Chapter III: Part 3

“The upper deck was cleared, and the boarders rushed below on the main-deck to complete their conquest. Here the slaughter was dreadful, till the Spaniards called out for quarter and the carnage ceased; but no sooner was the firing on board at an end, when the sodgers at the batteries--who had been wondering at the frigate moving away as if by magic, and had been calling a whole reg’ment of saints to help ’em,--let fly from nearly two hundred pieces of cannon, as if they were saying their prayers and wanted the British tars to count the beads. Howsomever the wind was very light close in-shore, and the smoke mantled thick and heavy on the waters, so as to mask the ship from view; but a chance twenty-four-pounder hulled her below the water-mark, and they were obliged to rig the pumps. The main-mast, too, at one time was in danger from the stay and spring-stay being shot away, and the head swell tumbling in made the frigate roll heavily; but about two in the morning they got out of gun shot, the towing boats were called alongside, and every thing made snug. Thus in an hour and three-quarters the frigate was boarded, carried, and clear from the batteries; but, to be sure, considering the little wind there was, and the head swell setting in, she did stretch her legs as if glad to be out of bad company, and the quarantine flag;[2]--for you know, Darby, none in our sarvice likes to be yellowed,--[Darby gave another chuckle, and then took a good pull at his mug to drown remembrances,]--it looks so like a land-crab.

[2] Ships and vessels coming from unclean ports, hoist a yellow flag; and the pensioners are punished for drunkenness by being compelled to wear a yellow coat with red sleeves.

“Well, messmates, sail was soon made on the Harmoine, the shot-hole was plugged up, and the party mustered; when there were found to be only twelve men wounded, amongst whom were the captain and the gunner, Mr. Maxwell. There was not one man killed on the British side, but the Spaniards had 119 killed and 97 wounded, most of them dangerously, and the decks were again stained with human blood, some of which was no doubt shed by those murderers and traitors who had mutinied.

“At day-light next morning the Spaniards were indulged with the sight of both ships standing off shore, and the Harmoine with a British ensign and pennant over the Spanish colours. The prisoners were put on board of a schooner, that was captured during the day, and sent ashore; and the Surprise, with her prize, stood for Jamaica, where she arrived seven days afterwards, and brought up at Port Royal.

“You may be sure, messmates, Captain Hamilton was well received; the Parliament-men at the island gave him a beautiful sword that cost three hundred guineas; he was made a knight on, and the Harmoine was called the Retaliation, and she was immediately put in commission as an English frigate; though in logging her name in the navy list, the Lords of the Admiralty changed it to the Retribution, and I had the honour to be drafted on board her as captain of the main-top.

“Captain Hamilton was invalided home on account of his wounds; but the packet was taken by a French privateer, and he went to see Boneypart, who treated him like a messmate for his bravery, and allowed him to be exchanged for six French middies; and now, my lads, I’ve told you all I know about the recapture of the Harmoine.”

Of course, I expressed my acknowledgments for the obligations I was under to him for his narrative, but this seemed to nettle the old tar very much. How far his account is correct I must leave others to determine, and only regret that I have not been able to do the worthy soul more justice, but it would be impossible for any written description to give an adequate idea of his mode of recital. Our glasses were replenished, for I saw that the old _blades_, like _cutters_ on a wind, were determined to have a taut leech to their jibs by taking a long and strong pull at the purchase; and expecting to gather a fund of anecdote, I e’en made the most of it, and determined to gladden their hearts.

“Well, it’s of no manner of use to go to argufy the matter,” said the old boatswain’s-mate, “and all I’ve got to say is this here. Bill has spun that yarn like a patent winch, and I’m sartin, sooner or later, murder will always meet with its punishment. Many of them mutineers were hung, and I’m thinking that there was one or two jewel-block’d that never set foot on the Harmoine’s deck in their born days; but their lives were sworn away, and arter that they went aloft without touching a rattlin. I knew one on ’em, but I’ll not rip up old grievances like a piece of tarred parcelling. I was at Port Royal when the ships came in, and well remember seeing ’em both. There’s one thing however, messmate, you forgot to tell us, and in the regard of a generous spirit, which I take to be consort with bravery, it ought not to go untold; and that is this here, that Sir Edward divided £500 of his own prize-money amongst the bold fellows who shared the victory with him.”

“That was nobly and generously done,” said I; “such a man deserves to be immortalized.”

“Well, your honour, he was mortalized,” replied the old man; “for on that station of musketoes and grog-blossoms, there warn’t a blue jacket nor yet a jolly but would have followed him into the devil’s kitchen at cooking time. And it’s a rum place that West Ingees, too. I remembers being ashore at one of the resurrections among the niggers, and the ship’s corporal stuck his spoon in the wall; because, I’m thinking, it warn’t very likely that a fellow would ever sup burgoo again, when his head and his body had parted company. Well, we buried him in a wild kind of a spot, where there was a few grave-stones with names chiselled on ’em, and some were cut with a knife, showing a foul anchor or a rammer and sponge, and the trees grew all over the ground, and the rank grass and weeds run up the tombs; it was a wilderness sort of a place, and here it was that Corporal Jack was laid up in ordinary. The party to which I belonged was commanded by Mr. Quinton, a master’s mate, and our bounds lay within a short distance of this here burying-ground; and so, d’ye mind, the morning after they’d lowered the corporal down the hatchway of t’other world, I was posted at the point next the corporal’s berth, and a shipmate was with me by way of companion like,--not that I was afeard of any thing living or dead, but I had always a sort of nat’ral antipathy to being left alone on shore, particularly in the dark. There was also a nigger belonging to the plantation, who we allowed to join us just by way of being civil to him, as he was a kind of steward’s mate in the house, and used to splice the main brace for us occasionally. Well, messmates, we got knotting our yarns to keep us from getting drowsy; and to cheer our spirits, we overhauled a goodish deal about ghosts, and atomies, and hobblegoblins, and all such like justices of the peace, till the nigger--they called him Hannibal, arter the line-of-battle ship, I suppose;--I say, till the nigger declared that every hair on his head stood as stiff as a crow-bar.”

