“My dear Trotter, how cruel of you not to give me warning; I thought that nobody was below. I declare I’m so ashamed,” continued the lady simpering, and covering her face with the hand which was unemployed.
“It can’t be helped now, my love, neither was there any thing to be ashamed of. I trust Mr. Simple and you will be very good friends. I believe I mentioned his desire to join our mess.”
“I am sure I shall be very happy in his company. This is a strange place for me to live in, Mr. Simple, after the society to which I have been accustomed; but affection can make any sacrifice; and rather than lose the company of my Trotter, who has been unfortunate in pecuniary matters—”
“But, my dear,” interrupted Mr. Trotter, “is it not time to look after our dinner?”
“Yes; I am going forward for it now. We have skewer pieces today Mr. Simple, will you excuse me?”—and then, with a great deal of flirtation and laughing about her ankles, and requesting me, as a favour, to turn my face away, Mrs. Trotter ascended the ladder.
As the reader may wish to know what sort of looking personage she was, I will take this opportunity to describe her. Her figure was very good, and at one period of her life I thought her face must have been very handsome; at the time I was introduced to her, it showed the ravages of time or hardship very distinctly; in short, she might be termed a faded beauty, flaunting in her dress, and not very clean in her person.
“Charming woman, Mrs. Trotter, is she not, Mr. Simple?” said the master’s mate; to which of course I immediately acquiesced. “Now, Mr. Simple,” continued he, “there are a few arrangements which I had better mention while Mrs. Trotter is away, for she would be shocked at our talking about such things. Of course, the style of living which we indulge in is rather expensive. Mrs. Trotter cannot dispense with her tea and her other little comforts; at the same time I must put you to no extra expense—I had rather be out of pocket myself. I propose that during the time you mess with us, you shall only pay one guinea per week; and, as for entrance money, why I think I must not charge you more than a couple of guineas. Have you any money?”
“Yes,” I replied, “I have three guineas and a half left.”
“Well, then, give me the three guineas, and the half guinea you can reserve for pocket-money. You must write to your friends immediately for a further supply.”
I handed him the money, which he put in his pocket. “Your chest,” continued he, “you shall bring down here, for Mrs. Trotter will, I am sure, if I request it, not only keep it in order for you, but see that your clothes are properly mended. She is a charming woman, Mrs. Trotter, and very fond of young gentlemen. How old are you?”
I replied that I was fifteen.
“No more! well, I am glad of that, for Mrs. Trotter is very particular after a certain age. I should recommend you on no account to associate with the other midshipmen. They are very angry with me, because I would not permit Mrs. Trotter to join their mess, and they are sad storytellers.”
“That they certainly are,” replied I; but here we were interrupted by Mrs. Trotter coming down with a piece of stick in her hand, upon which were skewered about a dozen small pieces of beef and pork, which she first laid on a plate, and then began to lay the cloth, and prepare for dinner.
“We have but a poor dinner to-day,” said Mrs. Trotter, “for the bum-boat woman disappointed me. I particularly requested her to bring me off a leg of lamb, but she says that there was none in the market. It is rather early for it, that’s true, but Trotter is very nice in his eating. Now let us sit down to dinner.”
I felt very sick, indeed, and could eat nothing. Our dinner consisted of the pieces of beef and pork, the potatoes, and a baked pudding in a tin dish. Mr. Trotter went up to serve the spirits out to the ship’s company, and returned with a bottle of rum.
“Have you got Mr. Simple’s allowance, my love?” inquired Mrs. Trotter.
“Yes, he is victualled to-day, as he came on board before twelve o’clock. Do you drink spirits, Mr. Simple?”
“No, I thank you,” replied I, for I remembered the captain’s injunction.
“Taking, as I do, such an interest in your welfare, I must earnestly recommend you to abstain from them,” said Mr. Trotter. “It is a very bad habit, and once acquired, not easy to be left off. I am obliged to drink them that I may not check the perspiration after working in the hold: I have, nevertheless, a natural abhorrence of them; but my champagne and claret days are gone by, and I must submit to circumstances.”
“My poor Trotter!” said the lady.
“Well,” continued he, “it’s a poor heart that never rejoiceth.” He then poured out half a tumbler of rum, and filled the glass up with water.
“My love, will you taste it?”
“Now, Trotter, you know that I never touch it, except when the water is so bad that I must have the taste taken away. How is the water to-day?”
“As usual, my dear, not drinkable.” After much persuasion, Mrs. Trotter agreed to sip a little out of his glass. I thought that she took it pretty often, considering that she did not like it, but I felt so unwell that I was obliged to go on the main-deck.
I went to bed very tired; Mr. Trotter had my hammock hung up in the cock-pit, separated by a canvas screen from the cot in which he slept with his wife. I thought this very odd, but they told me it was the general custom on board ship, although Mrs. Trotter’s delicacy was very much shocked by it. I was very sick, but Mrs. Trotter was very kind. When I was in bed she kissed me, and wished me good night, and very soon afterwards I fell fast asleep.
Chapter Six.
Puzzled with very common words—Mrs. Trotter takes care of my wardrobe—A matrimonial duet, ending “con strepito.”
I awoke the next morning at daylight with a noise over my head which sounded like thunder; I found it proceeded from holy-stoning and washing down the main-deck. I was very much refreshed nevertheless, and did not feel the least sick or giddy. Mr. Trotter, who had been up at four o’clock, came down and directed one of the marines to fetch me some water. I washed myself on my chest, and then went on the main-deck, which they were swabbing dry. Standing by the sentry at the cabin door, I met one of the midshipmen with whom I had been in company at the Blue Posts.
“So, Master Simple, old Trotter and his faggot of a wife have got hold of you—have they?” said he. I replied, that I did not know the meaning of faggot, but that I considered Mrs. Trotter a very charming woman. At which he burst into a loud laugh. “Well,” said he, “I’ll just give you a caution. Take care, or they’ll make a clean sweep. Has Mrs. Trotter shown you her ankle yet?”
“Yes,” I replied, “and a very pretty one it is.”
“Ah, she’s at her old tricks. You had much better have joined our mess at once. You’re not the first greenhorn that they have plucked. Well,” said he, as he walked away, “keep the key of your own chest—that’s all.”
When
