Great Britain -- History, Naval -- 18th century -- Fiction; Nore Mutiny, 1797 -- Fiction
The pilot captain, who, like all those who ply in this dangerous and
intricate navigation, had been brought up to it from his youth, was a
tall gaunt personage, of about fifty years of age, and familiar in his
manner. Whether he had found some difficulty in keeping in check the
passengers from the Indiamen, whom he had been in the habit of taking up
to Calcutta (whose spirits were, in all probability, rather buoyant upon
their first release from the confinement of a tedious passage), or
whether from a disposition naturally afraid of encroachment, he was
incessantly informing you that "he was captain of his own ship."
Although in all other parts he was polite, yet upon this he paid no
respect to persons, as the governor-general and his staff, much to their
amusement, and occasionally to their annoyance, found to be the case,
when they ascended the river under his charge.
"Happy to see you on board, Captain M---. Hope you will make yourself
comfortable, and call for everything you want. Boy, take this trunk
down into the state cabin. Happy to see you, gentlemen, and beg you
will consider yourselves quite at home--at the same time beg to observe
that I'm `_Captain of my own ship_.'"
"So you ought to be," replied Captain M---, smiling, "if your ship was
no larger than a nutshell. I'm captain of _my_ own ship, I can assure
you."
"Very glad we agree upon that point, Captain M---. Young gentleman,"
continued he, addressing himself to Courtenay, "you'll oblige me by not
coming to an anchor on my hen-coops. If you wish to sit down, you can
call for a chair."
"Rather annoying," muttered Courtenay, who did not much like being
called "young gentleman."
"A chair for the young gentleman," continued the captain of the
schooner. "Starboard a little, Mr Jones,--there is rather too much
cable out, till the tide makes stronger. I presume you are not used to
_kedging_, captain. It's a very pretty thing, as you will acknowledge.
Starboard yet. Give her the helm quick, Mr Thompson. Why, sir, do you
know that I was once very nearly on shore on the tail of this very bank,
because a young lady, who was going up to Calcutta, would take the helm?
The mate could not prevent her--she refused to let it go; and, when I
commanded her, told me, with a laugh, that she could steer as well as I
could. I was obliged to prove to her, in rather an unpleasant manner,
that I was captain of my own ship."
"Why, you did not flog her, did you, captain?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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