Rattlin the Reefer Part 17

"And," roared out Captain Templar, "if you would but pa.s.s a single hour in her company--"

"You would a.s.suredly repent of your temerity," said the obstinate contagionist.

This confusion lasted about a quarter of an hour, a time sufficient, in all conscience, to invalide a West Indian regiment.

"Well, gentlemen," said Captain Reud, rising a little chafed, "have you come to a conclusion upon this very plain case? I see the doctor looks better already--his face is no longer pale."

"I tell you what," said the senior surgeon, rising abruptly with the others, "since you will neither listen to me, to reason, nor to my book, though I will not answer for the sanity of your mind, I will for that of your body. My duty, sir, my duty, will not permit me to invalide you."

"Never saw a healthier man in my life," said the second surgeon.

"Never mind, doctor," said the third, "we have fairly beaten them in the argument."

The gallant captains burst out into obstreperous laughter, and so the survey was broken up, and the princ.i.p.al surgeons declared that our poor doctor was in sound health, because they found him unsound in his opinions.

The three surgeons took their departure, the eldest saying with a grim smile to Thompson, "It may correct some errors, and prepare you for next invaliding day. Shall I send you my book, 'De Natura Pestium et Pestilentiarum?'"

The jolly doctor, with a smile equally grim, thanked him, and formally declined the gift, a.s.suring him "that at the present time, the s.h.i.+p was well stocked with emetics."

Now, the good doctor was a wag, and the captain, for fun, a very monkey.

The aspirant for invaliding sat himself down again at one end of the table, as the captains did at the other. Wine, anchovies, sandwiches, oysters, and other light and stimulating viands were produced to make a relis.h.i.+ng lunch. Captain Reud threw a triumphant and right merry glance across the table on the silent and discomfited doctor. The servant had placed before him a cover and gla.s.ses unbidden.

"Bring the doctor's plate," said the captain. The doctor was pa.s.sive-- the plate was brought, filled with luxuries, and placed directly under his nose. The temptation was terrible. He had been fasting and macerating himself for eight or nine days. He glared upon it with a gloomy longing. He then looked up wistfully, and a droll smile mantled across his vast face, and eddied in the holes of his deep pock-marks.

"A gla.s.s of wine, doctor?" The decanter was pushed before him, and his gla.s.s filled by the servant. The doctor shook his head and said, "I dare not, but will put it to my lips in courtesy."

He did so, and when the gla.s.s reached the table it was empty. He then began gradually to unwind his huge woollen comforter, and when he thought himself un.o.bserved, he stole the enc.u.mbrance into his ample coat-pocket. He next proceeded to toss about, with a careless abstraction, the large ma.s.ses of cold fowl and ham in his plate, and, by some unimaginable process, without the use of his knife he contrived to separate them into edible pieces. They disappeared rapidly, and the plate was almost as soon empty as the wine-gla.s.s.

The green shade, by some unaccountable accident, now fell from his eyes, and, instead of again fixing it on, it found its way to the pocket, to keep company with the comforter. Near him stood a dish of delicious oysters, the which he silently coaxed towards his empty plate, and sent the contents furtively down his much wronged throat.

The other gentlemen watched these operations with mute delight; and, after a s.p.a.ce, Captain Templar challenged him to a b.u.mper, which was taken and swallowed without much squeamishness. The doctor found that he had still a difficult task to play; he knew that his artifice was discovered, and that the best way to repair the error was to boldly throw off the transparent disguise. The presence of the two stranger captains was still a restraint upon him. At length he cast his eyes upon Captain Reud, and putting into his countenance the drollest look of deprecation mingled with fun, said plaintively, "Are we friends, Captain Reud?"

"The best in the world, doctor," was the quick reply, and he rose and extended his open hand. Doctor Thompson rose also and advanced to the head of the table, and they shook hands most heartily. The two other captains begged to do the same, and to congratulate him on his rapid convalescence.

