Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, No. 401, March 1849Various
Science
Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, No. 401, March 1849
Various
England -- Periodicals; Scotland -- Periodicals
I had observed a seventy-four, the Stratton, lying opposite the Spit
Buoy; on board of which, as the waterman told me, a court-martial had
been held the day before, where they broke a first lieutenant for
insulting his captain. Both belonged to one of the frigates: the
captain I had seen, and heard of as the worst tyrant in the navy; his
ship was called "a perfect hell afloat;" that same week one of the
boys had tried to drown himself alongside, and a corporal of marines,
after coming ashore and drinking a glass with his sweetheart, had
coolly walked down to the Point, jumped in between two boats at the
jetty, and kept himself under water till he was dead. The lieutenant
had been dismissed the service, and as I recognised the name, I
wondered whether it could actually be my schoolfellow, Tom Westwood,
as gallant a fellow and as merry as ever broke biscuit. Two
sail-boats, one from around the Stratton's quarter, and the other from
over by Gosport, steering on the same tack for Southsea, diverted my
attention as I sauntered down to the beach. The bow of the nearest
wherry grounded on the stones as I began to walk quicker towards the
town-gates, chiefly because I was pretty ready for an early breakfast
at the old Blue Posts, and also because I had a slight notion of what
these gentlemen wanted on Southsea Beach at odd hours. Out they
jumped, however--one man in naval undress, another, a captain, in full
fig, the third, a surgeon--coming right athwart my course to bring me
to. The first I almost at once remembered for the notorious captain of
the Orestes, or N'Oreste, as the midshipmen called her, from her
French build and her character together. "Hallo, you sir!" said the
other captain decidedly, "you must stand still." "Indeed!" said I;
"and why so, if you please?" "Since you _are_ here, we don't intend
allowing you to pass for some few minutes." "And what if I should do
as I choose, sir?" I asked. "If you stir two steps, sir, I shall shoot
you!" replied the captain, who was one of the bullying school. "Oh,
very well," I said, rather confounded by his impertinence, "then I
shall stay;" and I accordingly stood stock-still, with my arms folded,
until the other boat landed its party of two. They were in plain
clothes; nor did I give them any particular attention till the seconds
had stationed their men, when the captain of the Orestes had his back
to me, and his antagonist stood directly facing. As his pale resolved
features came out before me with the morning sun on them, his lips
together, and his nostrils large, I recognised my old friend Westwood.
The captain had broke him the day before, and now he had accepted his
challenge, being a known dead shot, while the lieutenant had never
fired a bullet in cold blood: there was, no doubt, a settled purpose
in the tyrant to crush the first man that had dared to thwart his
will. Westwood's second came forward and mentioned to the other that
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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