My First Voyage to Southern Seas | Page 3

to have a look at him, and they were none of them chary of
their expressions of admiration.
It was some days after this before all the multifarious contents of the
chest were ready, and then came the parting day. That was a very sad
one to our mother and elder sisters. I did not fully realise the fact that
we were to be parted till he had actually gone, so my sorrow did not
begin till I found his place empty, and had to go about by myself
without his genial companionship. Our father took him down to
Portsmouth, where he was to join his ship, the Aurora frigate, destined
for the East India station, and our second brother Herbert accompanied
him. Herbert was delicate, and required a change of scene and air. I
longed to have gone too, but our father could not take both of us. My
great desire was to see a large ship, a real man-of-war. I knew very well
what a vessel was like, for I had seen numbers in the Thames, and one
of Alfred's great pleasures was to take me with him to Greenwich
Hospital, and to sit down on the benches and to watch the vessels

sailing up and down the river, while we talked with the old pensioners,
who were always ready to spin some of their longest yarns for our
edification, though older people who went down there for the purpose
found no little difficulty in getting anything out of them. This was not
surprising. The old sailors found in us attentive and undoubting
listeners. We never thought of even questioning them to let them
suspect that we had not the most perfect reliance on what they said,
which older people were apt to do, I observed, for the purpose of
gaining more information from them. The old tars were either offended,
from suspecting that their words were doubted, or fancied that their
interrogators had some sinister motives in putting such questions, and,
from an early habit of suspicion in all such instances, would shut up
their mouths, and seem to have forgotten all about their early lives.
In the way I have mentioned, both Alfred and I gained a great deal of
information about the sea and life in the navy, so that when he went
afloat he was not nearly as ignorant as are many youngsters. In one
respect, however, he had gained, unfortunately, no good from his
intercourse with the old sailors. He had deeply imbibed many of the
worst prejudices about the navy which even some old men-of-war's
men retain to the present day, and he was taught to look upon all
superior officers in the service as cruel and unjust tyrants, whom it was
spirited to disobey when practicable, and ingenious to circumvent in
every possible way. His feeling, in short, was very much that which
schoolboys have for the ordinary run of masters whom they do not
exactly detest for any unusual severity, but for whom they certainly do
not entertain any undue affection. When he first received his
appointment, he had forgotten all about this feeling; indeed, he had
never expressed himself strongly on the matter; only I know that it
existed. I mention it now as it accounted to me in some degree for his
subsequent conduct.
When our father came back he gave a vivid description of the smart
frigate in which dear Alfred was to sail, of the gentlemanly, pleasant
captain, and of the nice lads in the midshipmen's berth who were to be
his companions. The first lieutenant, he remarked, was a stern-looking,
weather-beaten sailor of the old school, but he had the repute of being a

first-rate officer, and the captain had told him that he was very glad to
get him, as he was sure to make all the youngsters learn and do their
duty, and to turn them into good seamen. Altogether, he was perfectly
satisfied with all he had seen, and with Alfred's prospects.
Herbert's description of the midshipmen's berth made me regret more
and more that I had not been allowed to accompany him, and I began to
wish that I too might be able to go to sea. I did not talk about it; indeed,
I tried to repress the feeling, because I knew that my father wished me
to be brought up to his business. Herbert, it was seen, was not at all
likely ever to become fitted for it. His health was delicate, and he was
of a contemplative studious disposition, and of a simple trusting mind,
which had a tendency to shut out from itself all thoughts or knowledge
of the evil which exists in the world. This is, I believe, a very blessed
and happy disposition, if rightly directed and