This, I may here add, I succeeded in doing; for, I made my reappearance on the quarter-deck in a brace of shakes, with the boatswain in person and a party of topmen bringing aft the respective "purchases" the commander had specified—blocks and strops and running gear of all sorts, all ready for instant service.

"Mr Hawser," said Commander Nesbitt to the boatswain as we got near, giving me a kindly nod to express his approval of my having carried out his orders so promptly, "I must have that main-tops'l yard up before you pipe to dinner."

"Very good, sir," replied the warrant officer, touching his cap again, as he had done when approaching the sacred precincts of the quarter-deck. "The spar, sir, is fitted all right for going up; but, sir, it's getting on now for Seven Bells."

"I don't care what the time is, bosun; it's got to be done, and that's the long and the short of it," retorted the commander sharply, flashing his eyes in a way that showed he was not to be put off when he had once made up his mind. "Maintop, there!"

"Ay, ay, sir," answered the captain of the top, looking over the rail instantly and leaving off the work of fitting the upper standing rigging, on which he and his men were engaged when this vigorous hail reached the top, thundered out with all the power of the commander's lungs. "Want me down, sir?"

"Down? No, my man; but lower a whip at once for the sail burton, and you can lower the tops'l tye as well. I'm going to send up the yard at once!"

"Ay, ay, sir."

Promptitude begets like promptness.

Before you could say "Jack Robinson," the whip was down and the purchase in the top; then, the standing part of the tackle was made fast to the yard pendant and the spar swayed up, as the men walked away with the fall, which was rove through a snatchblock hooked on to a ringbolt fixed in the deck and led to the capstan.

Ere a quarter-of-an-hour had elapsed, the yard was slung and firmly secured, with the halliards and braces rigged in proper fashion.

In the middle of the operation, however, the attention of the hard-worked commander was called in another direction.

A fat, heavy, seafaring-looking man in a short pilot jacket came up to him as he was uttering rapid commands to the sailors aloft in stentorian accents from the poop-rail.

"Beg pardon, sir," said this gentleman, whom I presently learnt was Mr Quadrant, the master, or navigating officer of the ship; one who used in the old days to have charge of all the material on board a man-of-war, just as the commander looks after the crew. "None of those stores, sir, have come off from the dockyard that were promised this morning, and all my hands are idle below. What am I to do, sir?"

"Send a boat at once to the storekeeper, to lodge a complaint."

"Yes, sir. But, there's only the jollyboat left, sir, now, besides the dinghy. All the others are ashore."

"Well, send the jollyboat; and, I say, Mr Quadrant," added Commander Nesbitt as the master was waddling off down the companionway, "tell the midshipman who goes with the boat that if the things are not sent aboard at once, he is to make application at the Admiral's office, complaining of the delay. P'raps, though, you'd better go yourself, eh?"

"I will if you like, sir," sighed the master, who had already had too much exercise between decks and up and down the hatchways to feel enamoured of a walk ashore over the rough cobblestones of the dockyard. "But, I don't think they'll hurry any the more for me than they would for a middy, sir. He would be able, too, sir, to cheek the yard people all the better, sir."

"Just as you please, Mr Quadrant," returned the commander in a decided tone. "I should prefer, however, your going yourself to sending any other officer." This was equivalent to an order; and the master with a deep groan disappeared, only to make room for Mr Nipper, the purser.

This gentleman came across the gangway from the hulk—on board of which we were all berthed while our own ship was fitting out. He seemed in a great heat, as if something had put him out very much indeed, looking worried beyond endurance.

"Captain Nesbitt, sir," said he to the commander, touching his cap like the others, "what am I to do, sir?"

"I'm sure I can't say, Mr Nipper," rejoined the commander in an off-hand way, for he had just given the order to sway the yard aloft, and was watching whether the spar cleared the top and keeping a wary eye that it did not get foul of the mainstay, or something else aloft. "What's the matter?"

"Those people at the victualling yard haven't sent our fresh beef yet aboard, sir," answered the purser, a thin, fussy little man, in a whining way, as if he were going to cry, "and there's nothing to serve out for the men's dinners—at least, not enough for all."

"That's too bad!" cried the commander, indignantly; "why did you not tell me of this before?"

"I was expecting the boat would come with the meat every minute, sir."

"Is there no beef at all on board?"

"Only the wardroom and gunroom supply."

"Then serve that out at once to the men—they sha'n't go without their dinner if I can help it."

"But, sir, what will the officers do?"

"Ah, you must settle that as best as you can with the wardroom steward, sir! Let this, Mr Nipper, be a lesson to you in future not to put off things until the last moment! You may take the dinghy, if you like, by-and-by and go to Clarence yard yourself, to see what can be done for getting some more beef for the wardroom and gunroom mess; but, I cannot spare another officer or man. We're much too short-handed already!"

This was true enough, for we had only about a couple of hundred men of our crew, including the seamen, gunners and petty officers, as yet aboard.

In those days only the marines and boys were drafted to ships when first commissioned, the compliment having to be made up as hands volunteered to join in response to the bills inviting enrolment that were stuck up in some selected public-house or tavern ashore, which, as the master-at-arms told me, was called the "Randy-woo!"

The continuous service system now in vogue was not adopted until within a comparatively recent period, say some thirty years ago at the outside; prior to this all bluejackets on their discharge from a ship when she was paid off, instead of being merely granted leave according to the present custom, became absolutely free men and having the right to quit the service, if they so wished, for good and all.

Although, should they change their minds after their money was all spent and come forward to join another ship about to be commissioned, the different periods they might have previously served afloat counted towards the time required to qualify them for a pension.

When, therefore, the Candahar was ordered to hoist the pennant and her captain and other officers appointed, she only received a certain percentage of trained gunnery hands from the Excellent, with a few boys and marines.

She had to go into the open market, as it were, for the rest of her crew, like any ordinary ship about to sail on a trading voyage.

Such being the case, following the usual practice at the time, the "Earl Saint Vincent," a tavern on Common Hard, was chosen for our rallying-place, or rendezvous.

A large broadsheet was exposed in the window of this tavern inviting able-bodied seamen and artificers to join the battleship; one of our lieutenants attending each day for a certain number of hours at the little shipping office which was established in the bar parlour of the tavern to inspect the discharge notices and certificates of any sailors or landsmen who might wish to join.

The officer relegated to this duty took care to satisfy himself that any candidates he selected should pass muster with the commander before sending them on board.

He knew well enough that if the men had previously served in the navy and their characters were marked "very good," or even "good," there was little doubt of their acceptance.

Up to the date of my going on board the ship, though, our recruiting agency had not been very successful.

Not half our required number of men, had, indeed, as yet volunteered for the Candahar; for, most of the old hands worth their salt fought shy of the station she was reported to be going to, on account less of its unhealthiness, which to Jack is of small account, than to the absence of any prize-money or extra pay, such as might be gained even on the deadly West Coast, with its malarial fever and pestiferous mangrove swamps that form the white man's grave.

But, all of a sudden, public opinion, so far as the sailor world was concerned, veered round in our favour.

It had leaked out that there was a prospect of our having a scrimmage with the mandarins.

In this case, of course, there would be dollars and other sorts of "loot" knocking about.

So, that very day, volunteers began to come off to the ship; not by threes and fours as they had done before, but by twenties and more at a stretch.

Of these the launch brought off a large cargo alongside immediately after the commander's interview with the purser; and I thus had the opportunity of seeing how the men were scrutinised and sorted for the "watch bill," which the chief of our executive made out himself—as indeed he seemed to do everything, looking after everybody else all the while.

The coxswain of the launch, with a touch of his forelock, handed over the discharge notes and certificates of such of the motley group that came up the side that had these documents, which the second lieutenant, a knowing fellow, who was in charge of our shipping office that morning, had pocketed when he engaged the men; doing this as a sort of preventative to their backing out of the bargain afterwards.

These greasy papers, which he did not open, were then passed on to the midshipman on duty on the quarter-deck, with orders to take them to the purser's office; and the commander then proceeded to muster the lot abaft the mainmast bitts.

"What were you aboard your last ship?" asked he of a smart-looking seaman on the right of the line as they stood across the deck facing him, who appeared neater and nattier than the rest. "What rating did you take up?"

"Cap'en of the foretop, sir."

"All right, you're the very man I want!" said the commander. "You may go and do the duty, and if you are diligent and active you shall have the rate."

The next chap stated he had been an able seamen in his previous ship, so he was sent on to the forecastle to add to the long roll already there.

So was another and another, till Commander Nesbitt lighted on a man who said he had been a shipwright in the dockyard, whom he marked down to join the carpenter's crew.

Several ordinary seamen followed, until the fag end of the lot was reached, consisting of a number of greenhorns who had never been to sea previously; and these, on declaring their willingness to serve Her Gracious Majesty, were sent down into the steerage to join the after-guard.

"What are you?" inquired the commander of a sooty sort of gentleman, who, with another more morose personage, stood at the extreme rear of this group. "I mean, what did you do ashore for a livelihood, my man?"

"Wot hev h'I been a-doin' of fur a lively-hood, sir?" repeated the sooty gentleman, who evidently was a wag, speaking, albeit with a comical expression on his countenance, with a native dignity that would have won the praise of Lord Chesterfield. "W'y, sir, h'I'm a 'h'upright,' sir, that's wot h'I h'am!"

"An 'upright'!" exclaimed Commander Nesbitt, with a smile. "I've heard of wheelwrights, and millwrights and shipwrights, of course, but never of such a calling as an 'upright'—what's that, eh?"

"I thought as 'ow I'd puzzle you, sir," replied the man with a grin. "I'm a chimbly-sweeper by trade."

"Oh, a chimney-sweeper? Then you ought to be good at climbing, and I cannot do better than send you aloft. You can go forrud now."

Saying this, the commander turned to the last man the morose one, questioning him in like fashion.

"And what have you been?"

"I'm a 'downright,' sir," said he, as grave as a judge. "Wot they calls a 'downright,' sir."

"Now, don't you try on any of your jokes with me, my man, or you'll find yourself in the wrong box, which is the strong box on board ship, and vulgarly called chokey!"

