Mr. Midshipman Easy by Frederick Marryat (top 10 inspirational books txt) 📕
"You are correct, Doctor," replied Mr Easy, "and her head proves that she is a modest young woman, with strong religious feeling, kindness of disposition, and every other requisite."
"The head may prove it all for what I know, Mr Easy, but her conduct tells another tale."
"She is well fitted for the situation, ma'am," continued the Doctor.
"And if you please, ma'am," rejoined Sarah, "it was such a little one."
"Shall I try the baby, ma'am?" said the monthly nurse, who had listened in silence. "It is fretting so, poor thing, and has its dear little fist right down its throat."
Dr Middleton gave the signa
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“But you must have been with Mesty,” observed Captain Wilson, “when he did me the service.’
“I was with him, sir,” replied Jack, with great modesty; “but was of very little service.”
“How is your friend Gascoigne this evening?”
“Oh, not very bad, sir-he wants a glass of grog.”
“And Mr Martin?” Jack shook his head.
“Why, the surgeon thinks he will do well.”
“Yes, sir, and so I told Martin; but he said that it was very well to give him hope-but that he thought otherwise.”
“You must manage him, Mr Easy; tell him that he is sure of his promotion.”
“I have, sir, but he won’t believe it. He never will believe it till he has his commission signed. I really think that an acting order would do more than the doctor can.”
“Well, Mr Easy, he shall have one tomorrow morning. Have you seen Mr Pottyfar? he, I am afraid, is very bad.”
“Very bad, sir; and they say is worse every day, and yet his wound is healthy, and ought to be doing well.”
Such was the conversation between Jack and his captain, as they sat at breakfast on the third morning after the action.
The next day Easy took down an acting order for Martin, and put it into his hands. The mate read it over as he lay bandaged in his hammock.
“It’s only an acting order, Jack,” said he; “it may not be confirmed.
Jack swore, by all the articles of war, that it would be; but Martin replied that he was sure it never would.
“No, no,” said the mate, “I knew very well that I never should be made. If it is not confirmed, I may live; but if it is, I am sure to die.”
Everyone that went to Martin’s hammock wished him joy, of his promotion; but six days after the action, poor Martin’s remains were consigned to the deep.
The next person who followed him was Mr Pottyfar, the first lieutenant, who had contrived, wounded as he was, to reach a packet of the universal medicine, and had taken so many bottles before he was found out, that he was one morning found dead in his bed, with more than two dozen empty phials under his pillow, and by the side of his mattress. He was not buried with his hands in his pockets, but when sewed up in his hammock, they were, at all events, laid in the right position.
Modern philanthropy, which, as usual, is the cause of much trouble and vexation.
IN THREE WEEKS the Aurora, with her prize in tow, arrived at Malta. The wounded were sent to the hospital, and the gallant Russian captain recovered from his wounds about the same time as Mr Hawkins, the chaplain.
Jack, who constantly called to see the chaplain, had a great deal to do to console him. He would shake his hands as he lay in his bed, exclaiming against himself. “Oh,” would he say, “the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. That I, a man of God, as they term me, who ought to have been down with the surgeons, whispering comfort to the desponding, should have gone on deck (but I could not help it), and have mixed in such a scene of slaughter. What will become of me?’
Jack attempted to console him by pointing out, that not only chaplains, but bishops, have been known to fight in armour from time immemorial. But Mr Hawkins’s recovery, was long doubtful, from the agitation of his mind. When he was able to walk, Jack introduced to him the Russian captain, who was also just out of his bed.
“I am most happy to embrace so gallant an officer,” said the Russian, who recognised his antagonist, throwing his arms round the chaplain, and giving him a kiss on both cheeks. “What is his rank?” continued he, addressing himself to Jack, who replied, very quietly, “that he was the ship’s padre.”
“The padre!” replied the captain, with surprise, as Hawkins turned away with confusion. ‘The padre-par exemple! Well, I always had a great respect for the church. Pray, sir,” said he, turning to Easy, ‘do your padres always head your boarders?”
“Always, sir,” replied Jack; “it’s a rule of the service-and the duty of a padre to show the men the way to heaven. It’s our ninety-ninth article of war.”
“You are a fighting nation,” replied the Russian, bowing to Hawkins, and continuing his walk, not exactly pleased that he had been floored by a parson.
Mr Hawkins continued very disconsolate for some time; he then invalided, and applied himself to his duties on shore, where he would not be exposed to such temptations from his former habits.
As the Aurora, when she was last at Malta, had nearly exhausted the dockyard for her repairs, she was even longer fitting out this time, during which Captain Wilson’s despatches had been received by the Admiral, and had been acknowledged by a brig sent to Malta. The Admiral, in reply, after complimenting him upon his gallantry and success, desired that, as soon as he was ready, he should proceed to Palermo with communications of importance to the authorities, and having remained there for an answer, was again to return to Malta to pick up such of his men as might be fit to leave the hospital, and then join the Toulon fleet. This intelligence was soon known to our hero, who was in ecstasies at the idea of again seeing Agnes and her brothers. Once more the Aurora sailed away from the high crowned rocks of Valette, and with a fine breeze dashed through the deep blue waves.
