Mr Midshipman Easy (30 page)

Jack and Gascoigne were then taken out of irons and permitted to see Don Philip, who informed them that he had revenged the insult, but Jack and Gascoigne did not wish to go on shore again after what had passed. After an hour's conversation, and assurances of continued friendship, Don Philip, his brother, and their friends, took leave of our two midshipmen, and rowed on shore.

And now we must be serious.

We do not write these novels merely to amuse,—we have always had it in our view to instruct, and it must not be supposed that we have no other end in view than to make the reader laugh. If we were to write an elaborate work, telling truths, and plain truths, confining ourselves only to point out errors and to demand reform, it would not be read; we have therefore selected this light and trifling species of writing, as it is by many denominated, as a channel through which we may convey wholesome advice in a palatable shape. If we would point out an error, we draw a character, and although that character appears to weave naturally into the tale of fiction, it becomes as much a beacon as it is a vehicle of amusement. We consider this to be the true art of novel writing, and that crime and folly and error can be as severely lashed as virtue and morality can be upheld, by a series of amusing causes and effects, that entice the reader to take a medicine, which, although rendered agreeable to the palate, still produces the same internal benefit, as if it had been presented to him in its crude state, in which it would either be refused or nauseated.

In our naval novels, we have often pointed out the errors which have existed, and still do exist, in a service which is an honour to its country; for what institution is there on earth that is perfect, or into which, if it once was perfect, abuses will not creep? Unfortunately, others have written to decry the service, and many have raised up their voices against our writings, because they felt that, in exposing error, we were exposing them. But to this we have been indifferent; we felt that we were doing good, and we have continued. To prove that we are correct in asserting that we have done good, we will, out of several, state one single case.

In
The King's Own,
a captain, when requested to punish a man
instanter
for a fault committed, replies that he never has and never will punish a man until twenty-four hours after the offence, that he may not be induced by the anger of the moment to award a severer punishment than in his cooler moments he might think commensurate—and that he wished that the Admiralty would give out an order to that effect.

Some time after the publication of that work, the order was given by the Admiralty, forbidding the punishment until a certain time had elapsed after the offence; and we had the pleasure of knowing from the first lord of the Admiralty of the time, that it was in consequence of the suggestion in the novel.

If our writings had effected nothing else, we might still lay down our pen with pride and satisfaction: but they have done more, much more; and while they have amused the reader, they have improved the service: they have held up in their characters a mirror, in which those who have been in error may see their own deformity, and many hints which have been given have afterwards returned to the thoughts of those who have had an influence, have been considered as their own ideas, and have been acted upon. The conduct of Captain Tartar may be considered as a libel on the service— is it not? The fault of Captain Tartar was not in sending them on board, or even putting them in irons as deserters, although, under the circumstances he might have shown more delicacy. The fault was in stigmatising a young man as a swindler, and the punishment awarded to the error is intended to point out the moral, that such an abuse of power should be severely visited. The greatest error now in our service, is the disregard shown to the feelings of the junior officers in the language of their superiors: that an improvement has taken place I grant, but that it still exists, to a degree injurious to the service, I know too well. The articles of war, as our hero was informed by his captain, were equally binding on officers and crew; but what a dead letter do they become if officers are permitted to break them with impunity! The captain of a ship will turn the hands up to punishment, read the article of war for the transgressing of which the punishment is inflicted, and to show at that time their high respect for the articles of war, the captain and every officer take off their hats. The moment the hands are piped down, the second article of war, which forbids all swearing, &c., in derogation of God's honour is immediately disregarded. We are not strait-laced,—we care little about an oath as a mere
expletive;
we refer now to swearing at
others,
to insulting their feelings grossly by coarse and intemperate language. We would never interfere with a man for d——g his
own
eyes, but we deny the right of his d——g those of
another.

The rank of a master in the service is above that of a midshipman, but still the midshipman is a gentleman by birth, and the master, generally speaking, is not. Even at this moment, in the service, if the master were to d——n the eyes of a midshipman, and tell him that he was a liar, would there be any redress, or if so, would it be commensurate to the insult? If a midshipman were to request a court-martial, would it be granted? certainly not: and yet this is a point of more importance than may be conceived. Our service has been wonderfully improved since the peace, and those who are now permitted to enter it must be gentlemen. We know that even now there are many who cry out against this as dangerous, and injurious to the service; as if education spoilt an officer, and the scion of an illustrious house would not be more careful to uphold an escutcheon without blemish for centuries than one who has little more than brute courage; but those who argue thus are the very people who are injurious to the service, for they can have no other reason, except that they wish that the juniors may be tyrannised over with impunity.

Be it remembered that these are not the observations of a junior officer, smarting under insult—they are the result of deep and calm reflection. We have arrived to that grade, that, although we have the power to inflict, we are too high to receive insult, but we have not forgotten how our young blood has boiled when wanton, reckless, and cruel torture has been heaped upon our feelings, merely because, as a junior officer, we were not in a position to retaliate, or even to reply. And another evil is, that this
great error
is
disseminated.
In observing on it, in one of our works, called
Peter Simple,
we have put the following true observation in the mouth of O'Brien. Peter observes, in his simple, right-minded way—

“I should think, O'Brien, that the very circumstance of having had your feelings so often wounded by such language when you were a junior officer would make you doubly careful not to use it towards others, when you had advanced in the service.”

“Peter, that's just the first feeling, which wears away after a time, till at last your own sense of indignation, becomes blunted, and becomes indifferent to it: you forget, also, that you wound the feelings of others, and carry the habit with you, to the great injury and disgrace of the service.”