"I ain't a-joking," replied the other, speaking as gravely as before and without even the shadow of a smile on his face. "I'm a 'downright,' that's what I am."

"Pray, what profession is that," asked the commander, sarcastically. "I would not like to hurt your feelings by calling your avocation a trade!"

"You're right, sir," returned the other, as calmly as possible, without turning a hair; "I'm a gravedigger."

This fairly made the commander collapse.

"You may muster with the after-guard," was the only reply he made, but we all could see that he had hard work to keep his gravity, as he turned towards the boatswain's mate and ordered him to pipe the men to dinner in a sharp tone; and he said to Mr Cheffinch, the gunnery lieutenant, when he crossed over the deck to go on board the old Blake to lunch, "He had me nicely there, like that other joker the chimney-sweeper. It must have been a planned thing between the two rascals!"



CHAPTER SEVEN.

WE GO OUT TO SPITHEAD.

Passing across the gangway with Commander Nesbitt to the hulk, which served as a sort of floating hotel for all of us while the Candahar was preparing for sea, officers and men alike sleeping and messing in her and only going on board our own ship during working hours between meals, as long as daylight lasted, I found Dr Nettleby, the chief of our medical staff, with one of his assistants, busily engaged in the sick bay on the main deck.

They were examining all the new hands who had just joined, to see whether any of them were suffering from organic disease, or some other physical infirmity that might incapacitate them for service afloat, none but the able-bodied being accepted.

The curtained door of the sick bay being open and the cabin itself close to the main hatchway, which I had necessarily to pass in going below to the gunroom, I could not help overhearing something of what was proceeding in the medical sanctum, the more especially from the fact of Dr Nettleby, the presiding genius, having a short temper and a snappy manner of expressing himself peculiarly his own.

He was a good-hearted man at the bottom, however, and as tender as a woman in cases of real suffering; though woe to the malingerer or shammer of illness who incautiously ventured within reach of his caustic tongue!

A couple of the cadets who had come on board with me that morning were standing by the doorway of the sick bay, in company with one of the older midshipmen and some others; and, seeing these all grinning, as if enjoying themselves mightily at what was going on within, I joined the group—the lot of us sheltering ourselves from observation behind a tall canvas screen that was rigged across the deck amidships, shutting out the draught from the port-holes fore and aft, besides serving also as an ante-room to the doctor's cabin and surgery. From this inner apartment would emerge ever and anon some culprit marine or shamefaced seaman, trying to walk steady, who, having perhaps been a trifle too jolly overnight and pleading indisposition as an excuse for his inability to attend to his duties, had been brought before the doctor for treatment— only, alas! to receive a dose of pungent satire, in lieu of the soothing medicine they craved to banish the effects of their drunken spree. Meanwhile, the new hands who were awaiting their medical examination were drawn up on the other side of the gangway, "marking time" until these regular, or rather irregular, patients were disposed of in turn, no doubt enjoying the fun like ourselves.

"Listen," whispered Larkyns, the senior midshipman, nudging the fellow next him and winking to me as I came up. "That's Macan, our corporal of marines, who's getting it now. By Jove, the doctor is giving it him hot!"

He certainly was, judging from what reached my ears, at least.

"Stuff and nonsense, corporal!" I heard Dr Nettleby rasp out snappishly, his voice sounding from within the cabin just like a terrier dog barking, for I could hear him plainly enough. "You can't gammon me, my man, though you might take in the first lieutenant! It's 'rumatism,' not rheumatism you're suffering from, you scoundrel! You've been drinking, that's what's the matter with you; and if I report you to the cap'en, as I ought, you'll not only lose your stripes before sunset, but get four dozen as well, and serve you right, too!"

"Faith, yer honour, I haven't tasted a dhrop of anythin' barrin' tay since yesterday noon at Eight Bells. May I die this minnit if I have, sor," boldly asserted the accused in a rich Irish brogue that was as distinct as the doctor's voice. "It's the rheumaticks, sure! I've got 'em in the legs bad this toime and can't hould mesilf up at all, nor walk more than a choild!"

"Macgilpin, just diagnose this case for me," cried the doctor to his assistant. "What does he smell of?"

"Whuskey," replied the assistant-surgeon, a rawboned expert from Edinburgh, who had only recently donned Her Majesty's uniform and brought his north-country accent with him when he came southwards. "There's nae doot aboot that. He smells o' whuskey, and bad whuskey, tae!"

"Begorrah, yer nose is wrong, sor, and the doctor's roight, as he always is, sor, beggin' yer pardon," said the culprit, confessing his offence in his anxiety to stand up for the medical insight of the chief, with whom he had served before and whose professional pride he knew how to work upon. "It was rhum, sure enough."

"You rascal!" shouted out Dr Nettleby. "Why, not a moment ago you swore you hadn't tasted a drop of anything but tea alone since yesterday."

"Faith, yer honner, I didn't know it wor rhum till too late, sor. I sware, sor, I droonk it out av a taypot."

"Out of a teapot, man?"

"Yis, sor, I'll till yer honner how it wor, sure," explained the wily fellow, who could tell from the doctor's change of tone that his offence was condoned and that he need fear no worse consequences now than one of his usual lectures, which only went in at one ear and out at the other, as Dr Nettleby himself said. "I wint over to the rendywoo last noight be the cap'en's orders, sor, fur to say if there wor any more hands awaitin' to jine. Faith an' there I mates me wife's first cousin, Bridget O'Halloran, as is merried now be the same token to Sargint Lintstock."

"Sergeant Lintstock?"

"Ay, sor, that same, which makes him, sure, me second cousin once removed, though, faith, he's me soupayrior orfiser! But, as I were a-tellin' ye, sor, in comes Bridget whilst I were talkin' to the jintleman behoind the bar at the rendywoo. I were jist axin' what the cap'en tells me to axe him; an' 'Mike,' says she, cordial like, 'have a partin' glass wid me fur the sake of the ould country as ye're abut to lave.'

"'Faith an' that's more nor I dare, Bridget,' says I. 'I promist the docthor, sure, I wouldn't touch another dhrop o' sperrits for the nixt four-an'-twenty hours, as I'm a livin' sinner!'

"'But I don't want ye to dhrink sperrits,' says she. 'Me an' me frind Mistress Wilkins here is jist havin' a cup of tay, sure; an' axes ye to jine us, that's all!'

"'Faith I'm not the bhoy fur to disobleege the ladies,' says I, 'ye can give us a cup, if that's all ye wants me fur to do.' Wid that, Bridget ups with the taypot, a little brown one it wor, sure, by the same token, an' pours me out a cupful in a mug that lay handy sure on the counther, which I drinks to the hilth of her an' Missis Wilkins as wor standin' by. It wor right-down beautiful tay; so I has another one to the hilth of Bridget's husband the sarjint, an' thin another, that wor a little one faith! to the hilth of the babby; an', begorrah, sor, I rimimbers no more till this mornin' whin I fales so bad wid the rheumatics as I couldn't lift me hid out of me hammock. The sarjint says I wor droonk, but I worn't, sor; though somehows or t'other I thinks it must have been rhum I wor drinkin' at the rendywoo an' not tay as Bridget telled me at the toime, sayin' it wor good fur the stummick an' wud kape the cowld out!"

"I don't believe a word of your story," I heard the doctor answer to this long and circumstantial yarn. "Why, Macan, you're drunk now!"

"Me droonk now, sor?" repeated the other in a tone of mingled sorrow and solemnity. "Faith I'm as sobher as a jidge this very minnit, as I'm a livin' sinner!"

"Don't tell me any more of your lies!" cried out the doctor irascibly at this juncture, interrupting what further asservation the corporal might have made in support of his unblushing assertion. "You can go forrud now and thank your stars I don't report you, as I had more than half a mind to at first. If I did, you'd be put into the black list and lose your stripes to a dead certainty."

"May the saints presarve yer honner," exclaimed Macan with effusion as he was thus dismissed, but he was still not satisfied apparently at his word being doubted; for, as he passed us, working his way forward by a series of short tacks, he kept on muttering half aloud, much to our amusement, "It's all through that blissid Scotch sawbones wid his long 'dog nose' as he calls it, sayin' it wor whisky. I'm as shober as a jidge, faith—as shober as a jidge!"

No more unfortunate circumstance, however, could have occurred for the corporal of marines, in spite of the doctor having let him off so easily, for, through our overhearing this dialogue between the two, the yarn he had told of meeting his "cousin Bridget" soon got round the ship, and the men could always put him in a rage whenever they liked by an allusion to the "taypot" and his cousin's friend "Missis Wilkins."

We stopped a little longer listening outside the sick bay, but soon gave up the pastime, nothing occurring to interest us during the medical examination of the new hands, a fresh batch of whom came aft, by the way, at Four Bells; for all of them were quickly passed by the doctor and were detailed for duty aloft and below, where many jobs were at a standstill for want of men.

This enabled the commander to press on with the work of rigging the ship, the crossjack, or "crochet" yard being sent up by the aid of the mizzen burton hooked on in front of the top; after which the jack was slung and the trusses fixed on, the spar brought home to the mast, the lifts and braces having been fitted before swaying, as is the case with all the lower yards in men-of-war.

The mizzen-trysail mast, on which the spanker is set, was also got up by means of the same tackle; and, what with hoisting in some of the main deck guns and sails and other gear, the afternoon quickly passed.

I was not sorry when dinner-time came, Five Bells in the first dog watch, for I was pretty well tired to death with this, my first day's experience on board the Candahar, in running up and down the decks fore and aft as Commander Nesbitt's special messenger. It was, however, a very good introduction to the life I should have to lead for the next few years of my career; for, as a junior officer, I would be at the beck and call of everyone on the quarter-deck and "hardly able to call my soul my own,"—as Dad had more than once warned me beforehand.

Still, I must say, notwithstanding certain drawbacks, which subsequent experience brought to light in due course, I liked it all, taking the rough side of sea life with the smooth, and would not change my lot if I had the opportunity of making my choice over again, even knowing what I do now of the service!

My captain I had not as yet seen much of; for, although he came off every day to sign papers and receive reports, as well as see how things were going on generally, he lived on shore and did not interfere at all with Commander Nesbitt, who carried on the work as he pleased.