"To prove to you, doctor, the estimation in which I hold you, you shall dine with us, and we'll have a night of it," said the skipper.

"Oh! Captain Reud, Captain Reud, consider--really I cannot get well so fast as that would indicate."

"You must, you must. Gentlemen, no man makes better punch. Consider the punch, doctor."

"Truly, that alters the case. As these dolts of surgeons could not fully understand the diagnostics of my disease, I suppose I must do my duty for the _leetle_ while longer that I have to live. I _will_ do my duty, and attend you punctually at five o'clock, in order to see that there be no deleterious ingredients mingled in the punch." Saying which he bowed and left the cabin, without leaning on the shoulder of either of his a.s.sistants.

But he had yet the worst ordeal to undergo--to brave the attack of his messmates--and he did it n.o.bly. They were all a.s.sembled in the ward-room; for those that saw him descend, if not there before, went immediately and joined him. He waddled to the head of the table, and when seated, exclaimed in a stentorian voice, "Steward, a gla.s.s of half-and-half. Gentlemen, I presume you do not understand a medical case. Steward, bring my case of pistols and the cold meat. I say, you do not understand a medical case."

"But we do yours," interrupted two or three voices at once.

"No, you don't; you may understand that case better," shoving his long-barrelled Manton duellers on to the middle of the table. "Now, gentlemen--I do not mean to bully--I am only, G.o.d help me, a weak civil arm of the service,"--and whining a little--"still very far from well.

Now I'll state my case to you, for your satisfaction, and to prevent any little mistakes. I was lately afflicted with a sort of nondescript atrophy, a stagnation of the fluids, a congestion of the small blood-vessels, and a spasmodic contraction of the finitesimal nerves, that threatened very serious consequences. At the survey, two of the surgeons, ignorant quacks that they are, broached a most ridiculous opinion--a heterodox doctrine--a d.a.m.nable heresy. On hearing it, my indignation was so much roused, that a reaction took place in my system, as instantaneous as the effects of a galvanic battery. My vital energies rallied, the stagnation of my fluids ceased, the small blood-vessels that had mutinied returned to their duty; and I am happy to say, that, though now far from enjoying good health, I am rapidly approaching it. That is my case. Now for yours. As, gentlemen, we are to be cooped up in this wooden enclosure for months, perhaps years, it is a duty that we owe to ourselves to promote the happiness of each other by good temper, politeness, mutual forbearance, and kindness. In none of these shall you find me wanting, and to prove it, I will say this much--singular cases will call forth singular remarks; you must be aware that if such be dwelt on too long, they will become offensive to me, and disturb that union which I am so anxious to promote. So let us have done with the subject at once--make all your remarks now--joke, quiz, jeer, and flaunt, just for one half hour,"--taking out his watch, and laying it gently on the table--"by that time I shall have finished my lunch, which, by-the-by, I began in the cabin; there will be sufficient time for you to say all your smart things on the occasion; but if after that I hear any more on the subject, by heavens, that man who shall dare to twit me with it, shall go with me to the nearest sh.o.r.e if in harbour--or shoot me, or I him, across the table at sea. Now, gentlemen, begin if you please."

"The devil a word will I ever utter on the matter," said Farmer, "and there's my hand upon it."

"Nor I."

"Nor I."

And every messmate shook him heartily by the hand, and by them the subject was dropped, and for ever. That evening Dr Thompson made the captain's punch, having carefully locked up in his largest tea-chest his invaliding suit.

Whatever impression this anecdote may make on the reader, if it be one injurious to the doctor, we beg to tell him, that he proved a very blessing to the s.h.i.+p,--the kind friend, as well as the skilful and tender physician, the promoter of every social enjoyment, the soother of conflicting pa.s.sions, the interceder for the offending, and the peace-maker for all.

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.

PAVING-STONES SOMETIMES PROVE STUMBLING-BLOCKS--A DISQUISITION ON THE FIGURATIVE, ENDS BY RALPH FIGURING AT THE MAST-HEAD, THUS EXTENDING HIS VIEWS UPON THE SUBJECT.

