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
But to return to my uniform. I had arrayed myself in it; my dirk was
belted round my waist; a cocked-hat, of an enormous size, stuck on my
head; and, being perfectly satisfied with my own appearance, at the
last survey which I had made in the glass, I first rang for the
chambermaid, under pretence of telling her to make my room tidy, but,
in reality, that she might admire and compliment me, which she very
wisely did; and I was fool enough to give her half a crown and a kiss,
for I felt myself quite a man. The waiter, to whom the chambermaid had
in all probability communicated the circumstance, presented himself,
and having made a low bow, offered the same compliments, and received
the same reward, save the kiss. Boots would, in all probability, have
come in for his share, had he been in the way, for I was fool enough
to receive all their fine speeches as if they were my due, and to pay
for them at the same time in ready money. I was a gudgeon and they
were sharks; and more sharks would soon have been about me, for I
heard them, as they left the room, call "boots" and "ostler," of
course to assist in lightening my purse.
But I was too impatient to wait on my captain and see my ship--so I
bounced down the stairs, and in the twinkling of an eye, was on my
way to Stonehouse, where my vanity received another tribute, by a raw
recruit of marine raising his hand to his head, as he passed by me. I
took it as it was meant, raised my hat off my head, and shuffled
by with much self-importance. One consideration, I own, mortified
me--this was that the _natives_ did not appear to admire me half so
much as I admired myself. It never occurred to me then, that middies
were as plentiful at Plymouth Dock, as black boys at Port Royal,
though, perhaps, not of so much value to their masters. I will not
shock the delicacy of my fair readers by repeating all the vulgar
alliterations with which my noviciate was greeted, as I passed in
review before the ladies of North Corner, who met me in Fore Street.
Unsophisticated as I then was, in many points, and certainly in this,
I thought them extremely ill-bred. Fortunately for me, the prayers of
a certain description of people never prevail, otherwise I should have
been immediately consigned to a place, from which, I fear, all the
masses of France and Italy would not have extricated me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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