I mentioned the reason why I was so anxious for a letter, viz., because I wanted to buy my dirk and cocked-hat; upon which they told me that there was no occasion for my spending my money, as by the regulations of the service, the purser’s steward served them out to all the officers who applied for them. As I knew where the purser’s steward’s room was, having seen it when down in the cock-pit with the Trotters, I went down immediately. “Mr. Purser’s Steward,” said I, “let me have a cocked-hat and a dirk immediately.”
“Very good, sir,” replied he, and he wrote an order upon a slip of paper, which he handed to me. “There is the order for it, sir; but the cocked-hats are kept in the chest up in the main-top, and as for the dirk, you must apply to the butcher, who has them under his charge.”
I went up with the order, and thought I would first apply for the dirk; so I inquired for the butcher, whom I found sitting in the sheep-pen with the sheep, mending his trowsers. In reply to my demand, he told me that he had not the key of the store-room, which was under the charge of one of the corporals of marines.
I inquired who, and he said, “Cheeks, the marine.” (This celebrated personage is the prototype of Mr. Nobody on board of a man-of-war.)
I went everywhere about the ship, inquiring for Cheeks the marine, but could not find him. Some said that they believed he was in the foretop, standing sentry over the wind, that it might not change; others, that he was in the galley, to prevent the midshipmen from soaking their biscuit in the captain’s dripping-pan.
As I could not find the marine, I thought I might as well go for my cocked-hat, and get my dirk afterwards. I did not much like going up the rigging, because I was afraid of turning giddy, and if I fell overboard I could not swim; but one of the midshipmen offered to accompany me, stating that I need not be afraid, if I fell overboard, of sinking to the bottom, as, if I was giddy, my head at all events would swim; so I determined to venture. I climbed up very near to the main-top, but not without missing the little ropes very often, and grazing the skin of my shins. Then I came to large ropes stretched out from the mast so that you must climb them with your head backwards. The midshipman told me these were called the 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