The next morning at daylight we weighed, and, by the aid of much firing of guns, and the display of unmeasured bunting, we got the whole of the convoy out of the cove by noon, with two men-of-war brigs bringing up the rear. Shortly after losing sight of land, bad weather came on, in which poor Gubbins was drowned, as I have before narrated.

By the time that we had reached Madeira, the s.h.i.+p's company had settled into good order, and formed that concentrated principle which enabled them to act as one man. It was a young and a fine crew, made up of drafts of twenties and thirties from different vessels, thanks to the nepotism of the treasurer of the navy.

We also began to understand each other's characters, and to study the captain's. Mischief was his besetting sin. Naturally malignant he was not, but inconsiderate to a degree that would make you think that his heart was really bad. One of his greatest pleasures was that of placing people in awkward and ludicrous situations. He very soon discovered the fattest men among the masters of the merchant vessels; and, when we had run far enough to the southward to make sitting in an open boat very unpleasant, he would in light winds, make a signal for one of his jolly friends to come on board, the more especially if he happened to be far astern. Then began Captain Reud's enjoyment. After two hours' hard pulling, the master would be seen coming up astern, wiping his brows, and, when within hail, Reud would shout to him to give away--and, just as he reached the stern ladder, the main-topsail of the frigate would be s.h.i.+vered, and the boat again be left half a mile astern. Another attempt, and another failure, the captain meanwhile gloating over the poor man's misery with the suppressed chuckle of delight, in which you would fancy a monkey to indulge after he had perpetrated some irreparable mischief.

However, he would generally tease his victim no longer than dinner-time.

The s.h.i.+p would then be effectively hove-to, the half-melted skipper would get on board, and the captain receive him with studied politeness.

Much would I admire the gravity with which he would deplore the impossibility of stopping his Majesty's s.h.i.+p _Eos_ by anything short of an anchor and good holding ground. No, she would not be hove-to--go a-head or go astern she must--but stand still she could not. During this harangue, the mystified mariner would look at his commodore, much wondering which of the two was the fool.

"But, Mister Stubbs," the tormentor would continue, "it is now nearly six bells--you have not dined, I presume; how long have you been making this little distance, Mister Stubbs?" with a slow accent on the word Mister. "Six hours!--bless me--I would certainly rope's--end those lubbers in your boat. You _must_ be hungry--so must they, poor fellows!

Here, Mr Rattlin, call them up, put a boat-keeper in the boat, and let her drop astern--tell my steward to give them a good tuck--out and a gla.s.s of grog. Mister Stubbs, you'll dine with me;" and the affair would end by the gratified hoaxed one being sent on board his own vessel about the end of twilight, seeing more stars in the heavens than astronomers have yet discovered.

But these skippers were, though very plump, but very humble game for our yellow-skinned tormentor. He nearly drove the third lieutenant mad, and that by a series of such delicate persecutions, annoyances so artfully veiled, and administered in a manner so gentlemanly, that complaint on the part of the persecuted, instead of exciting commiseration, covered him with ridicule. This officer was a Portuguese n.o.bleman of the name of Silva--the Don we could never bring our English mouths to use--who had entered our service at a very early age, and consequently spoke our language as naturally as ourselves. He was surnamed the "Paviour," and, when off duty, generally so addressed. It must not be supposed that he acquired this soubriquet on account of the gentlemen in corduroys laying by their hammers when he walked the street, bidding G.o.d bless him, for he was a very light and elegant figure, and singularly handsome. At this time I was the youngster of his watch, and a great favourite with him. The misfortune of his life was, that he had written a book--only one single sin--but it never left him,--it haunted him through half the s.h.i.+ps in the service, and finally drove him out of it. He had written this book, and caused it to be printed--and he _published_ it also, for n.o.body else could. His bookseller had tried, and failed lamentably.