“Avast there!” exclaimed Bill Jennings, “tell that to the marines an you will; why the black fellow’s head was woolly and curled like a Flemish fake, and yet you say it was as stiff as a crow-bar.”

“And so it was,--the more the wonder, and be d---- to you;” growled the boatswain’s-mate. “Would you have his honour there think I keep a false reckoning? Well, as I was a saying, his head looked like a black porcupine with his quills up. All at once we heard a tremendous rattling amongst the dry leaves of a plantain-ground; but the trees were too thick to see what it was even if there had been light enough, which there warn’t, as the sun hadn’t brought his hammock up, but was only just turning out.

“‘Dere him debbil come agin,’ cried the nigger; and away he started, as if a nor-wester had kicked him end-ways.

“‘What the black rascal arter,’ said my messmate.

“‘Nay,’ says I, ‘that’s more nor I can tell; but not being a Christian and only a poor ignoramus of a nigger, I suppose he’s afeard that the noise yonder is Davy Jones playing at single stick, and mayhap he may think the ould gemman is hauling his wind upon this tack, and may take his black muzzle for one of his imps. But that’s a pretty bobbery they’re kicking up, at all events, and now it’s going in the direction of the burying-ground.’

“‘I tell you what it is, Jack,’ says my messmate, who looked very cautiously round him, as if he was rowing guard in an enemy’s port, ‘I tell you what it is; I never thinks they give the devil his due, for between you and me I don’t know as he’s half so bad as many people makes him out. Our parson say he’s black, but the niggers paints him white; but for my part, I’m thinking that the colour of a ship’s paint goes for nothing. Then as for his horns, why they’re ugly looking to be sure;--[here the noise was right away in the burying-ground, and my messmate laid me fairly along side,]--but though they are ugly looking, I never heard of his doing any mischief by running stem on with them. And arter all, shipmate,’ he continued, ‘you must own there’s a great deal in fancy. Look at your Ingee grab-vessels, that run their noses out to the heel of the jib-boom, and carry all their bowsprit in-board! Now I call that sort o’rig neither ship-shape nor Bristol fashion, for a ship’s head is a ship’s head, and a ship’s bowsprit is a ship’s bowsprit; but if they go for to make a standing bowsprit of a ship’s head, then, I’m thinking, they are but lubberly rigged.’

“Now, messmates, you must own that his arguments was a bit of a poser; but I warn’t altogether satisfied with his backing and filling like a grenadier in a squall; and so, says I, ‘But what do you think of his tail, eh?’

“‘Why as for the matter of his tail,’ says he, ‘I’m thinking it’s a fundamental mistake altogether. The parsons say--and mayhap they’re right--that he cruises about privateering, because he’s got a roving commission, and every now and then he falls in with a heavenly convoy, and nips off with a prize, which he carries to his own dark place. Now as some of the craft are, no doubt, dull sailers, why, I suppose, he carries a hawser over his quarter to drag ’em out of the body of the fleet, and I’m thinking that in some dismal hour he has been seen with the fag-end towing astarn, and the fear of the beholder has convarted it into a tail.’

“Well, messmates, I own I was a bit staggered at the likelihoods of the thing, because, d’ye mind, I never could make out the use of the tail; but the tow-rope spoke for itself, so says I, ‘I tell you what it is, shipmate, you’ve just hove my thoughts slap aback and got my ideas in irons--but holloa, there’s a precious row.’

“‘Precious row, indeed,’ says my companion; ‘why Jack--why I’m blessed--look there--if that arn’t the skeleton of Corporal Jack walking off with his own head under his arm; then I’m ----, but here comes Mr. Quinton and the nigger.’

“I did look, messmates, towards the burying-ground, and there I saw a sort of long-legged skeleton straddling over the graves like an albatross topping a ground swell; and, sure enough, the corporal’s head was under his long spider-like arms.

“‘Dere, Massa Quinckem,’ said the black fellow, ‘now he see ’em for he-self.’

“‘By Jove, and so it is, boy,’ cried the officer.

“‘Ay, ay sir,’ says my messmate, ‘it’s the corporal--there’s no mistaking his cutwater; but he must have fallen away mightily during the night, to be so scantily provided with flesh this morning; howsomever, mayhap the climate has melted him down.’

“‘He no melt ’em,’ cried the nigger, ‘he eat ’em for true.’

“‘What! eat his own head,’ says I, ‘he must be in dreadful want of a meal. Come, come, ould chap, that’s too heavy to be hoisted in.’

