28. CHAPTER XXVIII.
RECEPTION FROM THE FRENCHMAN.
In a few moments, we were paraded in the frigate's gangway;
the first lieutenant—an elderly, yellow-faced officer, in an ill-cut
coat and tarnished gold lace—coming up, and frowning upon us.
This gentleman's head was a mere bald spot; his legs, sticks;
in short, his whole physical vigor seemed exhausted in the production
of one enormous moustache. Old Gamboge, as he was
forthwith christened, now received a paper from the consul;
and, opening it, proceeded to compare the goods delivered with
the invoice.
After being thoroughly counted, a meek little midshipman
was called, and we were soon after given in custody to half-a-dozen
sailor-soldiers—fellows with tarpaulins and muskets.
Preceded by a pompous functionary (whom we took for one of
the ship's corporals, from his ratan and the gold lace on his
sleeve), we were now escorted down the ladders to the berth-deck.
Here we were politely handcuffed, all round; the man with
the bamboo evincing the utmost solicitude in giving us a good
fit from a large basket of the articles of assorted sizes.
Taken by surprise at such an uncivil reception, a few of the
party demurred; but all coyness was, at last, overcome; and
finally our feet were inserted into heavy anklets of iron, running
along a great bar bolted down to the deck. After this,
we considered ourselves permanently established in our new
quarters.
“The deuse take their old iron!” exclaimed the doctor; “if
I'd known this, I'd stayed behind.”
“Ha, ha!” cried Flash Jack, “you're in for it, Doctor Long
Ghost.”
“My hands and feet are, any way,” was the reply.
They placed a sentry over us; a great lubber of a fellow,
who marched up and down with a dilapidated old cutlass of
most extraordinary dimensions. From its length, we had some
idea that it was expressly intended to keep a crowd in order—
reaching over the heads of half-a-dozen, say, so as to get a cut
at somebody behind.
“Mercy!” ejaculated the doctor with a shudder, “what a
sensation it must be to be killed by such a tool.”
We fasted till night, when one of the boys came along with
a couple of “kids” containing a thin, saffron-colored fluid, with
oily particles floating on top. The young wag told us this was
soup: it turned out to be nothing more than oleaginous warm
water. Such as it was, nevertheless, we were fain to make a
meal of it, our sentry being attentive enough to undo our
bracelets. The “kids” passed from mouth to mouth, and were
soon emptied.
The next morning, when the sentry's back was turned, some
one, whom we took for an English sailor, tossed over a few
oranges, the rinds of which we afterward used for cups.
On the second day nothing happened worthy of record. On
the third, we were amused by the following scene.
A man, whom we supposed a boatswain's mate, from the silver
whistle hanging from his neck, came below, driving before
him a couple of blubbering boys, and followed by a whole
troop of youngsters in tears. The pair, it seemed, were sent
down to be punished by command of an officer; the rest had
accompanied them out of sympathy.
The boatswain's mate went to work without delay, seizing
the poor little culprits by their loose frocks, and using a ratan
without mercy. The other boys wept, clasped their hands, and
fell on their knees; but in vain; the boatswain's mate only hit
out at them; once in a while making them yell ten times louder
than ever.
In the midst of the tumult, down comes a midshipman, who,
with a great air, orders the man on deck, and running in among
the boys, sets them to scampering in all directions.
The whole of this proceeding was regarded with infinite
scorn by Navy Bob, who, years before, had been captain of the
foretop on board a line-of-battle ship. In his estimation, it was
a lubberly piece of business throughout: they did things differently
in the English navy.
