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.
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