“Well, all this while the skeleton was walking off with his head in his arms, just as a nurse would carry a baby; but the officer raises his rifle to his shoulder, and it made me laugh to think he was going to shoot a skeleton without a head, and that was as dead as Adam’s grandmother.

“‘For God’s sake, sir,’ says my messmate, ‘don’t go for to fire, for it would be downright blasphemy to kill a dead body; and what makes the fellow turn out of his hammock after being lashed up for a full due, I can’t tell.’

“Bang went the rifle, and down dropped the corporal’s atomy; but up it got again almost directly and made sail for the bush, leaving his head behind to lighten ship. Off starts the black fellow after him, and away went the officer close to his heels. ‘My eyes, shipmate,’ says I, ‘there must be some sport in chasing a skeleton; so e’en let’s keep in their wakes and see it out.’ So off we set, and presently bang went the rifle again, and away flew the corporal’s splinters; so the skeleton gathers himself up, and then laid down on the ground, kicking and sprawling like a bull-whale in his flurry. Well, we ran up and there we found--now what do you think, messmates? Why, it was nothing more nor less than a large land-crab, that was walking away with the corporal’s head as easy as I’d carry a cocoa-nut.”

The old tar ceased, and I naturally expected that some part of his story would be contradicted; but no one seemed to raise a doubt as to the veracity of his statement, and of course politeness would not allow me to differ from the rest.

“Them land-crabs have a power of strength,” said old Darby. “I recollects one night being beached high and dry in the small cutter, and I boat-keeper; so I catches one of these beasts, and claps him under the bows of the boat, whilst I made fast the painter to his hind leg, and then away he stretched out for the water, dragging the cutter with him as if it had been no more than a mouldy biscuit, and if I hadn’t cut the painter pretty smartly, he’d have towed us out to sea in no time.”

“The legs of these crabs must be very long,” said I; “are their bodies in proportion?”

“Why no, your honour,” replied the boatswain’s-mate; “their bodies are but small, seeing that they are all ribs and trucks; but their claws are tremendous. What d’ye think of their reaching up to the top of a gibbet, and having unhooked a pirate that was hung in chains, walked off with him, hoops and all, so that he never was found again!”

“If it really happened,” I replied, “it is truly astonishing.”

“Really happened!” cried the veteran somewhat scornfully. “Ax them as was watching down at Cabrita-point that night, and see if they won’t swear to it.”

“Perhaps it was some of the friends of the pirate who removed the body,” I ventured to suggest.

“Now that comes of your honour’s not knowing nothing of the country,” he rejoined; “for, d’ye mind, all the rogue’s friends were thieves, and if it had been any of them, they’d not only have carried off the body, but would have stole the gibbet for fire-wood, which a land-crab has no manner of use for.”

This certainly was unanswerable, and I forbore asking any more questions on that subject.

“I remember, when I was a boy,” said ----, “I sailed out of Dover in a by-boat under Captain Hammond over to Calais, and Bullun, and Ostend; and there was an ould woman who they used to call Mother Mount, lived at the back of the York Hotel, and she constantly placed herself on the steps of her door observationing the people that passed up and down the street. Captain Hammond never went past the house but he jeered her for a witch, and every body said she was one; till one day, just as we were going across with a good freight of passengers, the ould Jezabel spoke some hard words to the skipper, as he was coming down to the craft to sail out of the harbour. He made no more to do but to spit at her. ‘The curse of the defenceless and childless widow be upon you!’ she cried out. ‘You are bound across the channel, but there are those will be there before you. You will think yourself secure, but woe, and danger, and wreck, shall come at a time when you think not of it, for my curse is upon you!’ The captain came on board in no very gentle humour, and away we went with a flowing sheet for Calais. Our passage was short, but we struck very heavily in crossing the bar, though the water was as smooth as a mill-pond, and every timber in the craft sneered again. The mate, fearing she would gripe-to and run upon the pier-head, was going to ease the throat-halliards; but the captain hollaed out, ‘Hold on till all’s blue; it’s only Mother Mount at her tricks.’ Well, at last we got safe in and hauled alongside the key in the outer-harbour, where we made fast stem and starn and cleared decks.”

“Upon my word, that’s a tough yarn,” said I; “and so you really think it was Mother Mount that bumped you ashore in that fashion.”

“It isn’t for men without larning or edecation such as me to say their say positively,” answered the pensioner, “but--[giving his quid a severe turn]--if I am to speak my mind, I think it was. Well, sir, the captain went ashore to dine with a French gentleman, and when he came aboard again he was rather too much by the head on account of the wine he had hoisted in, and somehow or other it had got stowed away in his fore-peak; so he yawed about like a Dutch schuyt on the Dogger-bank, and almost his last words at turning-in were ‘D-- Mother Mount!’ Well, we all went to our hammocks, and the mate left word for one of the hands to turn out and ’tend her at tide-time, as it looked breezy away to the sou-west. The vessel floated about two o’clock in the morning, and soon afterwards we heard the most tremendous hallo-bulloo upon deck, and the captain swearing in a mixture of high Dutch, low Dutch, Jarman and French, with not a small sprinkling of English dammees. Up the ladder we ran, and there he was with a handspike in his hand thrashing about and stamping fore-and-aft, like a wild pig in a squall. We got him appeased at last, and then he pointed to the mooring ropes; and, sure enough, the head-fast was cast off and partly hauled in-board, and the starn-fast had only a single turn, just ready for letting go when she had winded; the foresail was partly up, and the jib hooked all ready for hauling out. We made all fast and snug again, but the skipper kept raving till daylight in his cabin about Mother Mount and her imps.”

