The Three Midshipmen. William Henry Giles Kingston
led by the monkey, was seen approaching the berth. Nuts and biscuits were held out. They were easily tempted in. Room was made for them, and they were regaled to their hearts’ content on all the delicacies of the season which the men could produce.
“We’ll have them again, and we’ll have a friend to meet them,” exclaimed Jack.
“A bright idea!”
“Who?” was asked.
“Pigeon,” said Jack; and so it was settled.
That afternoon Mr. Pigeon received a note written on pink scented paper, to the following effect:—
“The gentlemen of the midshipmen’s berth request the pleasure of Mr. Pigeon’s company at dinner, to meet two distinguished foreigners, in every way worthy of his acquaintance and friendship.”
Pigeon asked the gun-room officers whether he ought to accept the invitation.
“Certainly, it will be an insult if you don’t,” was the answer.
They might possibly have suspected that a joke was brewing, but they said nothing. The dinner-hour on the next day arrived. The berth was kept as dark as possible, and when Pigeon presented himself at the door he was ushered in in due form, and with unusual politeness handed to the upper end of the berth.
“Dinner!” cried the caterer. “Bear a hand, boy.”
The midshipman’s boy, who had been standing against the door, grinning from ear to ear, had to decamp.
“Before the soup comes, Mr. Pigeon, let me introduce our other guests—Señor Don Bruno, who is on your right side, and Monsieur de Querkerie, whom you will find on your left. Manners makes the man, and as their manners are unexceptionable, I hope that you will consider them as men, and treat them, as men should men, with due civility.”
The screens by the side of the berth were at this instant withdrawn, when Pigeon beheld a bear sitting on one side of him, and a monkey on the other, both dressed with huge shirt-collars, large ties, and broad ribbons across their breasts. Astonishment, rage, and fear struggled within for the mastery.
“Don’t be alarmed at their looks, my dear sir,” said Hemming. “There are no better behaved gentlemen on board. Allow me to help you to soup. Rogers, you take care of Monsieur de Querkerie; Thompson, see to Don Bruno.”
This was a necessary caution, for the monkey gave signs that he was about to thrust his paw into Pigeon’s plate, which act would have belied the assertion just made in his favour, and would certainly not have been pleasant to the human guest. Bruin, who had a handful of hard biscuit before him to munch, was behaving himself very well. Hemming kept serving out the soup with the greatest gravity amid roars of laughter, not a little increased by Pigeon’s perplexed countenance. What to do he could not decide. He felt that a joke was being played off on him, but he was too much afraid to resent it, or show his indignation, and therefore he did the very best thing he could have done under the circumstances, he went on eating his soup without speaking. All might have ended well had not Quirk, not understanding fully the proprieties of the dinner-table, darted out his paw and seized a lump of potato from the soup-plate. Pigeon could not stand this, but shoving the denied plate from him, he made a dash with his spoon at Quirk’s face, almost knocking some of his teeth down his throat. The monkey retaliated, and not without Jack’s utmost exertions could quiet be restored; I will not say peace or harmony, because that was out of the question.
“I beg pardon, Mr. Pigeon, we thought you might like the companionship of our foreign guests, as you are supposed to have some qualities in common,” said Hemming, in a grave tone. “But as you do not appear to admire their society, pray remove to the other side of the berth, where you will be more at your ease.”
Pigeon was glad enough of an excuse to get away, but he was puzzled to settle whether it was safer to pass the bear or the monkey. At length he decided to get behind the former. At that moment Bruin took it into his head to lift up his huge back, and catching poor Pigeon between the legs, he sent him right into the middle of the table, with his head into the soup-dish, while Quirk, delighted at the opportunity, caught hold of his heels, and getting a kick, sprang in revenge on the part of his body most exposed to attack, which he bit till the wretched victim roared with pain, and Jack had by main force hauled him off. Hemming and Murray, with others, as soon as their laughter would allow them, dragged Pigeon off the table, apologising with tears in their eyes for the mishap which had occurred. Pigeon’s first impulse was to roar out for a basin and towel to wash off the soup from his face; and when his features were made clean, though earnestly pressed to come back, nothing could persuade him to take his seat till Bruin and Quirk were removed from the berth. In truth the mess were not sorry to get rid of them, for to more than one sense they were somewhat unpleasant companions. All things considered, it was voted that Pigeon had really behaved very well, and the lesson he had received did him a great deal of good, and while he remained on board he seemed to think very much less of himself. I cannot defend the conduct of Hemming or Jack, or any one concerned in the affair, but my belief is, that had Pigeon not spoken disparagingly of Adair, whose memory Jack and Murray so fondly cherished, the trick would not have been played. Malta was visited, so were the Ionian Islands, and the frigate clove through the waters of the Levant.
“A sail in sight to leeward, sir,” said Jack, entering the cabin, cap in hand, one afternoon, while the captain was at dinner.
“What does she look like?” asked Captain Lascelles, applying his table-napkin to his mouth, and finishing his glass of wine as a man does when he has to move in a hurry, while he fumbles in his waistcoat-pocket for his toothpick case.
“The first lieutenant thinks her a heavy frigate, or a line-of-battle ship,” answered Jack, “and she is not English.”
In a moment the captain was on deck, and taking an earnest look at the stranger through his telescope. At that period all captains of English men-of-war had received orders to be very circumspect with regard to their conduct towards French ships, for there was no doubt that France was seeking cause by which she might pick a quarrel with England. The Racer had now been cruising for some time, and Captain Lascelles could not tell whether the stranger in sight might or might not prove an enemy with whom he might speedily be engaged in deadly strife. The wind was from the north, and the African coast, a thin blue line, was rising to sight in the horizon. The helm was instantly put up, and all sail made in chase.
“Hurrah!” exclaimed Jack, rushing into the berth, and throwing up his cap; “there’s a chance of a brush this time and no mistake. The gun-room officers say that the French are certain to be at war with us by this time. They are going to help Mehemet Ali, so if the stranger is not a Frenchman, she is pretty certain to be an Egyptian, and either one or the other will do.”
The information was received in the berth with general satisfaction. Only one person heard it with dismay. That was Pigeon. He turned very pale.
“What shall I do? Where shall I go?” he exclaimed. “I didn’t come here to fight. Couldn’t I be put on shore?”
“No, but you can keep below and help the doctor, where you may be of use and out of harm’s way, if we don’t go down, or blow up during the action,” said Murray, with no little disdain in the tone of his voice.
“Oh! oh!” groaned Pigeon. “Go down, or blow up! Oh, dear!”
Chapter Six.
Paddy Adair, Hurrah!
The beautiful frigate looked like a vast cloud of snowy whiteness, as, with studding-sails alow and aloft, she swept proudly along over the blue waters of the Mediterranean in chase of the stranger. The latter had been standing to the eastward; but seeing herself pursued, she also altered her course, and ran off before the wind towards the land. Night was coming on, and it was very important