I soon entered into conversation with one of the young gentlemen who was
destined to be, for so long, my messmate. I told him that the air below
would kill me. He acknowledged that it was bad enough to kill a dog,
but that a reefer could stand it. He also advised me not to have my
uniforms altered by the ship's tailors, as it would be done in a
bungling manner; but to get leave to go on shore, and that he would
introduce me to a very honest tradesman, who would do me justice. I
expressed my hopes to him, in a dry manner, that he did not belong to
the regiment of horse marines. He understood me, and said, upon his
honour, no: that it was all fair and above board; and as a
recommendation, which he thought would be irresistible, he added that
this tailor had a very pretty daughter, with the very pretty name of
Jemima.
As the latter information was very satisfactory evidence as to the skill
and honesty of the tradesman, I could not be guilty of such a _non
sequitur_ as not to promise to employ him. I then told him to make
haste and come on shore with me. I now was made painfully sensible
that, before I could enjoy my wishes, a little ceremony was needful; in
fact, that my powers of locomotion were no longer under my own control,
excepting for about one hundred and twenty feet in one direction, and
about thirty-five in another. As I was passing over the starboard side
of the quarter-deck, to ask leave to go on shore, the captain accosted
me, and did me the honour to request my company to dinner at his table.
Finding him in so bland a humour, I preferred my request to live on
shore till the ship sailed. He smiled at the enormity of my demand, and
asked what induced it. I frankly told him the filth and bad smell of my
accommodations; and also my wish not to be seen on board until my
uniforms were complete.
"He's an original," said the captain to the first-lieutenant, "but there
is some sense in his request. I suppose _you_ have no objection, Mr
Farmer? Young gentleman," he continued, turning to me, "you must always
ask the first-lieutenant, in future, for leave. Mind, don't be later
than four o'clock."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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