The latter being a good officer, who thoroughly knew his duty and a sailor every inch of him, as I have already described, Captain Farmer, as he probably well understood, could not have done better than thus leave matters to his second in command while the ship was in harbour.

The Honourable Digby Lanyard, our first lieutenant, was a tall supercilious young man of five-and-twenty or so who wore an eyeglass.

This was more for effect than from any defect of vision, for he was as sharp as a needle; and could see a bit of spunyarn adrift or a rope out of place aloft even quicker than the commander, keen-sighted as he was.

Amongst the men on the lower deck, who have, as a rule, some pet nickname for most of their officers, especially those whom they may chance to like or dislike more than the rest, he always went by the sobriquet of "glass-eye"; and it was wonderful how this dandy chap who was so particular in his dress and would mince his words in conversation with his brother officers in the wardroom, speaking with a lisp of affectation and a languid air as if it were too much trouble to articulate distinctly, would, when the occasion arose, roar out his orders in a voice that could be heard from one end of the ship to the other and make the men skip about, like the young lambs mentioned by the Psalmist!

As for us youngsters, we dreaded his icy contemptuous stare and his "haw-haw" manner more than anything.

He seemed to have the power of freezing us with a look should he ever condescend to notice us at all; but this, fortunately, was very seldom, the lieutenant being wont to ignore our existence except when he had reason to call us to account for some neglect of duty, at which times we disliked more his disdainful glance, accompanied, as it invariably was, by some cold sarcastic allusion to our shortcomings, than the bullying and bad language of some of the other officers who were not so refined.

Such at all events was the opinion Dick Andrews and Teddy Allison and the other cadets had of him, as well as myself; though Fred Larkyns, the big senior midshipman, who patronised us and whom we all liked, he was such a jolly fellow and up to all sorts of fun, said we would find "glass-eye" not half a bad chap "when we came to know him better."

Subsequent events will tell how far Mr Larkyns proved to be right in this conclusion of his; albeit, we demurred to it at the time that he propounded it in his dogmatic way, rapping poor little Teddy Allison on the head with a parallel ruler, which he held in his hand at the moment, for daring to dispute his oracular assertion on the point and making us all laugh by a capital imitation of the haughty airs of our pet aversion and his cynical mode of speech, while in the same breath he took his part, generous lad that he was!

We were all too busy, however, to notice the various peculiarities and characteristics of our messmates beyond such as we were brought more immediately in contact with.

Indeed, we had not time even to settle down on board and know each other properly; for each day added to our company, increasing the number of strange faces around us, so that I began to wonder when we would at length get our requisite complement and finish our apparently endless task of fitting out.

"It is a long lane that has no turning," though, as the old adage goes; and so, after three weeks more of enrolling volunteers at Corporal Macan's favourite "rendywoo," and the hoisting in of many guns and boats and stores and provisions of all sorts, until the Candahar, I thought, would never contain them all, we finally bent our sails, crossed royal yards and were declared "ready for sea."

Captain Farmer came on board with "all his bag and baggage" on our ship's company "turning over" from the old hulk Blake, to which we all bade a long and welcome adieu, all hands being then mustered by divisions to beat of drum along the upper and lower decks.

We were eight hundred strong, all told; officers and men; bluejackets of all ratings, and marines; boys and "idlers," as some of the hardest-worked fellows aboard are somewhat inappropriately designated in the watch bill, according to nautical etiquette; as motley a collection at the first start, and yet as fine a set of fellows as you could pick out in a year's cruise!

These preliminaries being all arranged, we cast off from the hulk late one November afternoon; and, the dockyard tug Puffing Billy taking us in tow, proceeded to Spithead, where we anchored in eleven fathoms, letting out some six shackles of cable, so that we could swing comfortably with the tide as it flowed in and out of the roadstead.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

A LITTLE SURPRISE.

"I suppose," said I, after we had cast anchor, to Larkyns, who had kindly noticed me the first day I came aboard and had been very friendly with me since, patronising me in the way the elder boys of the sixth form sometimes do the younger fellows at school, "we'll sail to-morrow, eh?"

"Sail to-morrow? Your grandmother!" he answered with his usual grin. I believe that chap would have grinned if you had told him his father was dead, for he looked on everything from a humorous point of view and could not help laughing even when the captain spoke to him, which often got him in for an extra mast-heading. "Why, we haven't got in our lower deck guns yet, booby, let alone our powder and ammunition; besides all sorts of stores we could not ship in harbour!"

"Oh!" I exclaimed, somewhat crestfallen at his "snub", "I didn't think of that."

"I suppose not," replied he, mimicking me, "but you have a good deal to learn yet, let me tell you. Hullo, though, Master Squaretoes, what do you mean by coming on the quarter-deck with nails in your boots? You'll have the first lieutenant after you, my joker, if he notices it, and there'll be the dickens to pay, I can tell you!"

"What do you mean?" I retorted indignantly. "I have not got any nails in my boots at all."

"Haven't you, young shaver?" said he, grinning again and looking down with mock pity at the pumps I wore, which were guiltless of even the smallest tack, being all sewn, as I held up the soles for his inspection. "Then, all I can say is I'm sorry for you! I really didn't think you were deformed—and such a young and promising chap, too!"

I got alarmed at this.

"Deformed!" I repeated. "What do you mean?"

"Why, if you haven't any nails in your boots, or shoes—it doesn't matter which, but we'll say boots for argument's sake," said my tormentor quizzingly—"it follows, naturally and logically, that you have none on your toes! In which case, my poor young friend, you must be suffering from a malformation of the feet; or, in other words, you are deformed, according to Euclid, quid demonstrandum est, twiggy vous?"

"Oh, yes, I see," said I, feeling rather nettled, I confess, at his thus taking a rise out of me. "You think that funny, I suppose; but, I call it both silly and vulgar!"

"'Silly!' 'vulgar!' You very small fragment of impudence," rejoined Larkyns, highly delighted at being thus successful in "pulling my leg" and making me angry, "I'll have you keel-hauled for speaking so disrespectfully to your superior officer, sir. Beg my pardon instantly, or—"

What he would have done, however, in case of my non-compliance with his imperative request remains a mystery to the present day; for, as at that moment, the commander, who had been surveying the maintop from the poop-rail above us, hearing my funny gentleman's voice, which he had raised in speaking to me, called out to him—

"Below there," he cried—"Mr Larkyns!"

"Yes, sir," answered my "superior officer" humbly enough, touching his cap and looking up at Commander Nesbitt. "Want me, sir?"

"Yes," said the other, "There's something wrong with the bunt of that tops'l, I think. It does not appear to me quite ship-shape somehow or other, Mr Larkyns. Go up to the maintop and see what's the matter with it at once."

"Ay, ay, sir," replied my tormentor, springing nimbly into the rigging and shinning up the ratlines almost as soon as the words were out of the commander's mouth, "I'll see, sir."

I looked up at the moment, and, catching Commander Nesbitt's eye I'm sure he gave a sort of sly wink, the which impressed on my mind the conviction that he must have overheard our conversation and, wishing to give Master Larkyns some employment for his spare time, had sent him aloft on a wild-goose chase.

The topsail was stowed snugly enough, so, my friend the middy's missive was set-off to his chaff at my expense.

This conviction was confirmed when the commander immediately afterwards ordered me to go forwards and tell the boatswain to get the fish tackle clear for hoisting in the lower deck guns as soon as they came alongside next morning in the dockyard lighters.

The old Candahar, you must know, although she was described in the "Navy List" of that day as a "two-decker," had really four decks—the upper deck, main deck, lower deck and orlop deck.

The distinction of the designation lay in the fact that she carried guns on two decks besides her upper one, the armament of which, as well as that of her main deck had been got on board easily enough when she was in harbour; but, as she was then lashed alongside the hulk and the lower tier of guns had to be taken in through the ports, this operation could not be very well managed until her broadside was clear of the hull of the other ship, so that the cannon could be lifted out of the lighters and swung inboard, without any intervening obstacle blocking the way and possibly fouling the hoisting tackle and steadying gear, which was not the case until we reached Spithead.

Even then, it was no trifling task swaying the heavy guns out of the holds of the two lighters that brought them out to us early in the morning from the gun-wharf, one of these craft coming under our mainyard on either side; for, the guns were long thirty-two pounders, weighing fifty-six hundredweight, or nearly three tons apiece, and, even after they were hoisted up in mid air from the lighters they had then to be hauled through one of the midship ports, mounted on their carriages and run along the lower deck to their proper position, when the breechings and side tackle had to be fitted before the job was completed.

It was accomplished in good time, however, much to our commander's satisfaction; and, by the aid of the fish davit with its tackle and another purchase, it did not take more than a couple of hours to ship the whole thirty of these guns that comprised our lower deck armament.

What formidable weapons I thought them! But, they were only babies to the big rifled breechloaders now in vogue; albeit they did tidy enough work in the destructive line in their day, as the annals of our navy can tell, and other nations have experienced to their cost both on land and sea!

"Pretty little barkers, ain't they?" observed Mr Triggs, the gunner, noticing me looking at these "long thirty-twos," as they were styled, and wondering at the light and airy fashion in which the men handled them, tossing them about like shuttlecocks, so it seemed to me. "They can do more than bark; though, they can bite too, I tell ye!"

"Oh, yes, I quite believe that, Mr Triggs," said I, taking advantage of the opportunity of giving a "snop" to Larkyns, who was also standing by and, of course, grinning as usual. "Not all smoke and noise, like some fellows' talk."

"No, that they ain't, except, in course, when saluting," replied the gunner, who was a plain matter-of-fact man and did not see the drift of my observation. "But, with a ten-pound charge, now, they'd make a pretty fair hole in a six-inch plank, I tell ye."

"How many of them, Mr Triggs," I asked, "have we got on board?"

"Of these long 'uns?" he said, patting one affectionately on the breech as he spoke. "Well, we've jist fifteen here a-port and fifteen a-starboard, which makes thirty in all on this deck. A power o' metal, I tell ye!"

"Oh, I know that," said I. "But I mean how many of the same sort."