“But what about the imps, my old boy,” exclaimed I; “you’ve said nothing yet about imps. Did they have tails too?”

“Indeed and by all accounts they had, sir,” replied the old man; “for though the skipper was a long time silent about it, yet it came out at last, and he solemnly attested it in his last moments on his death-bed to a clergyman. He declared that whilst he was sleeping something struck his temples so hard that it made the vessel shake again----.”

“Why, he was dreaming to be sure,” said I, “the thump was caused by the vessel just beginning to lift, and the swell rolling in made her strike against the piles. Pray, had the man who was ordered to ’tend her at tide-time got up upon the look-out when the master went on deck?”

“I carn’t say as he was, sir,” answered the veteran, “though I rather think not.”

“Well, go on, my old friend,” requested I, “let’s get to the imps.”

“After receiving one or two heavy blows,” continued the pensioner, “the skipper woke, and he thought he heard a shrill squeaking voice above say, ‘Bear a hand with that foresail and jib, and haul in the head-rope;’ and then there was a sort of a scrambling noise afore the windlass, and another chock aft by the starn lockers. So he slips on his pea-jacket and creeps up the companion, and there he saw five or six monstrous rats forward; two were hoisting the foresail, two were hooking on the jib, one was hauling in the head-rope, and another was shoving her bows off. Abaft was a rat bigger than all the rest, standing at the tiller and giving orders, and another had got hold of the quarter-rope and was singling the turns. You may well guess the ould chap was in a terrible taking at first; his teeth chattered like the palls of a windlass when they shorten in a slack cable; his knees knocked together----”

“Then he was knock-kneed,” said I, laughing heartily. “Really this is a clever tale: first, the old woman makes a threat, then she plays you a _mount-a-bank_ trick, and lastly _rat_ ifies her promise by----”

“I have not got to that yet, sir,” replied the old man, interrupting in his turn; “but you shall hear all about it, if you will only give me time.” He then continued, “Notwithstanding the tremblification the skipper was in at first, he wasn’t a man as was easily to be daunted in the long run; and seeing he was part owner of the craft as well as master, I’m thinking he was afraid they wouldn’t carry her out safely, and mayhap he thought they might turnout to be pi_rats_----”

“That’s half a pun, old boy,” said I; “why your _pirats_ would have made a splendid _rat-pie_, upon short allowance.”

“By all accounts one of ’em would have been meal for half a dozen messes,” replied the _matter-of-fact_ old man. “But as I was a saying, sir, ould Hammond determined that at least he’d be master of his own cutter; for in those days the by-boats had running bowsprits, though they generally carried them over the stem to make most room; and also, that his own crew knew her trim and could work her best, he jumps up upon deck and catches hold of a----”

“A _rat_ tan, or a piece of _rat_ line stuff,” said I, interrupting him.

“No, sir,” answered the veteran rather testily; “he catches hold of a handspik, and began to hammer away like a fellow beating saltpetre bags in an Ingeeman’s hould at Diamond-harbour; and by the time we got upon deck, there wasn’t a rat to be seen nigh hand; though I must say I saw two or three dark objects in the distance running down towards the pier-head, and there was some thing like a man on his hands and knees slowly crawling after them. Howsomever, as I said before, the decks were cleared of the warmin, and we made all fast again.”

“And did you never hear any other explanation of the affair?” inquired I.

“Why,” replied the pensioner, “there was a report that some English and French smugglers broke out of prison that night, and they tried to make the skipper believe that he was deceived as to the rats; but the thing was impossible, for how could the smuggler get through the great gates and pass the sentries? Besides they wouldn’t have turned tail that fashion for one ould man.”

“But the alarm, old boy,” exclaimed I; “the skipper gave an alarm, and the _rats_ were afraid of being _trapped_ again.”

“Why, for the matter o’ that, sir,” assented the veteran, “he did kick up a bit of a bobbery, I own; and the do-oneers came running down from the watch-house, but nobody was taken.”

“That’s curious, too,” said I, “but had they no other means of escape?”

“Why, they did say,” replied the old tar, “that a fishing-boat was missing from somewhere about the mouth of the harbour; but the captain swore to the rats, and ever afterwards used to give the ould woman a trifle of money or so, and speak kindly to her. And d’ye see, sir, I’m thinking that Captain Hammond couldn’t be mistaken as to the rats, because why?--a rat hasn’t a head like a Christian; and then his tail,--no Christian has a tail like a spanker boom over his starn, and so I’ll stick to the rats, for I verily believe they were nothing else.”

“No doubt,” said I, addressing the boatswain’s-mate, “you have seen a great deal of hard service. Have you been in many battles?”

“Why yes, your honour,” he replied, “I’ve had my share of it; but notwithstanding the many chafes I got, if another war was to break out, and I was fifty years younger, provided I could get a good captain and a sweet ship, worthy messmates and a full allowance of grog, I’d sooner sarve in a man-of-war than in any other craft whatsomever. But mark my words, we shan’t never have another such a navy as the last. Arn’t they _arming_ the ships on purpose for them to make use of their _legs_, and run away? What would ould Benbow or Duncan have said to this, with their round starns and chase batteries? Arn’t the fleet got the _dry-rot_ with fundungus, and don’t the new regulations bid fair to give the men the _dry-rot_ too? Who the deuce could weather a storm or engage an enemy upon a pint of grog a-day? But as long as there’s a shot in the locker, it shall go hard but we’ll queer the purser somehow or other, after all.

