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
The poor man fetched a sigh from the waistband of his trousers. "I am a
ruined man," said he. "I only wish I'd known a little sooner of the war
you talk about: I've got two nice little guns there forward; you
shouldn't a had me so easily."
I smiled at his idea of resistance against a fast-sailing frigate of
fifty guns; but left him in the full enjoyment of his conceit, and
changing the subject, asked if he had anything he could give us to
drink, for the weather was very warm.
"No, I ha'n't," he replied, peevishly; "and if I had--"
"Come, come, my good fellow," said I, "you forget you are a prize;
civility is a cheap article, and may bring you a quick return."
"That's true," said Jonathan, who was touched on the nicest point--self;
"that's true, you are only a doing your duty. Here, boy, fetch up that
ere demi-John of Madeira, and for aught I know, the young officer might
like a drop o' long cork; bring us some tumblers, and one o' they claret
bottles out o' the starboard after locker."
The boy obeyed--and the articles quickly appeared. While this dialogue
was going on, the frigate was in chase, firing guns, and bringing-to the
different vessels as she passed them, dropping a boat on board of one,
and making sail after another. We stood after her with all the sail we
could conveniently carry.
"Pray," said the captain, "might I offer you a bit of something to eat?
I guess you ha'n't dined yet, as it isn't quite meridian."
I thanked him, and accepted his offer: he ran down instantly to the
cabin, as if to prepare for my reception; but I rather thought he wished
to place some articles out of my sight, and this proved to be the case,
for he stole a bag of dollars out of the cargo. In a short time, I was
invited down. A leg of cured pork, and a roasted fowl, were very
acceptable to a midshipman at any time, but particularly so to me; and,
when accompanied by a few glasses of the Madeira, the barometer of my
spirits rose in proportion to the depression of his.
"Come, captain," said I, filling a bumper of claret, "here's to a long
and bloody war."
"Damn the dog that won't say amen to that," said the master; "but where
do you mean to carry me to? I guess to Halifax. Sha'n't I have my
clothes and my own private _venter_?"
"All your private property," said I, "will be held sacred; but your
vessel and cargo are ours."
"Well, well," said the man, "I know that; but if you behave well to me,
you shan't find I'm ungrateful. Let me have my things, and I'll give
you a bit o' news as will be of sarvice to you."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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