"There ain't any more of the same sort, I tell ye, but what you sees," rejoined the gunner a bit crossly. "The guns as is on the main deck and upper deck are all short thirty-two's; and, they're thirty too, o' them on the main, and twenty-two on the upper deck. They all of 'em carries the same weight of shot, though not such heavy guns as these, being only forty-five hundredweight each."

"There, young Vernon, you can put that in your pipe and smoke it!" chimed in Larkyns, at this juncture, making a face behind the gunner's back, which, had he seen it, might have altered the opinion that worthy presently expressed of the speaker. "That's 'the long and the short of it,' as Mr Triggs has so eloquently explained!"

"Thank you, Mr Larkyns, for the compliment," said the gunner, taking the remark as a tribute to his conversational ability. "I allers tries to explain myself as well as I can. Is there anything more you'd like to know, Master Vernon? I'm allers pleased to instruct any of you young gentlemen when you asks civilly!"

"You spoke just now of a ten-pound charge," I answered. "I suppose you mean of powder without the shot?"

"That's not charged," put in Larkyns, grinning. "The shot is given in 'free, gratis, for nothing,' as Paddy said."

"Yes, Master Vernon," replied the gunner, taking no notice this time of Larkyns or his interpolation. "These here guns take a full charge of ten pounds of powder for long range, and redooced charges of six and eight pounds; whilst the charges of them on the main and upper deck are either six or eight pounds, as the case might be, according to the service required."

"It must take an awful lot of powder for all the eighty-four guns, besides the shot and shell!"

"You can bet on that," replied Mr Triggs, moving towards the side and looking through the port in the direction of the harbour. "We carries about a hundred rounds of each charge for every gun; or, something like ninety tons for our whole armament. That's what it takes."

"Ninety tons of gunpowder!" I exclaimed in astonishment. "Do you mean that we've got to take such a quantity as that on board?"

"Of course I do; I always says what I means and means what I says," rejoined Mr Triggs, somewhat snappishly again, as if tired of the long string of puzzling questions with which I was now bothering him, like I used to do my dear old Dad. "By Jingo! I'm blessed if there it ain't a-coming off now, I tell ye!"

"Coming off," I repeated. "Where?"

"There, booby," said Larkyns, slewing me round and shoving my head right out of the port.

"Can't you see the powder hoy, there to your right, passing Blockhouse Fort, at the mouth of the harbour?"

"That one flying the red flag, eh?"

"Yes, my dear Squaretoes; but we don't call a burgee a flag aboard ships."

"I wish you would not call me Squaretoes, Larkyns," said I, peevishly, for he hurt me, squeezing my neck in his tight grip, holding me out of the port as if I were a kitten, so that I could not turn my head round. "I hate nicknames. Do leave me alone, please!"

"Ah, would you, now!" he exclaimed in reply, as I tried to wrench myself free. "Don't cry, my little pet, you haven't got your mammy here to mollycoddle you!"

"Let me go, Larkyns, you're choking me," I gasped out, wriggling violently and kicking out behind. "I'll hurt you if you don't loose me; I will, indeed!"

He wouldn't release me yet, however, seeing I was out of temper; and, some of the other middies not on duty gathering round, it being their watch below, egged Larkyns on, suggesting that as I seemed to think myself such a "big gun," I ought to be sponged and loaded and run out.

This humorous advice was immediately acted upon, a couple of the gang laying hold of my legs in spite of my kicks, while another assisted Larkyns, my tormenter; and the mischievous lot swung me backwards and forwards in and out of the port, until nearly all my clothes were pulled off my back and I hadn't a sound button left to my jacket.

I felt hot all over; and was in a fine rage, "I tell you," as the gunner used to say.

Mr Triggs, meanwhile, had gone up the hatchway to see about getting on board his ammunition, the vermilion-painted powder hoys I had observed in the distance at the mouth of the harbour being now nearly alongside the ship; and, all of a sudden, as my reckless shipmates were pulling me almost to pieces between them in their mad prank, there came a cry from the deck above, "Stand clear, below there!"

At the same instant, a coil of rope whizzed by the port-hole out of which my body projected, the bight of it narrowly escaping my head in its downward descent, wetting my face with the spray it threw up as it splashed into the water right under me.

I could not restrain a shriek of alarm; and, wriggling more violently than before in the hands of those holding me as I tried to release myself, I managed somehow or other to jerk away from their grasp, sending them all sprawling backward on the deck inboard, while I shot out of the port like a catapult, tumbling headlong into the sea as if taking a header after the rope!



CHAPTER NINE.

MY DIP GAINS ME A DINNER.

Fortunately, though, as I fell, my outstretched hands, clutching wildly in the air, came in contact with the identical rope whose sudden descent from the gangway above had been the unwitting cause of the disaster, the tail end of the "whip" Mr Triggs had ordered to be rigged up from the lee yardarm, in readiness to hoist in the powder when the hoy bringing the same was made fast alongside.

This naturally yielded to my weight as I clung to it, on account of the other end, which passed through a block fastened to the yard, not being secured.

However, it let me down easy into the water, my unexpected immersion making no noise to speak of and hardly causing a ripple on the surface of the tide as it gurgled past the ship's counter and eddied away in ripples under her stem.

Not a soul on board, indeed, knew of my mishap save those merry messmates of mine, all of whom doubtless, I thought, as soon as I regained my composure after the fright and knew that I was comparatively safe, would be in a great funk, fearing the worst had happened.

Glancing upward, my head being just clear of the water, which I trod to keep myself in an erect position, holding on, though, all the while, "like grim death," to the rope, of which I had taken a turn round my wrist, I saw Larkyns, the ringleader of the frolic, leaning out over the port sill as pale as a ghost.

He was looking downwards, in every direction but the right one, seeking vainly to discover me; and he evidently dreaded that I was drowned, his face being the picture of misery and despair.

"Hist, old chap, don't call out," I whispered in a low voice, as he was about to give up the search and rouse the ship. "I'm all right, my boy."

"My goodness Vernon, is that you? I thought you were lost, old chap," he hailed back in the same key, the expression of his face changing instantly to one of heartfelt relief. "Thank God you're not drowned! But, where are you, old fellow; I can't see you?"

"Right under your very nose, you blind old mole! I am bent on to a bight of the whip falls," I answered, with a chuckle. "Keep the other end of the rope taut, old chap, and I'll be able to climb up back into the port without anybody being the wiser but ourselves, my hearty, and so we'll all escape going into the report."

He grasped the situation in an instant; and, likewise, saw the advisability of keeping the matter quiet now that I was not in any imminent peril.

Master Larkyns knew as well as myself that if the tragic result of their skylarking should get wind and reach the ears of Captain Farmer, he and his brother mids would have a rough time of it, and probably all be had up on the quarter-deck.

"All serene, Vernon, I under-constubble," he softly whispered back to me, in our gunroom slang. "Do you think you can manage to climb up by yourself, or shall I come down and help you?"

"Fiddlesticks, you duffer! I can get up right enough on my own cheek," I said with a titter, though my mouth was full of the brackish water into which I had plunged at first head and ears over, while my teeth were chattering with cold, the frosty November air being chilly. "I shall fancy I'm climbing the greasy pole at a regatta and that you're the pig on the top, old fellow. How's that, umpire, for your 'Squaretoes,' eh?"

"Ah, pax! You're a trump, Jack Vernon, and I promise never to call you by that name any more as it annoys you," he replied, chuckling at my joke, though it was at his own expense. He then leant out of the port further so as to get a tight grip of the whip fall, the other fellows holding on to him in turn to prevent his toppling over and joining me below, singing out as soon as their preparations were completed, calling out to me, "Are you ready?"

"Ready?" I repeated, quoting my favourite Napierian motto again. "Ay ready!"

"Then, up you come, my joker! Put your feet in the bight and hold on to the slack of the rope above your head and we'll hoist you up in regular man-of-war fashion. Now, my lads, pull baker, pull devil!"

He spoke under his breath; and yet, I heard every word he said, not only to me, but to the others inboard, grouped behind him within the port.

Quick as lightning I followed out his directions, clinging to the lower end of the rope like an eel; and, as soon as I gave the word, Larkyns and the rest of the mids clapping on to the running part of the whip falls, which ran through the block above, hoisted me up in a twinkling, as if I were a sack of flour, to the level of the port sill.

Once there, I was clutched by a dozen eager hands, and my whilom tormenters dragged me in, all dripping, and landed me on the deck beside them—"very like a fish," according to the old adage; and bearing just then the most unmistakable evidence of having come "out of water!"

After thus "landing me," the ends of the whip tackle were dropped again over the side in the same stealthy manner in which my rescue was effected, and as promptly.

My frolicsome friends were not an instant too soon; for, even while they were congratulating me all round, and declaring I was the best of good fellows for behaving so bravely and not "kicking up a row," though I had gone overboard so suddenly, the big, broad-beamed powder hoy slewed up alongside and Mr Triggs bustled down the hatchway.

Immediately after him came Mr Cheffinch, our gunnery lieutenant, accompanied by a strong working party to ensure the rapid transhipment of the combustible material and its storage in the magazines; and we could hear the boatswain piping all hands on the upper deck to man the whip falls of the hoists and lowering tackle.

I at once rushed away to my chest in the steerage, to change my wet clothes, hoping to return as quickly as I could to see what was going on, without my plight being seen or anyone knowing what had happened to get me into such a drenched condition; but, unfortunately, Corporal Macan caught sight of me as I was struggling to open my chest, for my fingers were so numbed with the cold that the keys I held in my hand jingled like castanets.

"Begorrah an' it's a purty state ye're in, sor," he said, eyeing me with much commiseration. "Sure an' ye've got the aguey."

"Nonsense, Macan," I answered shortly, wishing to shut him up at once, for he was Dr Nettleby's factotum and if he got hold of the story it would soon be all over the ship. "I've only been splashed with some water and want to shift my rig, that's all."

"Sphlashed is it, sor?" he repeated with a broad grin that completely shut out the rest of his face. "Faith, if ye was to axe me I'd tell ye, begorrah, ye looks loike a drowned rat, sor!"

"None of your impudence, corporal," I said with dignity, not liking his easy familiarity; though, poor fellow, he did not mean any harm by it, as it was only his Irish way of speaking; "I'll report you to the sergeant."