“I remember Jack Traverse once, and a worthy soul Jack was too, going off at Spithead to join the old Gorgon. Well, d’ye see, as the wherry came from the starboard side to pull up to the larboard gangway, Jack, who had been bowsing his jib up, caught sight of the name painted in gold upon the starn, and so he endeavoured to see what he could make of it; but being cro-jack eyed, and his brains all becalmed, he began, like a dull skull-hard, to spell it backward. ‘N-o, no,’ says Jack, ‘that’s as plain as Beachy Head in a fog; so this arn’t the ship, d’ye mind! Howsomever, let us see what her name is. N-o, no; that’s right; g-r-o-g, grog. Yes, I’m blessed if it arn’t, and both together makes NO GROG! About ship, waterman, she won’t do for me; why, I should be waterlogged in a week, so bear up for the next ship, d’ye hear.’

“The navy, your honour, is the pillars of the state; but if the props are unsound, the whole heady-phiz must tumble to the dust; and oh, to see the flag under which I’ve fought and bled--that flag, whose influence caused such signal exertions in the fleet ‘when Nelson gained the day,’--humbled before the white rag of a Frenchman, or pecked at by the double-headed eagle!--nay, what is worse, degraded in the sight of the stripes and stars! My fervent prayer is, that before the day arrives, these old bones may be hove-down for a full due, and buried in the hollow wave. ’Twould break my heart.

“Howsomever, all this comes of trying to make Jack a gentle-man, a title he once despised; but what with the quibble hums of lawyers, and the comflobgistications of parsons, his head gets filled with proclamations, and his brains whirl round like the dog-vane in a calm. I beg your honour’s pardon, though, for troubling you with so many of my remarks upon the subject; but it must be evident to every body that tars have arrived at a bad pitch, and though I’m no croaker, (I don’t mean him as was at the Admiralty,) yet my spirit is stirred up and must have vent. I sees they have tried to put a stop to smuggling, by taking off the duties. That is as it should be; but there’s another thing I wish, and that is, to get a petition to parley-ment for all the old hard-a-weathers at Greenwich to have their ’bacca duty free. Why, sir, it would be an act of piety; and the worthy old quidnuncs when they take their chaw, or blow a cloud, would bless ’em for it.

“Talking about smuggling, reminds me of a circumstance that happened off Dungeness, when I was in that gallant ship, the Triumph, seventy-four. We were running up channel for the Downs with Dungeness light on our larboard beam, and it was about six bells in the middle watch, when the look-out on the fokstle reported, that there was a lugger close under our bows. ‘Give him a gun,’ cried the officer of the watch. The shot was fired and the lugger instantly let fly her fore-sheet, and rounded to. ‘From whence came you?’ hailed the lieutenant. ‘Wha waw,’ replied the lugger. ‘What the devil place is that?’ said the officer; and again raising the speaking trumpet,--‘where are you bound to?’--‘Wha waw,’ was once more returned. ‘The fellow’s making game of us, sir,’ said the officer to the captain, who, hearing the report of the gun, had come out of his cabin. ‘Shall I board him, sir?’--‘Yes, Mr. ----, lower the quarter-boat down, and see what he is.’

“Well, away we went, and as we pulled towards him, the lieutenant would have it the lugger was a French privateer; but the coxswain, an old hand at the trade, replied, ‘No, sir, she’s no privateer, and I thinks I can _smell_ a secret at this distance. There’s no guns, sir, and but few hands. Eh, eh, we shall see presently.’--‘What are you laden with?’ inquired the officer as soon as we got alongside, and he had jumped upon the deck. ‘What is your cargo?’--‘Bacon and eggs,’ replied a veteran, whose gray locks peeped from underneath a slouched hat, and partly concealed a weather-beaten countenance, where the breakers and time had made deep furrows; ‘bacon and eggs, sir.’--‘It’s of no use axing that man, sir,’ said the coxswain. ‘I can tell him in a minute; he’s brought his hogs to a fine market, and as for eggs,--why, he’s chock full of tubs, your honour, (lifting up the grating.) Ay, there they are, indeed, like eggs in a gull’s nest. There they are, sir; it makes a fellow’s mouth water to look at them. Mayn’t we have a toothful your honour? It’s hard to starve in a land of plenty! I’d only knock one small hole in this head here,’ giving it a thump with the tiller that was nearly accomplishing the purpose.

“‘Avast, avast, sir!’ cried the lieutenant: ‘this is smuggled, and now we must seize it for his majesty.’--‘For his Majesty! all that for his Majesty!’ cries the coxswain. ‘Why, God bless your honour, he’ll never be able to get through the half of it, even though the Prince of Wales should lend him a hand, and I hear he’s no flincher from the gravy. I’m sure, sir, none of the royal family would miss the want of as much as would comfort the heart of a tar in such a raw morning as this, especially as we would drink their healths in a bumper, and that would do ’em more good than swallowing all this here stuff!’--‘Not another word,’ said the officer. ‘Jump into your boat, and (turning to the old man) do you follow him, for I must take you with me!’ The poor fellow was obliged to comply, though he made a good many wry faces, and begged hard; but all to no purpose. So the cutter shoved off, sadly deploring that _all hands_ were so nigh _hollands_, and yet without being able to moisten their clay with a sup before breakfast.

