Marmaduke Merry | Page 6

the moment and observed the deed.
"Come back, ye little thieving spalpeen," she cried angrily, rising and making sail in chase. She was very stout, and filled out with petticoats on either side. The wind was very strong from the south-west, and, knowing that it is easier to sail with a fair wind than a foul, off darted the little boy before it over Southsea common. He, however, compared to the old lady, was like a brig to a seventy-four, with the studding sails set alow and aloft, and she, with her wide expanded figure propelled onward, was rapidly gaining on the apple-loving culprit. She would have caught him to a certainty. Toby and I and Edkins ran on to see the result. An old admiral (so Edkins told me he was), taking his constitutional, stopped, highly enjoying the fun. He observed the cause of old Molly's rapid progress. His sympathies were excited for the urchin.
"Try her on a wind, boy; try her on a wind," he shouted, giving way to his feelings in loud laughter.
The boy took the hint, and coming about darted off to the westward. Molly attempted to follow, but her breath failed her; the hitherto favouring gale blew her back, and with anathemas on the head of the culprit, she gave up the pursuit, and returned panting to her stall.
"There's the price of your apples, Molly," said the admiral, as he passed, handing her a sixpence. "You have gained it for the fun you have afforded me."
"That 'ere little chap will come to the gallows some day, if he goes on like that," was the comment made by Toby.
"That's true, boy," observed Edkins. "People are apt to forget, if they are amused, whether a thing is right or wrong; white's white, and black's black, whatever you choose to call them."
I felt very sure, from what I saw of Edkins, that he would take good care of Toby. He left me at the George. The captain came at last. He was a broad-shouldered, thick-set man, not very tall, but with fair hair and a most pleasant expression of countenance. Frank, honest, and kind-hearted I was certain he was. He reminded me of my father, except that the squire had a fresh and he had a thoroughly saltwater look about him. We were joined at dinner by several officers, and among others by my fellow-passenger, who proved, as Edkins suspected, to be Mr Bryan, the second lieutenant of the Doris. He amused the company very much by an account of Mr Johnson's conversation with me.
"He is a very extraordinary fellow, that," said the captain. "He is a first-rate seaman, and thoroughly trustworthy in all professional matters; but I never met his equal for drawing the long bow. I knew him when I was a lieutenant, and could listen to his yarns."
The party laughed heartily at my account of the old applewoman and the little boy, and I felt wonderfully at my ease among so many big-wigs, and began to fancy myself a personage of no small importance. After dinner, however, Mr Bryan called me aside. "I must give you a piece of advice, youngster. I overheard your contest of wit with the boatswain, and I remarked the way you spoke to your superior officers at dinner. You are now in plain clothes, and the Captain's guest, but do not presume on their present freedom. You will find the drawing-room and the quarter-deck very different places. Sharpness and wit are very well at times, but modesty is never out of place." I thanked Mr Bryan, and promised to remember his advice.
The next day, with the assistance of the tailor, I got into my uniform, and, after I had had a little time to admire myself, and to wish that my mother and sisters could see me, Edkins appeared to take me and my traps on board. The frigate had gone out to Spithead, where one of England's proud fleets was collected. The gig was waiting at the point. I stepped into her with as much dignity as I could command and we pulled out of the harbour. When we got into the tide-way the boat began to bob about a good deal. I felt very queer. "Edkins, is this what you call a storm?" I asked, wishing the boat would be quiet again.
"Yes, in a wash-tub, Mister Merry. As like a storm as a tom-tit is to an albatross," he answered.
My astonishment at finding myself among the line-of-battle ships at Spithead was very great. What huge floating castles they appeared--what crowds of human beings there were on board, swarming in every direction, like ants round their nest. In a few moments a wonderful expansion of my ideas took place. Even our tight little frigate, as I had heard her called,