"An' is it rayporting me, sor, you'd be afther, an' you thremblin' all over," he rejoined, catching hold of me and helping to peel off my soaking garments. "Faith, sor, I'll be afther rayportin' you to the docthor!"

"Hi, hullo, who's taking my name in vain?" at that moment exclaimed Dr Nettleby himself, emerging from the gunroom at this critical juncture, the worthy medico having been making his rounds, looking up some of those of his patients who were not actually on the sick list. "I'm sure I heard that Irish blackguard Macan's voice somewhere. Ah, it is you, corporal, as I thought! Hi, hullo, what's the matter, youngster?"

"I—I'm all right, sir," said I, trying to rise, but sinking back again on the lid of my chest, where I had been sitting down while the good-natured marine was endeavouring to pull off my wet boots. "It is nothing, sir."

"He's bin taking a dip in the say, sir, wid all his clothes on," explained Macan; "an' faith he's got a bit damp, sir."

"Damp, you call it, corporal? Why, he's dripping wet and chilled to the bone!" cried the doctor, feeling my pulse. "How did this come about, youngster?"

"It was an accident, sir," I replied hesitatingly, not wishing to incriminate my messmates. "I would rather not speak of it, doctor, if you'll excuse me."

"Oh, I see, skylarking, eh? Well, well, you must go to bed at once, or you'll be in a high fever before sundown. Corporal Macan!"

"Yis, sor."

"Take this young gentleman to the sick bay and put him into a clean cot with plenty of blankets round him. By the way, too, corporal, ask Dr McGilpin to let you have a stiff glass of hot grog."

"For mesilf, sor?"

"No, you rascal, confound your cheek! Certainly not," replied the doctor, amused by the question. "This young gentleman is to take it as hot as he can drink it. It will throw him into a perspiration and make him sleep. Do you hear, youngster?"

"Y-es, sir," I stammered out as well as I could, for my teeth were chattering again and I was shaking all over. "Bu-but I'd rather not go to the sick bay, sir, if you don't mind. I don't want anyone to hear of wha—what has hap-hap-happened."

"Ah, yes, I see," said Dr Nettleby. "You're afraid of some of your nice messmates getting hauled over the coals? I bet that madcap Larkyns is at the bottom of it; I saw him with you close to one of the ports just now, as I passed by on my way down here, and I wondered what mischief you were up to! Well, well, I respect you, my boy, for not telling tales out of school, as the old saying goes; so, I won't split on you. Carry the youngster to my cabin, Macan, and then nobody will know anything about the matter. See here, I will look after you myself, youngster and keep you a prisoner till you're all right again. What d'you think of that, now?"

"Th-a-nk you, doctor," said I, faintly, for I felt very weak and giddy, everything seeming to be whirling round me. "I'll—"

"Yes, yes, I know; all right, my boy, all right," interrupted the kind-hearted, old fellow, stopping any further attempt to speak on my part; and the brawny corporal of marines at the same instant lifting me up in his arms as if I were a baby, I lost consciousness, the last thing I recollect hearing being the doctor's voice, sounding, though, far away as if a mile off, like a voice in a dream, saying to me in the soft, purring tone he always adopted when in a specially good temper, "Here, drink this, my boy, and go to sleep!"

"Faith an' sure ye're awake at last!" exclaimed Corporal Macan when I opened my eyes, a minute or so after this, as I thought. "How d'ye fale now, sor?"

"Hullo!" said I, raising my head and looking round me in astonishment. "Where am I?"

"In Dr Nittleby's own cabin, sure," answered the Irishman, grinning; "an' by the same token, sor, as he wor called away by the cap'en, he lift me here for to say, he tould me, whither ye wor di'd or aloive, sure, whin ye woke up."

"I feel awfully hungry, Corporal Macan," said I, after a pause to reflect on the situation. "Have I been asleep long?"

"Ivver since Siven Bells, sure, in the forenoon watch, sor."

"And what's the time now?"

"Close on Four Bells in the first dog watch, sor."

"Good gracious me!" I exclaimed in consternation, tossing off a lot of blankets that lay on the top of me and jumping out of the big bunk that was like a sofa, where I had been sleeping, on to the deck of the cabin; when I found I was attired only in a long garment, which must have been one of the doctor's nightshirts, for it reached down considerably below my feet, tripping me up on my trying to walk towards the door. "Where are my clothes?"

"Here, sor," replied the corporal, equal to the occasion, taking up a bundle that was lying on one of the lockers and proceeding to spread out my uniform, jacket and trousers and other articles of wearing apparel seriatim, on the top of the bed-place; Macan smoothing down each with the palm of his hand as if he were grooming a horse. "I had 'em dried at the galley foire, sor, whilst ye wor a-slapin'."

"Thank you, corporal," I said, dressing as quickly as I could with his assistance; the marine, like most of his class, being a handy, useful fellow and not a bad valet on a pinch. "I must hurry up. I wonder if I can get any dinner in the gunroom."

"Faith ye're too late for that, sor," answered Macan with much concern. "An' for tay, too, sor, as will. It's all cleared away this hour an' more."

"Oh, dear, what shall I do?" I ejaculated as I dragged on my boots, which had not been improved by their dip in the sea and subsequent roasting on top of a hot iron stove, although I noticed they had been nicely polished by the corporal. "I feel hungry enough to 'eat a horse and chase the rider,' as I heard a fellow say the other day!"

"Ye must fale betther, sor, if you're hoongry," observed Macan on my completing my toilet and donning my cap again. "That's a raal good sign whin ye're inclined fur to ate—at laste that's what the docther sez."

"Providing you've got something to eat!" I rejoined ruefully, for I knew there wouldn't be much left if the gunroom fellows had cleared out. "What did Doctor Nettleby say was the matter with me, eh?"

"He s'id ye wor a comet, sor."

"A comet?" I repeated, laughing. "You're making a mistake, corporal."

"The divil a ha'porth, sor. He called ye that same."

"Nonsense, man!" I said. "The doctor made use of some medical term, probably, which you don't understand."

"Mebbe, sor, for I'm no scholard, worse luck!" replied the corporal, unconvinced. "The docther do sometime bring out one of them outlandish wurrds that nayther the divvil nor Father Murphy, more power to him! could make out at all at all; but, whin ye dhropped down this afthernoon on the dick alongside o' yer chist, an' I picked ye up, he says, sez he, ye was ayther a 'comet,' or in a 'comet house,' or somethin' loike that, I'll take me oath wid me dyin' breath, though what the divvil he manes, I'm sure I can't say, sor!"

"Oh, I see now!" I exclaimed, a light suddenly flashing on me as to his meaning. "I must have fainted away and the doctor told you I was in a comatose state, eh?"

"An' isn't that, sure, a comet, sor, as I tould ye!" cried the Irishman, triumphantly. "Hullo, here's Peters, the cap'en's stooard dodgin' about the gangway. I wondther what he's afther?"

I walked out of the cabin as he spoke, and the man he referred to came up to me at once.

"Beg pardon, sir," said he, civilly, touching his forelock in salute. "Mr Vernon, sir, I believe?"

"Yes," I replied, rather anxious to learn what was wanted of me, "that is my name."

"Cap'en Farmer presents his compliments, sir, and requests the pleasure of your company to dinner this evening."

"Give my compliments to the captain, and say that I shall be most happy to accept his kind invitation," I answered, putting on my most dignified manner, as if it was quite an everyday occurrence for me to be asked to dinner by officers of the highest rank; though, I felt inclined to jump with joy at the prospect, especially under the circumstances of my famished condition. "What time do you serve up dinner, steward?"

"We allers dines at Four Bells, sir," said he, with equal dignity, conscious of his position apparently as captain's steward, and at the same time not oblivious of the fact that I was only a naval cadet. "In ten minutes time, sir, dinner will be on the table."

"All right, my man, I'll be there," I replied in an off-hand way, as he went on towards the wardroom, opposite to where we were standing; and I added aside to the corporal, "I don't think there's any fear of my being late!"

"Faith, the divil doubt ye, sor," said Macan in reply to this, breaking into a broad grin as he set to work methodically to put the doctor's cabin straight again, while I turned to go below to my proper quarters, with the intention of making myself smart for the forthcoming feast. "Musha, I wudn't loike to be the dish foreninst ye, sor, if ye can ate a hoss, as ye s'id jist now!"

A few minutes later, attired in my best uniform, I was ushered by the marine sentry, who stood without the doorway, into the big after-cabin beneath the poop that served for Captain Farmer's reception-room.

This was a handsome apartment, hung round with pictures and decorated with choice hothouse flowers and evergreens, as unlike as possible anything one might expect to find on board ship.

The very gun-carriages on either side were concealed by drapery, as well as the windows at the further end which opened on to the stern gallery, that projected, like a balcony, over the shimmering sea beneath, whereon the lights from the ports played and danced on the rippling tide in a hundred broken reflections, the evening having closed in and it now being quite dark around.

I was received very kindly by Captain Farmer.

He was a short and rather stout man, so he looked uncommonly funny in his mess jacket, which, according to the custom of the service, was cut in the Eton fashion and gave him a striking resemblance to an over-grown schoolboy, as I thought; but, I soon forgot his appearance, his manner was so charming, while his anxiety to set me at my ease seemed as great as if I had been an admiral at the least, instead of being only little Jack Vernon, naval cadet!

The doctor was talking to him when I came in; and he spoke to me very cordially, too, feeling my pulse as he shook hands with me.

"Ha! No fear of your kicking the bucket yet, my little friend," he said in his dry way, as we all proceeded into the fore cabin, where dinner was laid, Captain Farmer leading the way as soon as his steward Peters intimated that everything was ready. "No cold or fever after your sudden chill, thanks to my prescription! But, I won't answer for consumption after your long fast. I can see from your eye, youngster, you'll have a bad attack of that presently, eh? Ho, ho, ho!"

Of course I grinned at this; and, I may state at once, that, by the time the repast was concluded, I had fully justified the doctor's sapient prediction, being blessed with the healthiest of appetites and a good digestion, which my temporary indisposition had in nowise impaired.