“‘What is she?’ inquired captain E--, as the lieutenant came up the side. ‘A smuggler, sir,’ was the answer. ‘A smuggler, eh!’ cried the captain, ‘and so (addressing the old man) you are one of those lawless characters who run all hazards to run your goods and beach your tubs, bidding defiance to danger and death? What have you to say for yourself?’--‘Sir,’ replied the hoary seaman uncovering his head, and displaying a face where cool determination was struggling with painful sensations, ‘sir, whatever I can say will, perhaps, avail me nothing. The necessities of a large family and numerous distresses have driven me to my present state. All I possess in the world is now in your power, and you are able in one moment, not only to deprive me of liberty, but also to reduce me and mine to utter misery and beggary. For myself, I care but little; but for my fatherless grandchildren,’--he wrung a tear from his eye, and dashed it off in agony; but his countenance almost instantly resumed the stern serenity which appeared to mark his character. Captain E. and the lieutenant took a turn or two aft in deep conversation. At last, eight bells came and the morning watch was turned out. ‘Send all hands on deck,’ said the captain to the boatswain’s-mate, ‘and bear a hand about it.’

“Well, we all mustered aft on the quarter-deck; and the captain, standing on the gratings of the after-hatchway, exclaimed--‘My lads, this old rascal’s a smuggler, and there’s his vessel, your prize. He says our detaining him will be the ruin of himself and family; and how much shall we obtain for plunging a fellow-creature and a countryman into hopeless misery? Why, our gin will be transmogrified into port for the agents and lawyers, and perhaps you would share about nine-pence a-man. Mine and the officers would amount to about twenty pounds, which we are ready to forego,--nay more, I am ready to give you that sum out of my own pocket. So what d’ye say, lads? shall we make him splice the main-brace, and let the old rogue go?’ A simultaneous ‘Ay, ay, sir,’ resounded from all hands. ‘Well, then, my men, we’ll have six tubs out of him for that purpose; so jump into the boat again, and you old Blow-hard must swear through thick and thin that you have never set eyes upon us!’ The old man turned round, fell upon his knees, and, laying his hand upon his heart, poured forth a volley of thanks; but just as he was going over the side,--‘Avast,’ cried the captain, ‘you must swear upon the binnacle never to divulge what has taken place.’ This was done, and the smuggler returned to the boat with a lighter heart than when he entered it at first.

“Away we pulled alongside the lugger; but, when their master told them they were clear, my eyes! the men were like wild fellows, and would have swamped us with tubs. ‘Only six, Mr. E,’ cried the captain from the gangway: ‘if you bring more, I shall send you back with them.’ But we had plenty to drink, and then stood for our ship again.

“Well, d’ye see, the six tubs were placed under the poop-awning; and as soon as the captain had turned in, the lieutenant sent two of them to the captain’s cabin, one to the ward-room, one to the midshipmen’s berth, and another to the warrant-officers’ mess, leaving only a solitary tub for the whole of the ship’s company.

“Well, d’ye see, at day-light out came the captain again and looked for the stuff ‘Why, Mr. ----, where--where--what have you done with the grog?’ The officer told him how it had been disposed of. ‘No, no,’ says the skipper: ‘fair play’s a jewel, sir: have it all on deck directly, and let every man fore-and-aft share alike. I shall only take my allowance with the rest, that all hands may be tarred by the same brush.’ So the stuff was started into the wash-deck-tub, and equally divided among officers and crew.”

Here the boatswain’s-mate ceased, and took a determined pull from his pewter, whilst the various groupes assembled (for our numbers had increased,) were all unanimous in voting Captain E---- to be “a generous soul, what ’ud always see a poor fellow righted in the long run,” and each had some anecdote to relate respecting him; but as all were talking at the same moment, it was impossible to collect them.

“I was with him,” exclaimed an old pensioner, “off Scamperdown, when Duncan fought the Dutch fleet, and we engaged and took the Worser-never; and after she struck, we stood on and attacked the Fry-hard, that carried ould Winter’s flag,--blue at the main. It was just arter the mutiny too, and some of our hands went from the bilboes to their guns. But Captain E---- knew the stuff a blue jacket was made on, and was glad of the opportunity of rubbing off old scores with the gunner’s sponge.”

