Luckily For Me, The Midshipman Of My Watch, Jack Johnson, Was A Trump, And A Smart Officer To Boot.

He was six years older than I, and, though thoroughly good-natured, was formidable enough from his strength and determination to have his will respected.

He became my patron and protector. Rightly, or wrongly I am afraid, he always took my part, made excuses for me to the officer of our watch if I were caught napping under the half-deck, or otherwise neglecting my duty. Sometimes he would even take the blame for this upon himself, and give me a 'wigging' in private, which was my severest punishment. He taught me the ropes, and explained the elements of seamanship. If it was very cold at night he would make me wear his own comforter, and, in short, took care of me in every possible way. Poor Jack! I never had a better friend; and I loved him then, God knows. He was one of those whose advancement depended on himself. I doubt whether he would ever have been promoted but for an accident which I shall speak of presently.

When we got into warm latitudes we were taught not only to knot and splice, but to take in and set the mizzen royal. There were four of us boys, and in all weathers at last we were practised aloft until we were as active and as smart as any of the ship's lads, even in dirty weather or in sudden squalls.

We had a capital naval instructor for lessons in navigation, and the quartermaster of the watch taught us how to handle the wheel and con.

These quartermasters - there was one to each of the three watches - were picked men who had been captains of tops or boatswains' mates. They were much older than any of the crew. Our three in the 'Blonde' had all seen service in the French and Spanish wars. One, a tall, handsome old fellow, had been a smuggler; and many a fight with, or narrow escape from, the coast-guard he had to tell of. The other two had been badly wounded. Old Jimmy Bartlett of my watch had a hole in his chest half an inch deep from a boarding pike. He had also lost a finger, and a bullet had passed through his cheek. One of his fights was in the 'Amethyst' frigate when, under Sir Michael Seymour, she captured the 'Niemen' in 1809. Often in the calm tropical nights, when the helm could take care of itself almost, he would spin me a yarn about hot actions, cutting-outs, press-gangings, and perils which he had gone through, or - what was all one to me - had invented.

From England to China round the Cape was a long voyage before there was a steamer in the Navy. It is impossible to describe the charm of one's first acquaintance with tropical vegetation after the tedious monotony unbroken by any event but an occasional flogging or a man overboard.

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