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
"It is all right, sir," said Mr Handstone. "Here, Mr Flyblock, do you
take this young gentleman into your mess; you may show him below as soon
as you please, and tell him where to hang his hammock up."
I followed my new friend down the ladder, under the half-deck, where sat
a woman, selling bread and butter and red herrings to the sailors; she
had also cherries and clotted cream, and a cask of strong beer, which
seemed to be in great demand. We passed her, and descended another
ladder, which brought us to the 'tween decks, and into the steerage, in
the forepart of which, on the larboard side, abreast of the mainmast,
was my future residence--a small hole which they called a berth; it was
ten feet long by six, and about five feet four inches high; a small
aperture, about nine inches square, admitted a very scanty portion of
that which we most needed, namely, fresh air and daylight. A deal table
occupied a very considerable extent of this small apartment, and on it
stood a brass candlestick, with a dip candle, and a wick like a
full-blown carnation. The table-cloth was spread, and the stains of
port wine and gravy too visibly indicated, like the midshipman's dirty
shirt, the near approach of Sunday. The black servant was preparing for
dinner, and I was shown the seat I was to occupy. "Good Heaven!"
thought I, as I squeezed myself between the ship's side and the
mess-table; "and is this to be my future residence? Better go back to
school; there, at least, there is fresh air and clean linen."
I would have written that moment to my dear, broken-hearted mother, to
tell her how gladly her prodigal son would fly back to her arms; but I
was prevented doing this, first by pride, and secondly by want of
writing materials. Taking my place, therefore, at the table, I mustered
up all my philosophy; and, to amuse myself, called to mind the
reflections of Gil Blas, when he found himself in the den of the
robbers, "Behold, then, the worthy nephew of my uncle, Gil Perez, caught
like a rat in a trap."
Most of my new associates were absent on duty; the 'tween deck was
crammed, with casks, and cases, and chests, and bags, and hammocks; the
noise of the caulkers was resumed over my head and all around me; the
stench of bilge-water, combining with the smoke of tobacco, the effluvia
of gin and beer, the frying of beef-steaks and onions, and red
herrings--the pressure of a dark atmosphere and a heavy shower of rain,
all conspired to oppress my spirits, and render me the most miserable
dog that ever lived. I had almost resigned myself to despair, when I
recollected the captain's invitation, and mentioned it to Flyblock.
"That's well thought of," said he; "Murphy also dines with him; you can
both go together, and I dare say he will be very glad of your company."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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