But towards the evening the breeze increased, and they were under double-reefed topsails. On the second day they made the coast of Sicily, not far from where Easy and Gascoigne had been driven on shore; the weather was then more moderate, and the sea had, to a great degree, subsided. They therefore stood in close to the coast, as they had not a leading wind to Palermo. As they stood in, the glasses, as usual, were directed to land; observing the villas with which the hills and valleys were studded, with their white fronts embowered in orange groves.
“What is that, Gascoigne,” said Easy, “under that precipice?-it looks like a vessel.”
Gascoigne turned his glass in the direction- “Yes, it is a vessel on the rocks: by her prow she looks like a galley.”
“It is a galley, sir-one of the row galleys-I can make out her bank of oars,’ observed the signal-man.
This was reported to Captain Wilson, who also examined her.
“She is on the rocks, certainly,” observed he; “and I think I see people on board. Keep her away a point, quarter-master.”
The Aurora was now steered right for the vessel, and in the course of an hour was not more than a mile from her. Their suppositions were correct-it was one of the Sicilian government galleys bilged on the rocks, and they now perceived that there were people on board of her, making signals with their shirts and pieces of linen.
“They must be the galley-slaves; for I perceive that they do not one of them change their positions: the galley must have been abandoned by their officers and seamen, and the slaves left to perish.”
“That’s very hard,” observed Jack to Gascoigne; “they were condemned to the galleys, but not to death.”
“They will not have much mercy from the waves,” replied Gascoigne; “they will all be in kingdom come tomorrow morning, if the breeze comes more on the land. We have already come up two points this forenoon.”
Although Captain Wilson did not join in this conversation, which he overheard as he stood on the forecastle gun, with his glass over the hammocks, it appears he was of the same opinion: but he demurred: he had to choose between allowing so many of his fellow creatures to perish miserably, or to let loose upon society a set of miscreants, who would again enter a course of crime until they were recaptured, and, by so doing, probably displease the Sicilian authorities. After some little reflection he resolved that he would take his chance of the latter. The Aurora was hove-to in stays, and the two cutters ordered to be lowered down, and the boat’s crew to be armed.
“Mr Easy, do you take one cutter, and the armourers; pull on board of the galley, release those people, and land them in small divisions. Mr Gascoigne, you will take the other to assist Mr Easy, and when he lands them in his boat, you will pull by hit side ready to act, in case of any hostile attempt on the part of the scoundrels; for we must not expect gratitude: of course, land them at the nearest safe spot for debarkation.”
In pursuance of these orders, our two midshipmen pulled away to the vessel. They found her fixed hard upon the rocks, which had pierced her slight timbers, and, as they had supposed, the respectable part of her crew, with the commander, had taken to the boats, leaving the galley-slaves to their fate. She pulled fifty oars, but had only thirty-six manned. These oars were forty feet long, and ran in from the thole-pin with a loom six feet long, each manned by four slaves, who were chained to their seat before it, by a running chain made fast by a padlock in amidships. A plank, of two feet wide, ran fore and aft the vessel between the two banks of oars, for the boatswain to apply the lash to those who did not sufficiently exert themselves.
“Viva los Inglesos!” cried the galley-slaves, as Easy climbed up over the quarter of the vessel.
“I say, Ned, did you ever see such a precious set of villains?” observed Easy, as he surveyed the faces of the men who were chained.
“No,” replied Gascoigne; “and I think if the captain had seen them as we have, that he would have left them where they were.”
“I don’t know-but, however, our orders are positive. Armourer, knock off all the padlocks, beginning aft; when we have a cargo we will land them. How many are there?-twelve dozen-twelve dozen villains to let loose upon society. I have a great mind to go on board again and report my opinion to the captain—one hundred and forty-four villains, who all deserve hanging-for drowning is too good for them.”
“Our orders are to liberate them, Jack.”
“Yes; but I should like to argue this point with Captain Wilson.’
“They’ll send after them fast enough, Jack, and they’ll all be in limbo again before long,” replied Gascoigne.
“Well, I suppose we must obey orders; but it goes against my conscience to save such villainous-looking rascals. Armourer, hammer away.”
The armourer, who with the seamen appeared very much of Jack’s opinion, and had not commenced his work, now struck off the padlocks one by one with his sledgehammer. As soon as they were released the slaves were ordered into the cutter, and when it was sufficiently loaded Jack shoved off, followed by Gascoigne as guard, and landed them at the point about a cable’s length distant. It required six trips before they were all landed; the last cargo were on shore, and Easy was desiring the men to shove off, when one of the galleriens turned round, and cried out to Jack in a mocking tone, “Addio, signor, a reveder la.” Jack started, stared, and, in the squalid, naked wretch who addressed
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