This last incomprehensible remark drove me off the deck, and I retreated
to the cock-pit, where I found Mrs Trotter. "O my dear!" said she, "I
am glad you are come, as I wish to put your clothes in order. Have you
a list of them--where is your key?" I replied that I had not a list,
and I handed her the key, although I did not forget the caution of the
midshipman; yet I considered that there could be no harm in her looking
over my clothes when I was present. She unlocked my chest, and pulled
every thing out, and then commenced telling me what were likely to be
useful, and what were not.
"Now, these worsted stockings," she said, "will be very comfortable in
cold weather, and in the summer time these brown cotton socks will be
delightfully cool, and you have enough of each to last you till you
outgrow them; but as for these fine cotton stockings, they are of no
use--only catch the dirt when the decks are swept, and always look
untidy. I wonder how they could be so foolish as to send them; nobody
wears them on board ship now-a-days. They are only fit for women--I
wonder if they would fit me." She turned her chair away, and put on one
of my stockings, laughing the whole of the time. Then she turned round
to me and showed me how nicely they fitted her. "Bless you, Mr Simple,
it's well that Trotter is in the hold, he'd be so jealous--do you know
what these stockings cost? They are of no use to you, and they fit me.
I will speak to Trotter, and take them off your hands." I replied, that
I could not think of selling them, and as they were of no use to me and
fitted her, I begged that she would accept of the dozen pairs.
We had beef-steaks and onions for dinner that day, but I could not bear
the smell of the onions. Mr Trotter came down very cross, because the
first lieutenant had found fault with him. He swore that he would cut
the service. He drank glass of grog after glass of grog, and at each
glass became more violent; and Mrs Trotter drank also, I observed, a
great deal more than I thought she ought to have done; but she whispered
to me, that she drank it that Trotter might not, as he would certainly
be tipsy. I thought this very devoted on her part; but they sat so late
that I went to bed and left them--he still drinking and vowing vengeance
against the first lieutenant. I had not been asleep above two or three
hours, when I was awakened by a great noise and quarrelling, and I
discovered that Mr Trotter was drunk and beating his wife. Very much
shocked that such a charming woman should be beaten and ill-used, I
scrambled out of my hammock to see if I could be of any assistance, but
it was dark, although they scuffled as much as before. I asked the
marine, who was sentry at the gun-room door above, to bring his lantern,
and was very much shocked at his replying that I had better go to bed
and let them fight it out.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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