Mr Cheffinch, our gunnery lieutenant, who was one of the other guests, sat beside me, and from a remark or two he made I discovered that not only did he know of my adventure, but that the captain was also cognisant with the circumstances of the case, although the facts had not been officially communicated to him and he was not supposed to be aware of what had happened.

"He thinks you behaved very pluckily, youngster," observed Mr Cheffinch in the most gracious way, when informing me of this. "Ay and so do we all in the wardroom, let me tell you!"

"I'm sure I don't know what I have done to deserve your praise, sir," said I, feeling quite abashed by all these compliments. "It was all an accident."

"It is not so much what you did as what you didn't do, youngster," he replied, frankly enough. "You didn't show any funk or make a fuss when you fell overboard, and you did not wish to get your messmates into a scrape when Dr Nettleby—he told us this himself in confidence—found out the state you were in and made inquiries. In so doing, you behaved like a true sailor and a gentleman, and we're all proud to have such a promising brother officer amongst us, young Vernon, I assure you. If you go on as you have begun, you'll be a credit to the service."

Such a flattering eulogium made me blush like a peony, and I was very glad when the captain presently proposed the toast of "The Queen," which we drank, all standing.

This being satisfactorily done, taking that hint from the doctor that I had "better turn in early and have a good night's rest after all the exertions I had gone through," as a sort of reminder that they had seen enough of me for the occasion, I paid my adieux to the captain and company and went on deck, where I remained while the watch was being called at Eight Bells.

I need hardly add that, in this interval, I ruminated over the strange succession of events that had taken place within so short a period; events which, possibly, might make, as they just as probably might have marred, my entire future career in the service—ay, and, perhaps, have ended it altogether, but for God's good providence!



CHAPTER TEN.

"DEBTOR AND CREDITOR."

For a couple of days longer, we were as busy as bees, taking in our boats and spare spars and other gear, besides filling up our stock of provisions and water and completing with stores of all sorts; until Saturday arrived, the last day of our stay at Spithead, when all our preparations were finished and all hands, likewise, paid their advance of two months' pay, prior to our sailing for China.

No one was allowed on shore that afternoon, for fear of desertion; but, to make amends for this stoppage of all leave, the men were granted permission generally to receive their friends on board, so as to get rid of all the loose cash they were debarred from spending in more legitimate fashion on land.

The consequence of this licence was, that the ship was crowded from stem to stern with strangers of every description, shape and sex, from dinner-time to dusk; Jew and Gentile, kinsman and creditor, each and all alike in turn, having a final tug at poor Jack's purse-strings, striving to ease him of his superfluous wealth before departure.

As may readily be imagined, some queer customers came aboard; and some curious scenes took place, both of the sentimental and comic order.

One of these latter I especially noticed; for it occurred under my very eyes, within earshot of where I was standing by the gangway.

"Downy," as the men called him, the whilom digger of graves, who had so puzzled Commander Nesbitt on the first day of his joining, by giving his profession so peculiar a designation, had come on board without any sort of an outfit for the voyage.

So, at last not being able to go ashore to buy a stock of clothes on receiving his advance pay, the purser at that time not supplying the men, as is the custom nowadays, with what they required, the morose gentleman was obliged to have recourse to Poll Nash, one of the bumboat women, who had brought off a lot of "slop" clothing for those requiring a rig-out, and was selling the same on her own terms to all comers as quickly as she could dispose of her stock.

To her, therefore, Master "Downy" now applied, having nothing beyond the rather shabby suit of black in which he stood up, which was certainly somewhat unsuitable, to say the least, for a sailor's wear, particularly a man-o'-war's man, as the once gravedigger had been transformed into.

He had well-nigh fully invested, in this way, the entire amount he had just received from the purser, Mr Nipper, on account of his advance pay as an "ordinary seaman," that being his rating; when, I noticed, a dark-faced, long-nosed gentleman come up to him and speak.

The two then got into a violent altercation that speedily attracted everyone's attention, a small crowd gathering round the disputants just abaft the mainmast.

"I tell you I haven't a ha'penny left," I heard "Downy" say, after a lot of words passing between them the gist of which I could not catch. "No, not a ha'penny left, I swear. I've paid it all to this good lady here for clothes!"

"You haven't paid me for the monkey jacket yet," interposed Mrs Poll Nash, the bumboat woman, who was holding up the garment in question, waiting for the coin to be passed over before parting with it, the good lady having in her career learnt the wisdom of caution. "That'll make three pun' seventeen-and-six in all. Now, look sharp, my joker, or I'll chuck the duds back into the wherry. I ain't a-going to wait all day for my money, I tell you!"

"I'll let you have it in a minute," whined "Downy," who was apparently afraid to show what he had in his pocket, the dark gentleman's eye being upon him. "Can't you give a fellow time? I ain't a-going to run away."

"Ye vood, ye liar, presshus shoon if ye 'ad arf a shance, I bet, s'help me!" shouted out the other man, who, from his speech, was evidently a Hebrew and a creditor. "Ye're von tarn sheet, dat's vot ye vas, a bloomin' corpse swindler, vot sheets de living, s'help me, and rops ze dead! I shpit upon ye, I does!"

"Come, come, you fellows there, I can't allow such language on board this ship," sang out from the poop Lieutenant Jellaby, the officer of the watch, when matters had come to this pass. "Ship's corporal, bring those men here!"

In obedience to this command, the two disputants were both brought aft, Poll Nash following also, being an interested party, to get back her clothes or the money from "Downy."

The latter was at once recognised by Lieutenant Jellaby, a jolly fellow, in whose watch I was. He went by his Christian name of "Joe" amongst us all, being very good-natured and always full of fun and chaff.

"Hullo!" he exclaimed. "You're the gravedigger, ain't you?"

"Yes, sir," replied "Downy" sedately, as his original profession probably inculcated. "That were my humble calling, sir."

"Why did you give it up, eh?"

"Trade got slack, sir."

"How was that?"

"Porchmouth's too healthy a place, sir," answered the man, as grave as a judge. "People won't die there fast enough, sir, for my trade; so I had to turn it up, 'cause I couldn't make a decent living out of 'em."

"By burying them, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir," answered the man, seriously. "That is, when I were lucky enough to get a job."

"Well, that's a rum start, a fellow complaining of not being able to make a living out of the dead!" said Joe Jellaby to me, smiling; and then, turning again to the man he continued, "now, tell me what all this row is about?"

Here the Jew, who introduced himself as the keeper of a lodging-house in Portsea, put in his word.

"Dis shcoundrel vas owe me five blooming pounds," he cried out excitedly. "I vash keep him ven he vash shtarving; and now, ven he got money, he von't shettle. He's a shvindler and a tief, s'help me; and I shvear I'll have the law on him!"

"Why don't you pay this man if you owe him anything?" said the lieutenant, sharply, to "Downy."

"You've received your advance money from the paymaster, have you not?"

"Yes, sir; but I'd better tell you the whole story, sir," said the ex-gravedigger. "I acknowledge owing Mister Isaacs some money, though he's piled it on pretty thick, I must say; for I were four weeks out of work and had to board at his place."

"Yes, s'help me, and ate and drank of the best, too. Oh, Father Moses, how he did eat!" interrupted his creditor. "Look you, sir, it's only a mean shcoundrel that voud call a pound a week too much for good vittles. I'll put it thick on him, I will!"

"Stop that, or I'll have you turned out of the ship at once," said Mr Jellaby, as the Jew made a dart at "Downy," who dodged behind the marine sentry on the quarter-deck; while he repeated his injunction to the defaulter. "Pay the man his money and let him go."

"I can't, sir. I've expended all my money in buying clothes of this good lady here," explained Downy, pointing to the fat, old bumboat woman. "I hadn't a stitch to my back and had to get a rig-out for the voyage, sir."

"Yes, sir, he's 'ad three shirts, as is twelve-and-six, and cheap at the price, too, sir," corroborated Mistress Poll Nash, with a low curtsey to the lieutenant. "Yes, sir, and two pair of trousers for thirty shillin', besides a hoilskin and a serge jumper; and this monkey jacket here, sir, which makes three pun' seventeen-and-six, sir."

"Well, well, I suppose the calculation is all right," said Joe, laughing at her volubility and the queer way in which she bobbed a curtsey between each item of her catalogue. Then, addressing poor "Downy" he cried out curtly, "Turn out your pockets!"

The ex-gravedigger sadly produced four sovereigns.

"Is that all the money you've got?"

"Yes, sir," replied "Downy," in a still more sepulchral tone. "Every ha'penny."

"Then, pay this woman here, for you must have a rig-out for the voyage," said the lieutenant. "I'm afraid, Mr Isaacs, you'll have to wait till your debtor returns from China for the settlement of your claim. Your friend, the gravedigger here, will then probably have lots of loot; and, be better able to discharge his debt."

"Ach, holy Moses!" cried the Jew, refusing with spluttering indignation the half-a-crown change "Downy" received from Polly Nash, and which he handed to his other creditor with great gravity as an instalment of his claim. "He vill nevaire gome back to bay me."

"Oh yes he will," said Joe Jellaby, chaffingly, "and probably, he'll bury you, too, for joy at seeing your pleasant face again—all for love, my man."

Mr Isaacs, however, got furious at this and used such abusive language both to "Downy" and the lieutenant that the latter gave orders at last for him to be shown over the side.

This order was instantly carried out by the ship's corporal, with the assistance of the master-at-arms, who had now arrived on the scene, when the incident terminated; but we could hear the Jew still cursing and swearing, and calling on his patron saint, Father Moses, for a long while after, as he was being rowed ashore.

Shortly before evening quarters, all strangers were ordered also to go ashore; and, later on, the captain came off, bringing word that we were to sail early the following morning.

I heard him tell Commander Nesbitt that he had better begin shortening in cable at daylight, so that we might weigh anchor immediately after breakfast.

"Very good, sir," the commander replied. "But who is this with you, sir—another youngster?"

"Yes; he's Admiral Mills's son," said Captain Farmer, much to my delight, for I had not noticed my old friend, Master Tom, who was the very last fellow I expected to see. "I have taken him to oblige his father, though he hasn't quite completed his time on board the Illustrious."

