attempted to shave before his broken bit of looking-glass, he and Chissel soon patched up their quarrel and resumed their former intimacy. The person who fared worst was Bobby Smudge, who, never a favourite with his master, now obtained a double allowance of finnams, and a sly rope's-ending whenever opportunities offered. Bobby began to discover that revenge, though sweet, may recoil on the head of the avenger, and become very bitter. More ultimately came out of the beef-bone affair. _

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