Marmaduke Merry: A Tale of Naval Adventures in Bygone DaysKingston, William Henry Giles
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Marmaduke Merry: A Tale of Naval Adventures in Bygone Days
Kingston, William Henry Giles
Midshipmen -- Fiction; Sea stories
The next day, Grey, and I, and Spellman were ordered to join the
schooner with twenty hands. Perigal still kept command, and at the last
moment McAllister came on board to act as his first-lieutenant, with the
assistant-surgeon Macquoid, and a clerk, Bobus, as purser. Of course
the schooner did not require so many officers and men to navigate her,
but we hoped to take many prizes, and hands of course would be wanted to
bring them home. We invited the old colonel to accompany us. With a
most amusing grimace, and an inimitable shake of the head and shrugs of
the shoulders, he answered,--"Ah, mes jeunes gentlemens, I do love vous
va-a mosh; but de mer--de terrible mer. I do vish de verld ver von big
earth and no vater." So we had to leave the colonel and our French
lessons behind; but we assured him that we would study hard during our
absence. Good as were our intentions, it was not very likely that we
could adhere to them, and, by the expression of his countenance, the
colonel showed that he was strongly of that opinion.
We sailed at daybreak, and had the land breeze to take us out of the
harbour. Our course was to the southward, towards the well-known
Spanish Main. Our schooner was the Espoir. She sailed well, and
carried two eighteen-pounders and six long eights, so that we had every
reason to hope that we should pick up some prizes, if we did not get
taken ourselves. That last contingency did not occur to us. Though it
was hot, and we were rather crowded in the cabin, we had a very pleasant
time on board. We naturally messed together, and had secured all the
good things from the shore, in the shape of fruits and vegetables, and
poultry and liquor, which we could collect. It is very well for poets
and authors to make their heroes contented with hard fare. I can only
say that midshipmen are not, if they know that better is to be got; and
I have observed, whenever I have been in the society of poets and other
authors, that, practically, they have enjoyed a good dinner as much as
any class of people could do, and been very much inclined to grumble if
they did not get it, too. We were out some days without sighting a
single sail, but we were not the less merry, living upon hope, and the
good fare our caterer, Macquoid, had collected. At length a sail was
seen, and chase made. It was some time before we could make out whether
the stranger was a man-of-war or merchantman, a friend or foe. She was
a brig we soon discovered, and when we saw her up helm and run off
before the wind, we had no doubt as to her pacific character. Still she
might be English, and, if so, we should have had our chase for nothing.
She was a slow sailer, for we came up with her rapidly. We had showed
no colours, and had got her within range of our long guns, when up went
the French ensign. A cheer burst from our throats. It would have been
more hearty if we had thought she had been armed. We showed our colours
in return.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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