Frank Mildmay; Or, The Naval OfficerMarryat, Frederick
History
Frank Mildmay; Or, The Naval Officer
Marryat, Frederick
Great Britain -- History, Naval -- 19th century -- Fiction; Great Britain. Royal Navy -- Officers -- Fiction; Sea stories
Fortunately, drinking was not among my vices. I could get "fresh," as
we call it, when in good company and excited by wit and mirth; but I
never went to the length of being drunk; and, as I advanced in years,
pride and cunning made me still more guarded. I perceived the immense
advantage which sobriety gave me over a drunkard, and I failed not to
profit by it.
Keeping constantly on deck, almost night and day, I attended to the
course of the vessel and the sail she carried, never taking the
trouble to consult the lieutenant, who was generally senseless in his
cabin. We made Sambro' Lighthouse (which is at the entrance of Halifax
harbour) in the evening, and one of the midshipmen, who was more than
half drunk, declared himself well acquainted with the place, and his
offer to pilot the vessel in was accepted. As I had never been there
before, I could be of no use; but being extremely doubtful of the
skill of our pilot, I watched his proceedings with some anxiety.
In half an hour we found ourselves on shore on Cornwallis Island, as
I afterwards learned, and the sea made a fair breach over us. This
sobered the lieutenant and his officers; and as the tide fell, we
found ourselves high and dry. The vessel fell over on her side, and I
walked on shore, determined to trust myself no more with such a set of
beasts. Boats came down from the dockyard at daylight, and took me and
some others who had followed my example, together with our luggage, to
the flag-ship. After two days' hard labour, the vessel was got off,
and brought into the harbour. The admiral was informed of the whole
transaction, and one of the captains advised him to try the lieutenant
by a court-martial, or, at least, to turn him out of the vessel, and
send him home. Unfortunately, he would not follow this advice, but
sent him to sea again, with despatches. It was known that all hands
were drunk on quitting the port; and the vessel ran upon a reef of
rocks called the Sisters, where she sank, and every soul perished. Her
mast-heads were seen just above water the next morning.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account