"Oh, he won't lose anything by that," rejoined Commander Nesbitt, who did not have a very high opinion of my old training-ship, as I have already pointed out; and, just then, seeing me standing by, he said, "Take this young gentleman down to the gunroom, Vernon, and make him comfortable. I suppose you are already acquainted, both of you coming from the same ship?"

"Oh yes, sir," I answered glibly enough, overjoyed at having little Tommy Mills as a messmate once more. "He and I are old chums, sir."

"Indeed? Then there's no need for my introducing you," said the commander, with his genial laugh, which it was quite a pleasure to hear sometimes, it put one so much at one's ease. "Mind though, youngster, not too much skylarking when you get below. We don't want any more of that overboard business on board here, you know."

Of course I sniggered at this, understanding the allusion; but, naturally, Tom was not in the secret, and I had a good deal to tell him when I got him below.

The two of us took our seats on one of the lockers in a quiet corner of the gunroom and had such a very long chat, that we were only interrupted by Larkyns flinging a boot at us at Four Bells, calling out that it was high time for us to turn in to our hammocks.

He wanted to go to sleep he told us; for he would have to go on deck to take the middle watch at midnight, which was as close-handy as the boot he had sent at our heads to remind us!

This set us both giggling, which brought the companion boot to our corner, where it thumped against the bulkhead, grazing little Tom's nose and making him sniff.

However, this second missile had the desired end of sending us off; and so we left Master Larkyns to enjoy his repose undisturbed any longer by our chatter.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

"SHORTENING IN CABLE."

"Rouse out, port watch and idlers! Rouse out! rouse out!" hoarsely shouted out the boatswain's mates along the lower deck; and this call, mingled with the shrill piping wail of their whistles and the tramp of hurrying feet as the men straggled up the hatchway to stow their hammocks in the nettings above, awoke me from my slumbers next morning in the dreary semi-darkness of the so-called daylight.

I was so tired and sleepy that I was hardly half-roused even by all this uproar. Indeed, I was just dropping off again, when Dick Andrews, one of my fellow cadets from the training-ship, who had joined the Candahar the same time as myself and was rather a bumptious and overbearing sort of chap, shook me violently.

"Turn out, you lazy lubber, turn out," he shouted. "It's long past Eight Bells, and old Bitpin, who has taken Joe Jellaby's watch and is looking after the men scrubbing decks, has been asking for you. He's in a fine temper this morning, Master John Vernon, I can tell you; so, you'd better look sharp, my lad, or you'll 'catch Tommy' when he sees you."

"Oh, bother!" I cried, with a yawn that nearly dislocated my jaw, shoving a leg over the side of my hammock lazily enough, loth to leave my snug, warm nest for the cold, uncomfortable quarter-deck, where I knew there would be a lot of water sluicing about and the men holystoning, to make it more unpleasant. "I wish you wouldn't call me names, Andrews! You're not so awfully smart at rousing out yourself, that you can afford to brag about it! Why, Larkyns had to drag you round the gunroom last night in your nightshirt before he could make you wake up."

"Larkyns is a bully!" exclaimed Andrews, angrily. "He's a mean, cowardly bully!"

"Is he, my joker?" said that identical individual, whose approach was unnoticed by either of us, catching his slanderer a crack on the head which sent him spinning. "There, take that in proof of your statement! If I'm a bully, Mr Andrews, I must act as such, or you'll call me a liar next!"

"I was only joking," snivelled Dick, picking himself up and rubbing his cheek ruefully. "I didn't mean anything."

"Neither did I," replied Larkyns, drily, as he peeled off his jacket and the thick woollen comforter he had wrapped round his neck to keep out the chilly night air, and prepared to turn in after his watch on deck so as to have a nice snooze before breakfast. "I only gave you a striking proof of my devoted friendship for you, old chappie, that's all!"

With which parting words, he dexterously jumped into his hammock, rolling himself up like a worm in the blankets within; and, such was the facility of habit, I declare he was snoring like a grampus ere I had completed my dressing, although I scrambled into my clothes as quickly as I could, and hurried out of the steerage.

I left Dick Andrews still rubbing his cheek disconsolately and muttering impotent threats against his now unconscious assailant; but, he didn't do this until he was certain Larkyns could not hear good wishes on his behalf!

On going up the hatchway, I found all hands busy scrubbing and washing down the decks, which were in a precious mess.

There was a fair division of labour in carrying out the operation, the topmen and after-guard scouring the planks with sand; after which the decks were flushed fore and aft with floods of water pumped up by the "idlers."

Those are really a most useful and industrious class of misnamed men consisting of the carpenters, sailmakers, coopers, blacksmiths and other artificers, besides the cook's mates and yeomen of stores.

In our ship the lot numbered no less than some seventy in all, who every morning assisted in this praiseworthy task!

Creeping up as quietly as I could and trying to avoid observation from the squinting eye of Mr Bitpin, our fourth lieutenant, who was the oldest in seniority although he occupied such a subordinate position, I made my way to the side of Ned Anstruther, the midshipman of the watch, who stood on the weather side of the quarter-deck on a coil of rope so as to keep his feet out of the way of the water that was swishing round.

Ned nodded me a greeting; and, I fancied myself safe, when in an instant my presence was noted by the lieutenant, who turned on me.

"Hullo, youngster!" he called out, looking down from the break of the poop, whence he had been surveying operations, finding fault with the men beneath in quick succession, according to his general wont, and having a snap and a snarl at everyone. His temper, never a good one originally, had been soured by a bad digestion and ill luck in the way of promotion, the poor beggar having been passed over repeatedly by men younger than himself. "How is it you were not here when the watch was mustered?"

"I'm very sorry, sir," said I, apologetically. "I overslept myself, sir."

"Oh, indeed? You'd better not be late again when I'm officer of the watch, or I'll have you spread-eagled in the mizzen rigging as a warning to others, like they nail up crows against a barn door ashore. That'll make you sharper next time, my joker! Do you hear me, youngster?"

"Yes, sir," said I, touching my cap. "I hear you, sir."

"Very well, then. Mind you heed as well as hear!" he replied snappishly, rather disappointed, I thought, at my making no further answer, or trying to argue the point with him. "You can go down now to the wardroom steward and tell him to get me a cup of coffee as quickly as he can. Now, don't be a month of Sundays about it! Say it must be hot and strong, and not like that dish-water he brought me yesterday; or, I'll put him in the list and stop his grog! Do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," I said respectfully as before, giving no occasion for offence so as to come in for more grumbling on his part. "I hear you, sir."

"Confound that youngster, I can't catch him anyhow!" I heard him mutter to himself as if uttering his thoughts aloud, as I turned away with another touch of my cap and left the quarter-deck to fulfil my errand. "He's like those monkeys at the Rock—too artful to speak. Keeps his tripping lines too taut for that!"

He was quite right; for, three weeks' association on board, though I had been brought little in contact with him, had taught me to know his character pretty well. I had learnt that the best way to get on with Mr Bitpin was, to let him do all the talking and only to answer him when necessity required.

It was advisable also that the reply should be made in the fewest words possible, such a course giving him no ground for further complaint.

When I returned, some few minutes later, with the desired refreshment for the lieutenant, which I brought up myself, thus saving the wardroom steward, who was a very decent fellow, a probable wigging besides getting a cup of coffee myself as a bonus for performing the service, I found the decks swabbed and almost dry; the ropes, too, were all coiled and flemished down handsomely, and everything around looking as neat as a new pin.

Mr Bitpin, also, was in a better humour, a sip of the smoking coffee, which apparently was just to his taste, adding to his content at the scrubbing operations having been accomplished to his satisfaction.

"Thank you, my boy, for bringing this," he said, with a smack of his lips as he took a good long gulp of the grateful fluid, giving an approving nod to me. "That lazy steward would have taken half-an-hour at least if you had left it to him. When I'm as young as you are, I'll do as much for you."

I grinned at this, as did Ned Anstruther, who likewise winked in a knowing way to me behind Mr Bitpin's broad back; but, before I could reply to the lieutenant's complimentary speech, Commander Nesbitt made his appearance on the poop, having come up the after-hatchway and gone into and out of the captain's cabin again, without either of us seeing him.

"Ah, good morning, Mr Bitpin," he said, looking somewhat surprised at seeing that gentleman there. "I thought Mr Jellaby had the morning watch to-day?"

"So he had, sir," answered the lieutenant, hastily putting down his empty cup under the binnacle out of sight of the commander, who he knew disliked anything out of order on deck. "But, sir, Mr Jellaby was late off last night from the admiral's ball, and he begged me to take the duty for him. It is a great nuisance; for, I only turned in at Two Bells in the middle watch, myself. Of course, though, I couldn't be disobliging, you know, sir."

"Of course not, Mr Bitpin," said Commander Nesbitt, amused at this unexpected piece of good nature from one who very seldom put himself out for anybody. "It does not matter in the least; but, I told Jellaby I wished to shorten in cable as soon as the decks were washed down."

"He didn't tell me anything about that, sir, when he came on board this morning; for I met him at the gangway," growled out the crusty lieutenant in his usual surly way. "He was full of some Miss Thingamy's dancing and made me sick by telling me at least twenty times over what a 'chawming gurl' she was!"

"No doubt of that. He's a rare chap amongst the ladies, is our friend Jellaby!" said Commander Nesbitt laughing at Mr Bitpin's imitation of Joe's favourite expression. "We must see now, though, about shortening in without any further delay, for time's getting on."

"Very good, sir," replied the lieutenant, dropping his unwonted jocularity and relapsing into his matter-of-fact official manner. "I'd better go on the fo'c's'le and join Mr Morgan, the mate of the watch, who's already there."

"Thank you, Mr Bitpin," briefly said the commander by way of dismissal; and then, bending over the poop-rail, he called out, "Bosun's mate! Pipe all hands to shorten cable!"

"Ay, ay, sir," answered the petty officer addressed, putting his whistle to his mouth and blowing a shrill, ear-piercing call that echoed through the ship and was taken up by his brother mates below on the main and lower decks, whose voices could be heard, in every key, gruffly shouting out fore and aft, until the sound gradually died away in the distant recesses of the hold, "All hands, shorten cable!"

