Paul Gerrard | Page 2

"That remark smells of mutiny, youngster," exclaimed Noakes, with a
fierce glance towards the audacious midshipman.
"By the piper, but it's true, though," put in Paddy O'Grady, who had
also been deprived of the larger portion of his grog.
Most of the youngsters, on finding others inclined to stand up for their

rights, made common cause with Blake and O'Grady. Enraged at this,
Noakes threatened the malcontents with condign punishment.
"Yes, down with all mutiny and the rights of man or midshipmen,"
exclaimed in a somewhat sarcastic tone a good-looking youth, who
himself wore the uniform of a midshipman.
"Well said, Devereux. We must support the rights and dignity of the
oldsters, or the service will soon go to ruin," cried the old mate, whose
voice grew thicker as he emptied glass after glass of his favourite liquor.
"You show your sense, Devereux, and deserve your supper, but--there's
no beef on the table. Here boy--boy Gerrard--bring the beef; be smart
now--bring the beef. Don't stand staring there as if you saw a ghost."
The boy thus summoned was a fine lad of about fourteen, his shirt
collar thrown back showing his neck, which supported a well-formed
head, with a countenance intelligent and pleasant, but at that moment
very pale, with an expression denoting unhappiness, and a feeling of
dislike to, or dread of, those on whom he was waiting. A midshipmen's
boy has seldom a pleasant time of it under any circumstances. Boy
Gerrard, as he was called, did his best, though often unsuccessfully, to
please his numerous masters.
"Why do you stand there, staring like a stuffed pig?" exclaimed
Devereux, who was near the door. "It is the beef, not your calf's head
we want. Away now, be smart about it."
The sally produced a hoarse laugh from all those sufficiently sober to
understand a joke.
"The beef, sir; what beef?" asked boy Gerrard in a tone of alarm.
"Our beef," shouted old Noakes, heaving a biscuit at the boy's head. It
was fortunate that no heavy missile was in his hand. "Take that to
sharpen your wits."
Devereux laughed with others at the old mate's roughness. The boy
gave an angry glance at him as he hurried off to the midshipmen's

larder to execute the order.
Before long, boy Gerrard was seen staggering along the deck towards
the berth with a huge piece of salt beef in his hands, and endeavouring
to keep his legs as the frigate gave a heavy lurch or pitched forward, as
she forced her way over the tumultuous seas. Boy Gerrard gazed at the
berth of his many masters. He thought that he could reach it in another
run. He made the attempt, but it was down hill, and before he could
save himself he had shot the beef, though not the dish, into the very
centre of the table, whence it bounded off and hit O'Grady, the Irish
midshipman, a blow on the eye, which knocked him backward. Poor
Gerrard stood gazing into the berth, and prepared for the speedy
punishment which his past experience had taught him would follow.
"By the piper, but I'll teach you to keep a taughter gripe of the beef for
the future, you spalpeen," exclaimed O'Grady, recovering himself, and
about to hurl back the joint at the head of the unfortunate boy, when his
arm was grasped by Devereux, who cried out, laughing,--"Preserve the
beef and your temper, Paddy, and if boy Gerrard, after proper trial,
shall be found to have purposely hurled the meat at your wise caput, he
shall be forthwith delivered over to condign punishment."
"Oh, hang your sea-lawyer arguments; I'll break the chap's head, and
listen to them afterwards," cried O'Grady, attempting to spring up to
put his threat into execution.
Devereux again held him back, observing, "Break the boy's head if you
like; I have no interest in preserving it, except that we may not find
another boy to take his place; but you must listen to my arguments
before you commence operations."
"Hear, hear! lawyer Devereux is about to open his mouth," cried
several voices.
"Come, pass me the beef, and let me put some of it into my mouth,
which is open already," exclaimed Peter Bruff, another of the older
mates, who having just descended from the deck, and thrown off his
dripping outer coat, had taken his seat at the table. His hair and

whiskers were still wet with spray, his hands showed signs of service,
and his fine open countenance--full of good-nature, and yet expressive
of courage and determination, had a somewhat weather-worn
appearance, though his crisp, curling, light hair showed that he was still
in the early prime of manhood.
"Listen, gentlemen of the jury, and belay your jaw-tackles you who
have no business in the matter, and Bruff