Let it not be supposed that in making these remarks we want to cause litigation, or insubordination. On the contrary, we assert that this error is the cause, and eventually will be much more the cause, of insubordination; for as the junior officers who enter the service are improved, so will they resist it. The complaint here is more against the officers than the captains, whose power has been perhaps already too much curtailed by late regulations: that power must remain, for although there may be some few who are so perverted as to make those whom they command uncomfortable, in justice to the service we are proud to assert, that the majority acknowledge, by their conduct, that the greatest charm attached to power is to be able to make so many people happy.

THE DAY after the funeral, H.M. ship
Aurora
sailed for Malta, and on her arrival the acting captain sent our two midshipmen on board the
Harpy
without any remark, except “victualled the day discharged,” as they had been borne on the ship's books as supernumeraries.

Mr James, who was acting in the
Aurora,
was anxious to join the Admiral at Toulon, and intended to sail the next day. He met Captain Wilson at the governor's table, and stated that Jack and Gascoigne had been put in irons by order of Captain Tartar; his suspicions, and the report, that the duel had in consequence taken place; but Gascoigne and Jack had both agreed that they would not communicate the events of their cruise to anybody on board of the
Aurora;
and therefore nothing else was known, except that they must have made powerful friends somehow or another; and there appeared in the conduct of Captain Tartar, as well as in the whole transaction, somewhat of a mystery.

“I should like to know what happened to my friend Jack, who fought the duel,” said the governor, who had laughed at it till he held his sides; “Wilson, do bring him here tomorrow morning, and let us have his story,”

“I am afraid of encouraging him, Sir Thomas, he is much too wild already. I told you of his first cruise. He has nothing but adventures, and they all end too favourably.”

“Well, but you can send for him here and blow him up just as well as in your own cabin, and then we will have the truth out of him.”

“That you certainly will,” replied Captain Wilson, “for he tells it plainly enough.”

“Well, to oblige me, send for him. I don't see he was much to blame in absconding, as it appears he thought he would be hung. I want to see the lad.”

“Well, governor, if you wish it,” replied Captain Wilson, who wrote a note to Mr Sawbridge, requesting he would send Mr Easy to him at the governor's house at ten o'clock in the morning.

Jack made his appearance in his uniform—he did not much care for what was said to him, as he was resolved to leave the service. He had been put in irons, and the iron had
entered into his soul.

Mr Sawbridge had gone on shore about an hour before Jack had been sent on board, and he had remained on shore all the night. He did not therefore see Jack but for a few minutes, and thinking it his duty to say nothing to him at first, or to express his displeasure, he merely observed to him that the captain would speak to him as soon as he came on board. As Gascoigne and our hero did not know how far it might be safe, even at Malta, to acknowledge to what occurred on board the speronare, which might get wind, they did not even tell their messmates, resolving only to confide it to the captain.

When Jack was ushered into the presence of the captain, he found him sitting with the governor, and the breakfast on the table ready for them. Jack walked in with courage, but respectfully. He was fond of Captain Wilson, and wished to show him respect. Captain Wilson addressed him, pointed out that he had committed a great error in fighting a duel—a greater error in demeaning himself by fighting the purser's steward, and still greater in running away from his ship. Jack looked respectfully to Captain Wilson, acknowledged that he had done wrong, and promised to be more careful another time, if Captain Wilson would look over it.

“Captain Wilson, allow me to plead for the young gentleman,” said the governor; “I am convinced that it has only been an error in judgment.”

“Well, Mr Easy, as you express your contrition, and the governor interferes in your behalf, I shall take no more notice of this. But recollect, Mr Easy, that you have occasioned me a great deal of anxiety by your mad pranks, and I trust another time you will remember that I am too anxious for your welfare not to be uncomfortable when you run such risks. You may now go on board to your duty, and tell Mr Gascoigne to do the same; and pray let us hear of no more duels or running away.”

Jack, whose heart softened at this kind treatment, did not venture to speak; he made his bow and was about to quit the room, when the governor said—

“Mr Easy, you have not breakfasted?”

“I have, sir,” replied Jack, “before I came on shore.”

“But a midshipman can always eat two breakfasts, particularly when his own comes first; so sit down and breakfast with us—it's all over now.”

“Even if it was not,” replied Captain Wilson, laughing, “I doubt whether it would spoil Mr Easy's breakfast. Come, Mr Easy, sit down.”

Jack bowed, and took his chair, and proved that his lecture had not taken away his appetite. When breakfast was over, Captain Wilson observed—

“Mr Easy, you have generally a few adventures to speak of when you return, will you tell the governor and me what has taken place since you left us?”

“Certainly, sir,” replied Jack; “but I venture to request that it may be under the promise of secrecy, for it's rather important to me and Gascoigne.”

“Yes, if secrecy is really necessary, my boy; but I'm the best judge of that,” replied the governor.

Jack then entered into a detail of his adventures, which we have already described, much to the astonishment of the governor and his captain, and concluded his narration by stating that he wanted to leave the service; he hoped that Captain Wilson would discharge him and send him home.

“Pooh, nonsense!” said the governor, “you shan't leave the Mediterranean while I am here. No, no—you must have more adventures, and come back and tell them to me. And recollect, my lad, that whenever you come to Malta, there is a bed at the governor's house, and a seat at his table, always ready for you.”

“You are very kind, Sir Thomas,” replied Jack, “but—”

“No buts at all, sir—you shan't leave the service! Besides, recollect that I can ask for leave of absence for you to go and see Donna Agnes. Ay, and send you there, too.”