Immediately, as if touched by an enchanter's wand, the quiet that had reigned on board since the decks had been washed down disappeared, and all was bustle and apparent confusion; although, it need hardly be said, order was paramount everywhere.

Such, indeed, is always on board a man-of-war, where each man knows his place and takes care to be in it as quickly as he can; especially when "all hands" are called as in the present instance.

In this case, as now, all the crew turn out and come on deck to their stations, whether it be their watch below or not.

Up, therefore, tumbled the men of the starboard watch, who had only been relieved from duty an hour before, at the same time I was first roused out by the obliging Dick Andrews.

After the men, but a little more leisurely, came the other officers not already on deck.

Amongst these were, the Honourable Digby Lanyard, our swell first lieutenant, eyeglass in eye as usual, and dressed as neatly as if going to divisions, although he had only such very short notice for his toilet; Joe Jellaby, the proper officer of my watch, whose place Mr Bitpin had taken for the nonce, rubbing his eyes and only half awake from his dreams of "that chawming gurl" at the admiral's ball; Charley Gilham, our third lieutenant, a manly, blue-eyed sailor and fond of his profession, but no bookworm and bad at head-work; Mr Cheffinch, or "Gunnery Jack" as he was styled; the three other mates; and, all the middies and cadets, including Larkyns.

The latter was wroth at his ante-prandial snooze being so suddenly cut short; while Andrews, who followed in his rear, was savage at meeting his late antagonist so soon again, his friendly feelings towards whom were not increased by the foot of Larkyns giving him a "lift" up the hatchway as the pair scrambled on deck together, the cadet, unfortunately for himself, being a trifle ahead of the midshipman.

The first lieutenant, or "glass-eye" as the men called him, went out at once on the forecastle, where a number of the hands, under the superintendence of Mr Hawser, the boatswain, were already engaged rigging the fish davit and overhauling the anchor gear, with Mr Bitpin and Morgan looking on to see that everything was done properly.

"Charley" Gilham, and "Gunnery Jack," stopped down on the main deck to look after the capstan, which was soon surrounded by a squad of "jollies" under the command of one of the marine officers, Lieutenant Wagstaff, a fellow as tall as a maypole and with a headpiece of very similar material!

Mr Jellaby, however, not knowing where his deputy, Mr Bitpin, might be, came up on the quarter-deck; but he had no sooner appeared there than the commander despatched him to another station.

"Please go down at once to the lower deck, Mr Jellaby," said he, on catching sight of him. "I want you to attend to the working of the cables. See how smart you can be with those new hands we have from the foretop!"

"Very good, sir," replied "Joe," all on the alert in an instant. "I will go down directly."

Away he accordingly went; whereupon, I, having nothing special to do, and seeing everyone else appointed to some station or other, was just scuttling down the hatchway after him when the Commander called me back.

"Stop here, Mr Vernon," he cried. "I want you to act as my messenger again. Try if you can be as useful as the one they have to bring in the cable with. I suppose you know what sort of 'messenger' that is, eh?"

"Oh, yes, sir," I replied glibly enough. "It is a species of endless chain, passing round the base of the capstan amidships, and through a stationary block called a 'controller' on the forepart of the lower deck, to which the cable is attached by nippers as it comes through the hawse-hole inboard; and, as the capstan is hove round, the messenger drags the cable up, the nippers being released and taken forward again to get a fresh grip, while the slack of the cable passes down the deck pipes into the cable lockers below, sir."

"Very well answered, youngster," said Commander Nesbitt, approvingly, when I had reeled off this long yarn. "But, I think, it's about time for Mr Jellaby to give us the signal for heaving round now."

He liked things done smartly, did the commander, for he knew how they should be done; and, being prompt and ready in his own actions, judged others by himself.

Barely five minutes had elapsed since "all hands" had been piped, and in that interval the cable had to be unbitted and the "slip" stopping it to the deck knocked off by the blacksmith.

In addition to this, the messenger had to be brought up to the unbitted end and the nippers gripped on before those working the capstan on the main deck above could commence heaving round in order to "bring in the shekels, like unto the Israelites of old and the Hebrews of the present day," as Master Larkyns explained to me later; and yet, the commander grew impatient at the delay, in spite of all this having to be done in such a short space of time.

But, at last, the signal was given.

"Heave round!" snouted Mr Jellaby from the extreme fore-end of the lower deck, where he had been bustling up the topmen and seeing to the messenger being properly attached to the cable.

"Heave round," also cried Sylvester, one of the midshipmen with him.

"Heave round," repeated the boatswain's mate further aft; while his fellow mates stationed along the hatchways above passed on the cry, till it reached the commander on the poop, who in his full-toned voice now transformed what was merely a signal that all was ready into an order.

This gave the required impetus to the working party on the main deck, who were waiting for this order, really to "Heave round!"

At once, the drummer and bugler, in attendance on the eager marines and after-guard, struck up with fife and drum the festive strains of "Judy Calaghan," which Corporal Macan said "did his sowl good to hear, faith!"

Then, the bars having been previously shipped by Mr Cleete, the carpenter and his crew, round tramped the "jollies," round went the capstan; and, with it, the messenger, the endless chain of which, revolving slowly, hauled the cable foot by foot inboard, the "lengths" dropping down the deck pipes out of the way as the slack was released from the messenger, and the nippers passed forwards again; and so on, over and over again!

I had ample opportunity for noticing this, the commander sending me on another errand down to the scene of operations almost as soon as the drumming and fifing began. This was much to my delight; for I enjoyed the strains of the jolly air played as much as Corporal Macan, as well as the steady tramp of the marines and after-guard round the capstan, the men stamping on the deck in time to the music, as if they would smash through the planking.

"Go and tell Mr Jellaby," said he, "to shorten in to two shackles."

"Ay, ay, sir."

With which response to Commander Nesbitt's order, I sprang down the after-hatchway on to the main deck, proceeding thence below to where old "Joe" and his topmen were working.

Of course I gave the lieutenant the mandate with which I had been charged; but I remaining, boylike, to watch what was going on, the commander not having told me to return immediately, though I ought to have done so.

The capstan, however, was spun round so merrily by the marines while the nippers, in the hands of the active seamen, passed so freely; that, ere I knew how far the task had progressed, so as to be able to report to the commander the state of things, Mr Jellaby suddenly sang out "Belay!"

Instantly, the word being passed by the boatswain's mates as before, so that the order reached the lieutenant in charge of the working party at the capstan above almost as soon as Mr Jellaby sang out from the lower deck forward, the music stopped suddenly, as if the drummer and fifer had both been shot on the spot.

With it, too, ceased the monotonous tramp, tramp, tramp of the men above our heads, which sounded through the thickness of the deck like a band of Ethiopian minstrels dancing a flap dance and marching "round the mulberry bush" afterwards, to "show their muscle," as is the wont of these negro "entertainers," so-called!

"You may go up now to the commander," said Mr Jellaby to me, as a polite hint to be off, "and tell him that the second shackle's just inside our hawse."

"Very good, sir," I replied, moving away as the blacksmith went to put the slip on the cable to secure it from running out until we were ready to weigh anchor later on. "I'll tell him at once, sir."

"All right," said Commander Nesbitt, when I reached the poop and repeated Mr Jellaby's message, the import of which he already knew from the stoppage of all movement below, and the report of the boatswain from the forecastle that the anchor was "a short stay apeak"; when, advancing to the rail, he called out in a louder key, "Bosun's mate, pipe the hands to breakfast!"



CHAPTER TWELVE.

BELOW IN THE GUNROOM.

"Well!" exclaimed little Tommy Mills, a little later, when he and I, with young Morgan, the mate and Ned Anstruther, on being relieved by the starboard watch, all went down to the gunroom and sat down to have our breakfast, "I call this a beastly shame."

"Hullo," said Popplethorne, one of the other middies, looking up from the plate on which he was busily engaged; while several other fellows, similarly employed ceased operations likewise, staring at Tommy in astonishment. "What's up?"

"Nothing's up, but everything seems down," replied my little chum in an aggrieved tone. "I don't see a crumb left for a poor, hungry chap; no bloaters, no marmalade, no nothing. When I was in the Illustrious, if they did grind a fellow a bit, one always had something decent to eat, at all events!"

"First come, first served," mumbled Phil Plumper, the senior mate of our watch, who had his mouth full and was tucking in some species of "burgoo," or porridge with much gusto. He was an awfully fat fellow and looked just like a boiled lobster bursting out of its shell, for the buttons of his jacket were continually carrying away at odd moments. "If you don't look out for yourself on board ship you'll find nobody 'll look after you; and, you'll come off minus!"

"That'll never be your case," retorted Tommy, with a snigger. "Judging by appearances, I should say your condition represents a plus quantity!"

"Beg pardon, sir," apologised Dobbs, the gunroom steward, who from his comical little screwed-up eyes and manner must have been first cousin to my old friend the waiter at the "Keppel's Head," noticing the disdainful expression with which Tommy Mills continued to glance round the empty table, seeking in vain something appetising in the way of food for his hungry eye to rest upon,—"Beg pardon, sir, but the bumboat woman didn't come off this morning. Sunday, you know, sir."

"That's all gammon, steward," said Master Tommy, still looking about here and there and finding nothing but a desert of empty dishes and dirty plates. "You ought to have sent one of the ship's boats ashore if you didn't have enough on board for everybody in the mess. Our steward in the Illustrious always kept a good look out and sent himself for them when the things were not brought off in time. Why didn't you do the same?"

"I'm sure I'm werry sorry, sir," answered Dobbs, humbly, awed by the way in which little Tommy spoke to him; for my old comrade, I noticed, had lost none of his cheek since our separation, and now put on the air of a post captain at the least. "Begging y'r pardon, sir, but getting ashore from Spithead, with a northerly wind a-blowin', ain't quite so easy as landing from Point and you're moored over against Blockhouse Fort!"

"That may be, but it's none of my business," said young Mills, loftily, waiving Dobbs's plea aside as a mere trivial matter. "I want some breakfast. What have you at all fit for a christian to eat? I see nothing here, nothing at all."