Peter Simple

“I am much obliged to you, Swinburne, for your good wishes; but I can do my duty, and why should I fear anything?”

“A man may do his duty, Mr Simple; but if a captain is determined to ruin him, he has the power. I have been longer in the service than you have, and have been wide awake: only be careful of one thing Mr Simple; I beg your pardon for being so free, but in no case lose your temper.”

“No fear of that, Swinburne,” replied I.

“It’s very easy to say ‘no fear of that,’ Mr Simple: but recollect you have not yet had your temper tried as some officers have. You have always been treated like a gentleman; but should you find yourself treated otherwise, you have too good blood in your veins not to speak—I am sure of that. I’ve seen officers insulted and irritated, till no angel could put up with the treatment—and then for an unguarded word, which they would have been swabs not to have made use of, sent out of the service to the devil.”

“But you forget, Swinburne, that the articles of war are made for the captain as well as for everybody else in the ship.”

“I know that; but still, at court-martials captains make a great distinction between what a superior says to an inferior, and what an inferior says to a superior.”

“True,” replied I, quoting Shakespeare:—

“‘That’s in the captain but a choleric word,
Which in the soldier is rank blasphemy.’”

“Exactly my meaning—I rather think,” said Swinburne, “if a captain calls you no gentleman, you mustn’t say the same to him.”

“Certainly not,” replied I; “but I can demand a court-martial.”

“Yes; and it will be granted; but what do you gain by that? It’s like beating against a heavy gale and a lee tide—thousand to one if you fetch your port; and if you do, your vessel is strained to pieces, sails worn as thin as a newspaper, and rigging chafed half through, wanting fresh serving: no orders for a refit, and laid up in ordinary for the rest of your life. No, no, Mr Simple; the best plan is to grin and bear it, and keep a sharp look-out; for depend upon it, Mr Simple, in the best ship’s company in the world, a spy captain will always find spy followers.”

“Do you refer that observation to me, Mr Swinburne?” said a voice from under the bulwark. I started round, and found the captain, who had crept upon deck, unperceived by us, during our conversation.

Swinburne made no reply, but touched his hat, and walked over to leeward.

“I presume, Mr Simple,” said the captain, turning to me, “that you consider yourself justified in finding fault, and abusing your captain, to an inferior officer, on His Majesty’s quarter-deck.”

“If you heard the previous conversation, sir,” replied I, “you must be aware that we were speaking generally about court-martials. I do not imagine that I have been guilty of any impropriety in conversing with an officer upon points connected with the service.”

“You mean then to assert, sir, that the gunner did not refer to me when he said the words, ‘spy captain.’”

“I acknowledge, sir, that as you were listening unperceived, the term might appear to refer to you; but the gunner had no idea, at the time, that you were listening. His observation was, that a spy captain would always find spy followers. This I take to be a general observation; and I am sorry that you think otherwise.”

“Very well, Mr Simple,” said Captain Hawkins—and he walked down the companion ladder into his cabin.

“Now a’n’t it odd, Mr Simple, that I should come with the intention of being of service to you, and yet get you into such a scrape? However, perhaps, it is all for the best; open war is preferable to watching in the dark, and stabbing in the back. He never meant to have shown his colours; but I hit him so hard that he forgot himself.”

“I suspect that to be the case, Swinburne; But I think that you had better not talk any more with me to-night.”

“Wish I hadn’t talked quite so much, as things have turned out,” replied Swinburne. “Good night, sir.”

I reflected upon what had passed, and felt convinced that Swinburne was right in saying that it was better this had occurred than otherwise. I now knew the ground which I stood upon; and forewarned was being forearmed.

Chapter Fifty Five

We encounter a Dutch brig of war—Captain Hawkins very contemplative near the capstan—Hard knocks, and no thanks for it—Who’s afraid?—Men will talk—The brig goes about on the wrong tack

