The officer commanding the boat handed me a pencil and a card; I wrote
my name and gave it to the poor woman; she took my hand as I gave it
her, kissed the card repeatedly, and put it into her bosom. The
officer, impatient to shove off, ordered her husband into the boat--she
followed, clinging to him, wet as he was--the boat shoved off, and I
hastened up to the inn to dry my clothes. I could not help observing,
at the time, how the fear of a greater evil will absorb all
consideration for a minor. Satisfied that her husband had not perished,
she had hardly once appeared to remember that she had lost her child.
I had only brought one suit of clothes with me: they were in very good
condition when I arrived, but salt water plays the devil with a uniform.
I lay in bed until they were dry; but when I put them on again, not
being before too large for me, for I grew very fast, they were now
shrunk and shrivelled up so as to be much too small. My wrists appeared
below the sleeves of my coat--my trowsers had shrunk halfway up to my
knees--the buttons were all tarnished, and altogether I certainly did
not wear the appearance of a gentlemanly, smart midshipman. I would
have ordered another suit, but the examination was to take place at ten
o'clock the next morning, and there was no time. I was therefore
obliged to appear as I was, on the quarter-deck of the line-of-battle
ship, on board of which the passing was to take place. Many others were
there to undergo the same ordeal, all strangers to me, as I perceived by
their nods and winks to each other, as they walked up and down in their
smart clothes, not at all inclined to make my acquaintance.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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