year? It appears to be very unwise to attempt making further converts, for people on shore seem determined not to listen to reason or argument. But it has occurred to me, that although the whole earth has been so nefariously divided among the few, that the waters at least are the property of all. No man claims his share of the sea—every one may there plough as he pleases, without being taken up for a trespasser. Even war makes no difference; every one may go on as he pleases, and if they meet, it is nothing but a neutral ground on which the parties contend. It is, then, only upon the ocean that I am likely to find that equality and rights of man, which we are so anxious to establish on shore; and therefore I have resolved not to go to school again, which I detest, but to go to sea, and propagate our opinions as much as I can.”
“I cannot listen to that, Jack. In the first place, you must return to school; in the next place, you shall not go to sea.”
“Then, father, all I have to say is, that I swear by the rights of man I will not go back to school, and that I will go to sea. Who and what is to prevent me? Was not I born my own master?—has any one a right to dictate to me as if I were not his equal? Have I not as much right to my share of the sea as any other mortal? I stand upon perfect equality,” continued Jack, stamping his right foot on the floor.
What had Mr. Easy to offer in reply? He must either, as a philosopher, have sacrificed his hypothesis, or, as a father, have sacrificed his son. Like all philosophers, he preferred what he considered as the less important of the two, he sacrificed his son; but—we will do him justice—he did it with a sigh.
“Jack, you shall, if you wish it, go to sea.”
“That, of course,” replied Jack, with the air of a conqueror, “but the question is, with whom? Now it has occurred to me that Captain Wilson has just been appointed to a ship, and I should like to sail with him.”
“I will write to him,” said Mr. Easy mournfully, “but I should have liked to have felt his head first;” and thus was the matter arranged.
The answer from Captain Wilson was, of course, in the affirmative, and he promised that he would treat Jack as his own son.
Our hero mounted his father’s horse, and rode off to Mr. Bonnycastle.
“I am going to sea, Mr. Bonnycastle.”
“The very best thing for you,” replied Mr. Bonnycastle.
Our hero met Dr. Middleton.
“I am going to sea, Dr. Middleton.”
“The very best thing for you,” replied the doctor.
“I am going to sea, mother,” said John.
“To sea, John, to sea? no, no, dear John, you are not going to sea,” replied Mrs. Easy, with horror.
“Yes, I am; father has agreed, and says he will obtain your consent.”
“My consent! Oh, my dear, dear boy!”—and Mrs. Easy wept bitterly, as Rachel mourning for her children.
Chapter Eight.
In which Mr. Easy has his first lesson as to zeal in His Majesty’s Service.
As there was no time to lose, our hero very soon bade adieu to his paternal roof, as the phrase is, and found his way down to Portsmouth. As Jack had plenty of money, and was very much pleased at finding himself his own master, he was in no hurry to join his ship, and five or six companions not very creditable, whom either Jack had picked up, or had picked up Jack, and who lived upon him, strongly advised him to put it off until the very last moment. As this advice happened to coincide with Jack’s opinion, our hero was three weeks at Portsmouth before any one knew of his arrival, but at last Captain Wilson received a letter from Mr. Easy, by which he found that Jack had left home at the period we have mentioned, and he desired the first-lieutenant to make inquiries, as he was afraid that some accident might have happened to him. As Mr. Sawbridge, the first-lieutenant, happened to be going on shore on the same evening for the last time previous to the ship’s sailing, he looked into the Blue Posts, George, and Fountain Inns, to inquire if there was such a person arrived as Mr. Easy. “Oh, yes,” replied the waiter at the Fountain—“Mr. Easy has been here these three weeks.”
“The devil he has,” roared Mr. Sawbridge, with all the indignation of a first-lieutenant defrauded three weeks of a midshipman; “where is he; in the coffee-room?”
“Oh dear no, sir,” replied the waiter, “Mr. Easy has the front apartments on the first floor.”
“Well, then, show me up to the first floor.”
“May I request the pleasure of your name, sir?” said the waiter.
“First-lieutenants don’t send up their names to midshipmen,” replied Mr. Sawbridge; “he shall soon know who I am.”
At this reply the waiter walked upstairs, followed by Mr. Sawbridge, and threw open the door.
“A gentleman wishes to see you, sir,” said the waiter.
“Desire him to walk in,” said Jack: “and, waiter, mind that the punch is a little better than it was yesterday; I have asked two more gentlemen to dine here.”
In the meantime Mr. Sawbridge, who was not in his uniform, had entered, and perceived Jack alone, with the dinner-table laid out in the best style for eight, a considerable show of plate for even the Fountain Inn, and everything, as well as the apartment itself, according to Mr. Sawbridge’s opinion, much more fit for a commander-in-chief than a midshipman of a sloop of war.
Now Mr. Sawbridge was a good officer, one who had really worked his way up to the present rank, that is to say, that he had served seven-and-twenty years, and had nothing but his pay. He was a little soured in the service, and certainly had an aversion to the young men of family who were now fast crowding into it—and with some grounds, as he perceived his own chance of promotion decrease in the same ratio as the numbers increased. He considered that in proportion as midshipmen assumed a cleaner and more gentlemanly appearance, so did they become more useless, and it may therefore be easily imagined that his bile was raised by this parade and display in a lad, who was very shortly to be, and ought three weeks before to have been, shrinking from his frown. Nevertheless, Sawbridge was a good-hearted man, although a little envious of luxury, which he could not pretend to indulge in himself.
“May I beg to ask,” said Jack, who was always remarkably polite and gentlemanly in his address, “in what manner I may be of service to you?”
“Yes, sir, you may—by joining your ship immediately. And may I beg to ask in return, sir, what is the reason you have stayed on shore three weeks without joining her?”
Hereupon Jack, who did not much admire the peremptory tone of Mr. Sawbridge, and who during the answer had taken a seat, crossed his legs and played with the gold chain to which his watch was secured, after a pause very coolly replied:
“And pray, who are you?”
“Who am I, sir?” replied Sawbridge, jumping out of his chair—“my name is Sawbridge, sir, and