At daylight the next morning we were off the Texel, and could see the low sand-hills: but we had scarcely made them out, when the fog in the offing cleared up, and we made a strange vessel. The hands were turned up, and all sail made in chase. We made her out to be a brig of war; and as she altered her course considerably, we had an idea that she was an enemy. We made the private signal, which was unanswered, and we cleared for action; the brig making all sail on the starboard tack, and we following her—she bearing about two miles on out weather-bow. The breeze was not steady; at one time the brig was staggering under her top-gallant sails, while we had our royals set; at another, we would have hands by the top-gallant sheets and topsail halyards, while she expanded every stitch of canvas. On the whole, however, in an hour we had neared about half a mile. Our men were all at their quarters, happy to be so soon at their old work. Their jackets and hats were thrown off, a bandana handkerchief tied round their heads, and another, or else their black silk handkerchiefs, tied round their waists. Every gun was ready, everything was in its place, and every soul, I was going to say, was anxious for the set-to; but I rather think I must not include the captain, who from the commencement showed no signs of pleasure, and anything but presence of mind. When we first chased the vessel, it was reported that it was a merchantman; and it was not until we had broad daylight that we discovered her to be a man-of-war. There was one thing to be said in his favour—he had never been in action in his life.

The breeze now fell light, and we were both with our sails set, when a thick fog obscured her from our sight. The fog rolled on till we met it, and then we could not see ten yards from the brig. This was a source of great mortification, as we had every chance of losing her. Fortunately, the wind was settling down fast into a calm, and about twelve o’clock the sails flapped against the mast. I reported twelve o’clock, and asked the captain whether we should pipe to dinner.

“Not yet,” replied he, “we will put her head about.”

“Go about, sir?” replied I with surprise.

“Yes,” said he; “I’m convinced that the chase is on the other tack at this moment; and if we do not, we shall lose her.”

“If she goes about, sir,” said I, “she must get among the sands, and we shall be sure of her.”

“Sir,” replied he, “when I ask your advice, you will be pleased to give it. I command this vessel.”

I touched my hat, and turned the hands up about ship, convinced that the captain wished to avoid the action, as the only chance of escape for the brig was her keeping her wind in the tack she was on.

“’Bout ship—’bout ship!” cried the men. “What the hell are we going about for?” inquired they of one another, as they came up the ladder.

“Silence there, fore and aft!” cried I. “Captain Hawkins, I do not think we can get her round, unless we wear—the wind is very light.”

“Then wear ship, Mr Simple.”

There are times when grumbling and discontent among the seamen is so participated by the officer, although they do not show it, that the expressions made use of are passed unheeded. Such was the case at present. The officers looked at each other, and said nothing; but the men were unguarded in their expressions. The brig wore gradually round; and when the men were bracing up the yards, sharp on the other tack, instead of the “Hurrah!” and “Down with the mark,” they fell back with a groan.

“Brace up those yards in silence there,” said I to the men, which was all I could say.

The ropes were coiled down, and we piped to dinner. The captain, who continued on deck, could not fail to hear the discontented expressions which occasionally were made use of on the lower deck. He made no observation, but occasionally looked over the side, to see whether the brig went through the water. This she did slowly for about ten minutes, when it fell a perfect calm—so that, to use a common phrase, he gained little by his motion. About half-past one, a slight breeze from the opposite quarter sprung up—we turned round to it—it increased—the fog blew away, and, in a quarter of an hour, the chase was again visible, now upon our lee beam. The men gave three cheers.

“Silence there, fore and aft,” cried the captain angrily. “Mr Simple, is this the way that the ship’s company have been disciplined under their late commander, to halloo and bawl whenever they think proper?”

I was irritated at any reflection upon O’Brien, and I replied, “Yes sir; they have been always accustomed to express their joy at the prospect of engaging the enemy.”

“Very well, Mr Simple,” replied he.

“How are we to put her head?” inquired the master, touching his hat; “for the chase?”

“Of course,” replied the captain, who then descended into his cabin.

“Come, my lads,” said Swinburne, as soon as the captain was below, “I have been going round, and I fine that your pets are all in good fighting order. I promise ye, you sha’n’t wait for powder. They’ll find that the Rattlesnake can bite devilish hard yet, I expect.”

“Ay, and without its head, too,” replied one of the men, who was the Joe Miller of the brig.

The chase, perceiving that she could not escape—for we were coming up with her, hand over hand, now shortened sail for action, hoisting Dutch colours.

Captain Hawkins again made his appearance on the quarter-deck, when we were within half a mile of her.

“Are we to run alongside of her, or how?” inquired I. “Mr Simple, I command her,” replied he, “and want no interference whatever.”

“Very well, sir,” replied I, and I walked to the gangway.

“Mr Thompson,” cried the captain, who appeared to have screwed up his courage to the right pitch, and had now taken his position for a moment on one of the carronades; “you will lay the brig right—”