“Talking about smuggling,” said Bill Jennings, “puts me in mind of the way we used to get dollars off at Boney’s Airs,[3] when I was in the Mutine sloop of war along with Captain Fabian, and we had three fine Deal-built boats that ’ud walk along like race-horses. Well, all the boats’ crews had belts round their waists with pockets to ’em, each just big enough to hold a roll of fifty dollars; so that every man could carry three hundred,--and a tolerably good cargo, too, considering he had to walk as steady as a pump-bolt on shore for fear of the custom-house officers, and to stretch out pretty smartly at his oar when he got into the boat--supposing the wind warn’t fair. Well, one day says the marchant to our coxswain, as we was standing in his store,--says he, ‘My lad, do you see this here cask?’ which was rather a foolish question to be sure, seeing it was a half-hogshead, such as the small craft had their rum in, and he might have been sartin that Tom Crampton had twigged it. Howsomever, the marchant says to him, ‘My lad,’ says he, ‘do you see this here cask?’ Now it puzzled Tom to think what tack he was standing on, for the licker-bottles were all filled chock-a-block on the side-board, and ‘Mayhap,’ says Tom to himself whilst he scratched his head, ‘mayhap, his honour’s not never a going to gie me it all?’ Howsomever, says the marchant, says he, ‘My lad, do you see this here cask?’ Tom looked at the half-hogshead and then at the marchant, and then at the rum-bottle, as much as to say he was working a traverse to find the latitude and the longitude of the thing; and then he scratched his head, and took a severe turn with his quid, and ‘My lad, do you see this here cask?’ axed the marchant. ‘I do, your honour,’ says Tom; ‘and I’ll take my oath on it, if your honour wishes.’--‘No, no,’ says the marchant, ‘your word’s enough. So bring up your boat’s crew, and get ’em aboard as quick as you can.’

[3] Buenos Ayres.

“Now Tom thought that the men were to come up for the stuff and then to go on board the sloop, so as to get there before dark as she lay in the outer roads, about seven miles from the town; so says Tom, says he, ‘God bless your honour! I’ll have ’em up in the wink of a blind eye, and I’m sure they’ll thank your honour for your goodness. Is it rum or brandy?’--‘What do you mean?’ axed the marchant. ‘The cask, your honour,’ says Tom, ‘is it Gemaker, or Coney-hack?’--‘Neither the one nor the other,’ says the marchant; ‘them there are all dollars.’--‘Whew!’ whistles Tom; ‘now I understands your honour, but couldn’t we contrive to get ’em down in the cask just as they are; so that instead of making four or five trips, we may carry off the whole in the turning of a log-glass?’--‘I fear that ’ud be too great a risk,’ says the marchant; ‘or else I wish it could be done.’ ‘Why for the matter o’ the risk,’ says Tom, ‘there’s only one ould chap as I cares about; but he’s always boxing the compass of every thing that he catches sight on, living or dead. But I think I could get to windward of him, arter all’s said and done, and there’s no risk with the men, you know.’ So Tom was allowed to make trial of his skill; and away he goes and gets a purser’s bread-bag, and then walks off to the market and buys a couple o’ sheep’s heads, which he stows away in the bag along with a little hundred of cabbages and inyuns, till it was chock-full. Well, the cask of dollars was got into a cart, which drove off,--Tom keeping a good cable’s length a-head with his bread-bag over his shoulder and a piece of wood shaped like a sugar-loaf done up in a blue paper under his arm; for I should tell you, messmates, that was the way they used to smuggle off the solid silver, and the old coast-guard had made a prize of a couple of these sugar-loaves only a day or two afore. Well, on goes Tom, bending beneath his bag like a crank craft under whole topsails, and now and then taking a heavy lurch to draw attention.

“The jetty runs a good two hundred yards into the river, and right in the teeth of the upper part on it stands the guard-house, where ould Jack Spaniard kept as sharp a look out as a Jew crimp upon pay-day, and presently he sees Tom rolling along and looking as wise as the cook’s-mate in a sudden squall. So he mounts a cockt-hat as big as a Guinea-man’s caboose with a feather in it as ’ud have sarved the whole Chatham division of jollies, and curling his mouthstarshers he marches up to Tom and bids him back his main-yard; but Tom took no notice for the moment, till the ould Signor cries out, ‘Blood and ounds,’ in Spanish, and then he pretends to cotch sight of him for the first time. Away starts Tom as if he was afraid of being boarded, and the Spaniard whips out his rapper, as they calls a sword in that country, and runs him right through the heart--”

“God bless me!” exclaimed I, interrupting old Jennings; “what! did the poor fellow get murdered for his frolic?”

“Murdered, your honour!” reiterated Bill Jennings; “Tom murdered! No, no, the shove gave him better headway--”

“Why did not you declare, but this minute,” said I, “that the Spaniard run him through the heart?”

“Through Tom’s heart! Lord love you, no,” he replied; “it warn’t Tom’s heart, but through the heart of a cabbage, I was going to say, only your honour interrupted me,--a cabbage that was in the bag. Well, there was a pretty chase all along shore, till the Spaniard fires a pistol that hit him right in the head--”

“Well, then, he’s dead enough now, I suppose,” exclaimed I, “if shooting through the head will kill a man.”