Now, Don Silva was always publis.h.i.+ng, and never selling. His cabin was piled up with several ill-conditioned cases of great weight, which cases laboured under the abominable suspicion of containing the unsold copies.

As much as ever I could learn of the matter, no one ever got farther than the middle of the second page of this volume, excepting the printer's devils, the corrector of the press, and the author. The book was lent to me, but, great reader as I am, I broke down in attempting to pa.s.s the impa.s.sible pa.s.sage. The book might have been a good book, for aught I, or the world, knew to the contrary: but there was a fatality attending this particular part that was really enough to make one superst.i.tious--n.o.body could break the charm, and get over it. I wish that the thought had occurred to me at that time of beginning it at the end, and reading it backwards; surely, in that manner, the book might have been got through. It was of a winning exterior, and tolerable thickness. Never did an unsound nut look more tempting to be cracked, than this volume to be opened and read. It had for its t.i.tle the imposing sentence of, "A Naval and Military _Tour up and down_ the Rio de la Plate, by Don Alphonso Ribidiero da Silva."

I have before stated that my s.h.i.+pmates were all strangers to each other.

We had hardly got things to rights after leaving Cork, when Mr Silva began, "as was his custom in the afternoon," to _publish_ his book. He begged leave to read it to his messmates after dinner, and leave was granted. With bland frankness, he insisted upon the opinions of the company as he proceeded. He began--but the wily purser at once started an objection to the first sentence--yea, even to the t.i.tle. He begged to be enlightened as to what sort of _tour_ that was that merely went _up_ and _down_. However, the doctor came at this crisis to the a.s.sistance of the Don, and suggested that the river might have _turns_ in it. The reader sees how critical we are in a man-of-war.

However, in the middle of the second page appeared the fatal pa.s.sage, "After having _paved_ our way up the _river_;" upon which, issue was immediately joined, and hot argument ensued. The objector, of course, was the purser; and, on this point, the doctor went over to the enemy.

All the lieutenants followed, the master stood neuter, and the marine officer fell asleep--thus poor Silva stood alone in his glory, to fight the unequal battle; and in doing so, after the manner of authors, lost his temper.

Five, six, seven times was the book begun, but, like the hackney coaches, the audience could not get off the stones. The book and the discussion were always closed together in anger, just as the author was _paving his way_. As he adopted the phrase with a parental fondness, the father was called the "_paviour_."

All this duly reached the ears of the captain. He immediately wrote to Don Silva, requesting his company to dinner, particularly soliciting him to bring his excellent work. Of course, the little man took care to have the doctor and purser. The claret is on the table, the Amphytrion settles himself into a right critical att.i.tude, but with a most suspicious leer in the corner of his eye. Our friend begins to read his book exultingly, but, at the memorable pa.s.sage, as was previously concerted, the hue and cry is raised.

During the janging of argument Reud seems undecided, and observes that he can only judge the matter from well understanding the previous style and the context, and so, every now and then, requests him, with a most persuasive politeness, to begin again from the beginning. Of course, he gets no farther than the paving. After the baited author had re-read his page-and-a-half about six or seven times, the captain smiles upon him lovingly, and says in his most insinuating tones, "Just read it over again once more, and we shall never trouble you after--we shall know it by heart."

As it was well understood that the author was never to get beyond that pa.s.sage until he had acknowledged it absurd and egregiously foolish, anybody who knows anything about the _genus irritabile_ will be certain, that if he lived till "the crack of doom," Don Silva would never have pa.s.sed the Rubicon. It was thus that the poor fellow was tormented: and every time that he was asked to dine in the cabin, he was requested to bring his Tour, in order that the _whole_ of it might be read.

The best and most imposing manner of writing is, to lay down some wise dogma, and afterwards prove it by example. I shall follow this august method. It is unwise for a mids.h.i.+pman to argue with the lieutenant of the watch, whilst there are three lofty mastheads unoccupied. QED.