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
novitiate 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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