“It warn’t Tom’s head,” he replied, laughing, “it was the sheep’s head; for Tom kept the ould chap dodging about till he saw the cask of dollars was in the boat, and she with her three lugs rap full standing off shore with a spanking breeze, and then he pretends to trip up over a piece of rock and lays him all along, hove down on his beam ends. Up comes the Signor hand over hand; because why? Poor Tom had made every nail an anchor, and clung to the earth as if it had been his own nat’ral mother. So, up comes the Signor and grabs hold of the bag, which Tom held on, like grim death against the doctor; but after some tuzzling, Tom lets go the bag and runs for it, leaving Jack Spaniard with his prize. Well, Tom gets down to the captain’s gig and shoves off to the Muskitoe schooner, what was lying in-shore, and the Signor hoists the bag on his shoulders, fully sartin from the weight that he’d made a rich seizure, and back he marches to the guard-house, where every soul had turned out to enjoy a sight of the chase, (so that the cart with the cask passed by without being examined,) and now remained grouped together to see what the Signor had got. There was Spanish sodgers in their cockt-hats, custom-house officers in their long punchos, and coast-o’guinea niggers, men and women, cracking their jokes at the expense of poor Tom, and highly delighted that his cargo was captured, nothing doubting but that it was dollars, or mayhap ounce-bits--that’s doubleloons, messmates,--and all were eager to see it opened, little suspecting it was a mere bag o’ moonshine. Well, the Signor comes right slap into the middle of ’em, puffing and blowing like a sparmacity, and throws down his treasure; one of the black fellows out’s knife and cuts the seizing at the mouth of the bread-bag, and away rolls sheep’s heads and cabbages with a good sprinkling of garlic; and, my eyes, the sodgers began to roar with laughing; the custom-house officers turned-to and swore at every Saint in the calendar, the niggers went dancing mad with delight at the fun, whilst the ould Signor twirled his mouthstarshers and cursed every thing an inch high. But the dollars were safe, and Tom got a handsome present for his trouble; whilst Jack Spaniard was in a precious stew of sheep’s heads and impartinances to think he’d been done so completely.”

“I dearly loves them there sort o’things,” said a weather-beaten old blade; “there’s a some-ut sentimental about ’em that excites simperthy, and brings to the memory many an ould scene of former times.”

“You’re right, boy Ben,” rejoined my first conductor, who had told me of the Mutiny of the Hermione, “and so they do. Some people calls ’em _rum-on-tick_, but I can’t for the life of me tell why, as they seldom gives us credit for much spirits; but if his honour there has no objection, I’ll just give him a yarn that’s twirling in my brain, and mayhap it may please him.”

I readily assented to the proposal, and he accordingly began,--“I remember once, when under the command of the gallant Sir Sidney Smith, up the Mediterranean, we were scouring the coast, and brushing away the French troops; the captain ordered a party in the barge and launch to rig for going ashore, as he intended to pay a visit to a nobleman, who resided about two miles inland, on an elegant estate. Now, the old master was an immense stout man, as big as a grampus; he always gave the vessel a heel to the side he was walking: and as he hadn’t been on dry ground for many months, he was invited to join the captain and some of the other officers in their cruize. But, Lord love you! he thought the ship wouldn’t be safe without him; and, as for fighting like the sodgers, with their marching and their countermarching, why, he didn’t understand their heavylutions, and wasn’t going to be made a light-infantry of. However, they persuaded the old gemman at last; all hands got into the boats, and we shoved off. It was a lovely morning, and as we pulled along-shore, the scenery was beautiful; but more so when we landed and took our course to the nobleman’s house. A wild and romantic spot it was; rocks piled on rocks, yet crowned with verdure--the dark forest and the green fields; while the calm ocean reflected with dazzling brightness the golden beams of the sun.

“Well, d’ye see, the nobleman was glad to see us all, for the French had retreated three weeks before, and he said there wasn’t a trooper within a hundred miles. The wine was set abroach, and all hands began to make merry, particularly Sir Sidney and the officers.

“‘Well, master,’ said the captain, ‘how have you enjoyed your walk?’

“‘Very much, indeed, sir; but,’--looking to seaward,--‘I’m afraid they’re getting the ship too close in. How sweetly she sits, like a duck upon the water! Gad, I’m sorry I left her.’ And then he bellowed, ‘Why don’t you wear round upon t’other tack? But they can’t hear me, so I may just as well whistle jigs to a mermaid.’

“‘Never mind,’ returned the skipper, ‘they’ll keep her afloat; so drink your wine, and make yourself happy.’

“Happy, eh? what out of his ship? That was impossible; so the old man kept growling, like a distant thunder storm. The castle we were in was situated upon a rising ground, that commanded an extensive view of the country; but we were on that side which was next the sea, and after a good _blow_ out,--that is, when we had re-_galed_ ourselves, and the captain had gained what information he wanted, just as we were coming away, in rushed a tall meagre-looking figure, with a face as long as a purser’s account, and as pale as a corpse, while his teeth chattered like a watchman’s rattle.

“‘What’s the matter,--what’s the matter?’ inquired Sir Sidney; but the man was breathless with running, and couldn’t answer. He wrung his hands, and pointed inland. The officers made the best of their way aloft to the top of the castle, and there, with their glasses, discovered a troop of French cavalry, about 200, carrying on under a heavy press.

“My eyes! there was a job. To defend the ship,--the castle, I mean,--was out of the question; for there warn’t above twenty of us up from the boats; besides, it would have been the ruin of the nobleman, in case of defeat. So orders were given to make the best of our way down, and every man to look out for himself. But what was to become of the master? He could hardly walk; and for running, that was impossible, for his legs were so short, he could make no hand at it. The officers proposed to conceal him; but he swore he wouldn’t be stowed away like a bale of damaged slops returned unserviceable, and perhaps be cotch’d and get fricasseed and carbonadoed, like a young frog. ‘No,’ said he; ‘crack on, my boys; and the devil take the starnmost.’

“Off we set, but poor old Soundings couldn’t hold it out; he puffed, and blowed, and waddled along, till he tripped over a mound of earth; and there he lay, like an island of flesh amidst an ocean of grass. Sir Sidney hove to, and laughed till his sides shook. However, he ordered a couple of hands to raise the old gemman on their shoulders, and run with all their might.