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
Sir Hurricane was employed on something, but I could not distinctly make
out what. He had a boot between his knees and the calves of his legs,
which he pressed together, and as he turned his head round, I perceived
that he held a knife between his teeth.
"Leave the door open, messmate," said he, without taking the least
notice of me. Then rising, he drew a large black tom-cat by the tail,
out of the boot, and flinging it away from him to a great distance,
which distance was rapidly increased by the voluntary exertion of the
cat, which ran away as if it had been mad--"There," said he, "and be
damned to you, you have given me more trouble than a whole Kentucky
farm-yard but I shall not lose my sleep any more by your damned
caterwauling."
All this was pronounced as if he had not seen me--in fact, it was a
soliloquy, for the cat did not stay to bear it. "Ah!" said he, holding
out his hand to me, "how do you do? I know your face, but damn me if I
have not forgot your name."
"My name, sir," said I, "is Mildmay."
"Ah, Mildmay, my noble, how do you do--how did you leave your father? I
knew him very well--used to give devilish good feeds--many a plate I've
dirtied at his table--don't care how soon I put my legs under it again;
take care, mind which way you put your helm--you will be aboard of my
chickabiddies--don't run athwart-hawse."
I found, on looking down, that I had a string round my leg, which
fastened a chicken to the table, and saw many more of these little
creatures attached to the chairs in the room; but for what purpose they
were thus domesticated I could not discover.
"Are these pet chickens of yours, Sir Hurricane?" said I.
"No," said the admiral, "but I mean them to be pet capons by and by,
when they come to table. I have finished a dozen and a half this
morning, besides that damned old tom-cat."
The mystery was now explained, and I afterwards found out (every man
having his hobby) that the idiosyncrasy of this officer's disposition
had led him to the practice of neutralising the males of any species of
bird or beast, in order to render them more palatable at the table.
"Well, sir," he continued, "how do you like your new ship--how do you
like your old captain?--good fellow, isn't he?--damn his eyes--
countryman of mine--I knew him when his father hadn't as much money as
would jingle on a tombstone. That fellow owes everything to me. I
introduced him to the Duke of ---, and he got on by that interest. But
I say, what do you think of the Halifax girls--nice! a'n't they?"
I expressed my admiration of them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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