Peter Simple. Фредерик Марриет

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mouth of the tobacco-juice. The other men were so pleased at the fancy, that they spat twice as much as before, for the pleasure of making him run about.

      I was much amused one morning watch that I kept. We were stowing the hammocks in the quarter-deck nettings, when one of the boys came up with his hammock on his shoulder, and as he passed the first lieutenant, the latter perceived that he had a quid of tobacco in his cheek.

      “What have you got there, my good lad—a gum-boil?—your cheek is very much swelled.”

      “No, sir,” replied the boy, “there’s nothing at all the matter.”

      “Oh, there must be; it is a bad tooth, then. Open your mouth, and let me see.”

      Very reluctantly the boy opened his mouth, and discovered a large roll of tobacco-leaf.

      “I see, I see,” said the first lieutenant, “your mouth wants overhauling, and your teeth cleaning. I wish we had a dentist on board; but as we have not, I will operate as well as I can. Send the armourer up here with his tongs.”

      When the armourer made his appearance, the boy was made to open his mouth, while the chaw of tobacco was extracted with his rough instrument.

      “There now,” said the first lieutenant, “I am sure that you must feel better already; you never could have had any appetite. Now, captain of the afterguard, bring a piece of old canvas and some sand here, and clean his teeth nicely.”

      The captain of the afterguard came forward, and putting the boy’s head between his knees, scrubbed his teeth well with the sand and canvas for two or three minutes.

      “There, that will do,” said the first lieutenant. “Now, my little fellow, your mouth is nice and clean, and you’ll enjoy your breakfast. It was impossible for you to have eaten anything with your mouth in such a nasty state. When it’s dirty again, come to me and I’ll be your dentist.”

      One day I was on the forecastle with Mr. Chucks, the boatswain, who was very kind to me. He had been showing me how to make the various knots and bends of rope which are used in our service. I am afraid that I was very stupid, but he showed me over and over again, until I learnt how to make them. Amongst others, he taught me a fisherman’s bend, which he pronounced to be the king of all knots; “and, Mr. Simple,” continued he, “there’s a moral in that knot. You observe, that when the parts are drawn the right way, and together, the more you pull, the faster they hold, and the more impossible to untie them; but see, by hauling them apart, how a little difference, a pull the other way, immediately disunites them, and then how easy they cast off in a moment. That points out the necessity of pulling together in this world, Mr. Simple, when we wish to hold on, and that’s a piece of philosophy worth all the twenty-six thousand and odd years of my friend the carpenter, which leads to nothing but a brown study, when he ought to be attending to his duty.”

      “Very true, Mr. Chucks, you are the better philosopher of the two.”

      “I am the better educated, Mr. Simple, and, I trust, more of a gentleman. I consider a gentleman to be, to a certain degree, a philosopher; for very often he is obliged, to support his character as such, to put up with what another person may very properly fly in a passion about. I think coolness is the great characterstick of a gentleman. In the service, Mr. Simple, one is obliged to appear angry without indulging the sentiment. I can assure you, that I never lose my temper, even when I use my rattan.”

      “Why, then, Mr. Chucks, do you swear so much at the men? surely that is not gentlemanly?”

      “Most certainly not, sir. But I must defend myself by observing the very artificial state in which we live on board of a man-of-war. Nothing would afford me more pleasure than to be able to carry on the duty as a gentleman, but that’s impossible.”

      “I really cannot see why.”

      “Perhaps, then, Mr. Simple, you will explain to me why the captain and first lieutenant swear.”

      “That I do not pretend to answer, but they only do so upon an emergency.”

      “Exactly so; but, sir, their ’mergency is my daily and hourly duty. In the continual working of the ship I am answerable for all that goes amiss. The life of a boatswain is a life of ’mergency, and therefore I swear.”

      “I still cannot allow it to be requisite, and certainly it is sinful.”

      “Excuse me, my dear sir; it is absolutely requisite, and not at all sinful. There is one language for the pulpit, and another for on board ship, and, in either situation, a man must make use of those terms most likely to produce the necessary effect upon his listeners. Certain it is that common parlancy won’t do with a common seaman. It is not here as in the Scriptures, ‘Do this, and he doeth it,’ (by-the-by, that chap must have had his soldiers in tight order); but it is ‘Do this, damn your eyes,’ and then it is done directly. The order to do just carries the weight of a cannon shot, but it wants the perpelling power—the damn is the gunpowder which sets it flying in the execution of its duty. Do you comprehend me, Mr. Simple?”

      “I perfectly understand you, Mr. Chucks, and I cannot help remarking, and that without flattery, that you are very different from the rest of the warrant officers. Where did you receive your education?”

      “Mr. Simple, I am here a boatswain with a clean shirt, and, I say it myself, and no one dare gainsay it, also with a thorough knowledge of my duty. But although I do not say that I ever was better off, I can say this, that I’ve been in the best society, in the company of lords and ladies. I once dined with your grandfather.”

      “That’s more than ever I did, for he never asked me, nor took the least notice of me,” replied I.

      “What I state is true. I did not know that he was your grandfather until yesterday, when I was talking with Mr. O’Brien; but I perfectly recollect him, although I was very young at that time. Now, Mr. Simple, if you will promise me as a gentleman (and I know you are one), that you will not repeat what I tell you, then I’ll let you into the history of my life.”

      “Mr. Chucks, as I am a gentleman I never will divulge it until you are dead and buried, and not then if you do not wish it.”

      Mr. Chucks then sat down upon the fore-end of the booms by the funnel, and I took my place by his side, when he commenced as follows:—

      “My father was a boatswain before me—one of the old school, rough as a bear, and drunken as a Gosport fiddler. My mother was—my mother, and I shall say no more. My father was invalided for harbour duty after a life of intoxication, and died shortly afterwards. In the meantime I had been, by the kindness of the port-admiral’s wife, educated at a foundation school. I was thirteen when my father died, and my mother, not knowing what to do with me, wished to bind me apprentice to a merchant vessel; but this I refused, and, after six months’ quarrelling on the subject, I decided the point by volunteering in the Narcissus frigate. I believe that my gentlemanly ideas were innate, Mr. Simple; I never, as a child, could bear the idea of the merchant service. After I had been a week on board, I was appointed servant to the purser, where I gave such satisfaction by my alertness and dexterity, that the first lieutenant took me away from the purser to attend upon himself. It so happened, that after I had served the first lieutenant for about a year, a young lord (I must not mention his name, Mr. Simple) was sent to sea by his friends, or by his own choice, I don’t know which, but I was told that his uncle, who was ’zeckative, and had an interest in his death, persuaded him to go. A lord at that period, some twenty-five years ago, was

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