"
This speech might have done very well to any person before the mast;
but as applied to an officer, I thought it rude and ungentlemanly.
The caterer had prepared lunch in the gun-room: it consisted of
beef-steaks and broiled bullocks' kidneys, with fried onions; and
their savoury smell rose in grateful steams up the skylight, and
assailed the nostrils of the skipper. His facetious small-talk knew
no bounds; he leaned over the frame, and, looking down, said--"I say,
something devilish good going on there below!"
The hint was taken, and the first lieutenant invited him down.
"I don't care if I do; I am rather peckish."
So saying, he was down the hatchway in the twinkling of one of his own
funny eyes, as he feared the choice bits would be gone before he could
get into action. We all followed him; and as he seated himself, he
said--
"I trust, gentlemen, this is not the last time I shall sit in the
gun-room, and that you will all consider my cabin as your own. I
love to make my officers comfortable: nothing more delightful than a
harmonious ship, where every man and boy is ready to go to h----l for
his officers. That's what I call good fellowship--give and take--make
proper allowances for one another's failings, and we shall be sorry
when the time comes for us to part. I am afraid, however, that I shall
not be long with you; for, though I doat upon the brig, the Duke
of N---- and Lord George ----, have given the first Lord a d----d
_whigging_ for not promoting me sooner; and, between ourselves, I
don't wish to go farther.
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