Sketches From My Life | Page 7

for other ports in the River Plate--a
somewhat arbitrary proceeding, and one certain to lead to
misunderstanding sooner or later.
On the occasion I refer to, a vessel which, though not under the English
flag, had in some way or other obtained English protection, was leaving
the port; so we sent an officer and a party of armed men to prevent her
being interfered with. I was of the party, which was commanded by our

second lieutenant. Our doing this gave great offence to the French
commander, who shortly after we had gone on board also sent a party
of armed men, with positive orders to search the vessel at all risks. On
our part we were ordered not to allow the vessel to be searched or
interfered with. The French officer, a fine young fellow, came on board
with his men and repeated his orders to Lieutenant C----. The vessel, I
may mention, was a schooner of perhaps a couple of hundred tons,
about 130 feet long. We had taken possession of the after-part of the
deck, the French crew established themselves on the fore-part.
Never was there a more awkward position. The men on both sides
loaded and cocked their muskets. The English and French officers
stood close to one another. The former said, 'Sir, you have no business
here, this vessel is under English protection. I give you five minutes to
leave or take the consequences.' The other replied, 'Sir, I am ordered to
search the vessel, and search her I will.' They both seemed to, and I am
sure did, mean business; for myself, I got close to my lieutenant and
cocked a pistol, intending to shoot the French officer at the least show
of fighting. Nevertheless, I thought it a shockingly cruel and inhuman
thing to begin a cold-blooded fight under such circumstances.
However, to obey orders is the duty of every man. Lieutenant C----
looked at his watch; two minutes to spare. The marines were ordered to
prepare, and I thought at the end of the two minutes the deck of the
little vessel would have been steeped in blood. Just then, in the distance,
there appeared a boat pulling towards us at full speed; it seems that
wiser counsels had prevailed between the captains of the two ships: the
French were told to withdraw and leave the vessel in our hands.
I was much amused at the cordial way in which the two lieutenants
shook hands on receiving this order. There would indeed have been a
fearful story to tell had it not arrived in time; for I never saw
determination written so strongly on men's countenances as on those of
both parties, so nearly engaged in what must have proved a most
bloody fight.
After this incident cordial relations were never re-established between
ourselves and our French friends; fortunately, shortly afterwards we

sailed for Buenos Ayres.
Buenos Ayres, that paradise of pretty women, good cheer, and all that
is nice to the sailor who is always ready for a lark! We at once went in
for enjoying ourselves to our heart's content; we began, every one of us,
by falling deeply in love before we had been there forty-eight hours--I
say every one, because such is a fact.
My respectable captain, who had been for many years living as a
confirmed bachelor with his only relative, an old spinster sister, with
whom he chummed, and I fancy had hardly been known to speak to
another woman, was suddenly perceived walking about the street with a
large bouquet in his hand, his hair well oiled, his coat (generally so
loose and comfortable-looking) buttoned tight to show off his figure;
and then he took to sporting beautiful kid gloves, and even to dancing.
He could not be persuaded to go on board at any cost, while he had
never left his ship before, except for an occasional day's shooting. In
short, he had fallen hopelessly in love with a buxom Spanish lady with
lustrous eyes as black as her hair, the widow of a murdered governor of
the town.
Our first and second lieutenants followed suit; both were furiously in
love; and, as I said, every one, even a married man, one of my
messmates, fell down and worshipped the lovely (and lovely they were,
and no mistake) Spanish girls of Buenos Ayres, whose type of beauty is
that which only the blue blood of Spain can boast of. Now, reader, don't
be shocked, I fell in love myself, and my love affair proved of a more
serious nature, at least in its results, than that of the others, because,
while the daughter (she was sixteen, and I seventeen) responded to my
affection, her mother, a handsome woman of forty, chose to fall in love
with