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
I can remember that I was both a coward and a boaster; but I have
frequently remarked that the quality which we call cowardice, in a
child, implies no more than a greater sense of danger, and consequently
a superior intellect. We are all naturally cowards: education and
observation teach us to discriminate between real and apparent danger;
pride teaches the concealment of fear; and habit render us indifferent
to that from which we have often escaped with impunity. It is related
of the Great Frederick that he misbehaved the first time he went into
action; and it is certain that a novice in such a situation can no more
command all his resources than a boy when first bound apprentice to a
shoemaker can make a pair of shoes. We must learn our trade, whether it
be to stand steady before the enemy or to stitch a boot; practice alone
can make a Hoby or a Wellington.
I pass on to my school-days, when the most lasting impressions are made.
The foundation of my moral and religious instruction had been laid with
care by my excellent parents; but, alas! from the time I quitted the
paternal roof not one stone was added to the building; and even the
traces of what existed were nearly obliterated by the deluge of vice
which threatened soon to overwhelm me. Sometimes, indeed, I feebly, but
ineffectually, endeavoured to stem the torrent; at others, I suffered
myself to be borne along with all its fatal rapidity. I was frank,
generous, quick, and mischievous; and I must admit that a large portion
of what sailors call "devil" was openly displayed, and a much larger
portion latently deposited in my brain and bosom. My ruling passion,
even in this early stage of life was pride. Lucifer himself, if he ever
was seven years old, had not more. If I have gained a fair name in the
service, if I have led instead of followed, it must be ascribed to this
my ruling passion. The world has often given me credit for better
feelings, as the source of action; but I am not writing to conceal, and
the truth must be told.
I was sent to school to learn Latin and Greek, of which there are
various ways of teaching. Some tutors attempt the _suaviter in modo_,
my schoolmaster preferred the _fortiter in re_, and, as the boatswain
said, by the "instigation" of a large knotted stick, he drove knowledge
into our skulls as a caulker drives oakum into the seams of a ship.
Under such tuition, we made astonishing progress; and whatever my less
desirable acquirements may have been, my father had no cause to complain
of my deficiency in classic lore. Superior in capacity to most of my
schoolfellows, I seldom took the pains to learn my lesson previous to
going up with the class: "the master's blessing," as we called it, did
occasionally descend on my devoted head, but that was a bagatelle; I was
too proud not to keep pace with my equals, and too idle to do more.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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