But, not to summer and winter on this very unforeseen come-to-pass, the Captain and I went to the minister, and there made a confession of the whole tot of the story. Upon which he advised the Captain to leave Billy with Miss Peggy, who was a single lady, not ill-off in the world; and he would, from time to time, see that justice was done to the bairn. They then made a paction concerning Billy’s education; and, after a sore struggle, Miss Peggy, by the minister’s exhortation, was brought to consent that her pet should be sent to a boarding-school, on condition that she was to be allowed to pay for him.
This was not difficult to be agreed to; and, some weeks after, Bill was accordingly sent to the academy at Green Knowes, where he turned out a perfect delight; and Miss Peggy sent him every week, by the carrier, a cake, or some other dainty. At last, the year ran round, and the vacance being at hand, Bill sent word by the carrier, that he was coming home to spend the time with Mamma, as he called Miss Peggy. Great was her joy at the tidings; she set her house in order, and had, at least, twenty weans, the best sort in the neighbourhood, for a ploy to meet him. But, och hone! when Billy came, he was grown such a big creature, that he no longer seemed the same laddie; and, at the sight of him, Miss Peggy began to weep and wail, crying, that it was an imposition they were attempting to put upon her, by sending another callan. However, she became, in the course of the night, pretty well convinced that he was indeed her pet; and, from that time, though he was but eight years old, she turned over a new leaf in her treatment.
Nothing less would serve her, seeing him grown so tall, than that he should be transmogrified into a gentleman; and, accordingly, although he was not yet even a stripling – for that’s a man-child in his teens – she sent for a taylor next day and had him put into long clothes, with top boots; and she bought him a watch, and just made him into a curiosity, that nowhere else could be seen.
When he was dressed in his new clothes and fine boots, he went out to show himself to all Miss Peggy’s neighbours; and, it happened, that, in going along, he fell in with a number of other childer, who were sliding down a heap of mixed lime, and the thoughtless brat joined them; by which he rubbed two holes in the bottom of his breeks, spoiled his new boots, and, when the holes felt cold behind, he made his hat into a seat, and went careering up the heap and down the slope with it, as if he had been a charioteer.
Everybody who saw the result concluded that certainly now Miss Peggy’s favour was gone from him for ever. But she, instead of being angry, just exclaimed and demonstrated with gladness over him; saying, that, till this disaster, she had still suspected that he might turn out an imposture. Was there ever such infatuation? But, as I shall have to speak more anent him hereafter, I need not here say how he was sent back to the academy, on the minister’s advice, just dress’d like another laddie.
Frederick Marryat
South West and by West three-quarters West
Jack Littlebrain was, physically considered, as fine grown, and moreover as handsome a boy as ever was seen, but it must be acknowledged that he was not very clever. Nature is, in most instances, very impartial; she has given plumage to the peacock, but, as every one knows, not the slightest ear for music. Throughout the feathered race it is almost invariably the same; the homeliest clad are the finest songsters. Among animals the elephant is certainly the most intelligent, but, at the same time, he cannot be considered as a beauty. Acting upon this well ascertained principle, nature imagined, that she had done quite enough for Jack when she endowed him with such personal perfection; and did not consider it was at all necessary that he should be very clever; indeed, it must be admitted not only that he was not very clever, but (as the truth must be told) remarkably dull and stupid. However, the Littlebrains have been for a long while a well-known, numerous, and influential family, so that, if it were possible that Jack could have been taught any thing, the means were forthcoming: he was sent to every school in the country; but it was in vain; at every following vacation, he was handed over from the one pedagogue to the other, of those whose names were renowned for the Busbian system of teaching by stimulating both ends: he was horsed every day and still remained an ass, and at the end of six months, if he did not run away before that period was over, he was invariably sent back to his parents as incorrigible and unteachable. What was to be done with him? The Littlebrains had always got on in the world, somehow or another, by their interest and connections; but here was one who might be said to have no brains at all. After many pros and cons, and after a variety of consulting letters had passed between the various members of his family, it was decided, that as his maternal uncle, Sir Theophilus Blazers, G.C.B., was at that time the second in command in the Mediterranean, he should be sent to sea under his command; the Admiral, having in reply to a letter on the subject, answered that it was hard indeed if he did not lick him into some shape or another; and that, at all events, he’d warrant that Jack should be able to box the compass before he had been three months nibbling the ship’s biscuit; further, that it was very easy to get over the examination necessary to qualify him for lieutenant, as a turkey and a dozen of brown stout sent in the boat with him on the passing day, as a present to each of the passing captains, would pass him, even if he were as incompetent as a camel (or, as they say at sea, a cable,) to pass through the eye of a needle; that having once passed, he would soon have him in command of a fine frigate, with a good nursing first lieutenant; and that if he did not behave himself properly, he would make his signal to come on board of the flag-ship, take him into the cabin, and give him a sound horsewhipping, as other admirals have been known to inflict upon their own sons under similar circumstances. The reader must be aware that, from the tenour of Sir Theophilus’s letter, the circumstances which we are narrating must have occurred some fifty years ago.
When Jack was informed that he was to be a midshipman, he looked up in the most innocent way in the world, (and innocent he was, sure enough,) turned on his heels, and whistled as he went for want of thought. For the last three months he had been at home, and his chief employment was kissing and romping with the maids, who declared him to be the handsomest Littlebrain that the country had ever produced. Our hero viewed the preparations made for his departure with perfect indifference, and wished every body good-by with the utmost composure. He was a happy, good-tempered fellow who never calculated, because he could not; never decided, for he had not wit enough to choose; never foresaw, although he could look straight before him; and never remembered, because he had no memory. The line, ‘If ignorance is bliss, ’tis folly to be wise,’ was certainly made especially for Jack: nevertheless he was not totally deficient: he knew what was good to eat or drink, for his taste was perfect, his eyes were very sharp, and he could discover in a moment if a peach was ripe on the wall; his hearing was quick, for he was the first in the school to detect the footsteps of his pedagogue; and he could smell any thing savoury nearly a mile off, if the wind lay the right way. Moreover, he knew that if he put his fingers in the fire that he would burn himself; that knives cut severely; that birch tickled, and several other little axioms of this sort which are generally ascertained by children at an early age, but which Jack’s capacity had not received until at a much later date. Such as he was, our hero went to sea; his stock in his sea-chest being very abundant, while his stock of ideas was proportionally small.
We will pass over all the trans-shipments of Jack until he was eventually shipped on board of the Mendacious, then lying at Malta with the flag of Sir Theophilus Blazers at the fore – a splendid ship, carrying 120 guns, and nearly 120 midshipmen of different calibers. (I pass over captain, lieutenant, and ship’s company, having made mention of her most valuable qualifications.) Jack was received with a hearty welcome by his uncle, for he came in pudding-time, and was invited to dinner; and the Admiral made the important discovery, that if his nephew was a fool in other points, he was certainly no fool at his knife and fork. In a short time his messmates found out that he was no fool at his fists, and his
knock-down arguments ended much disputation. Indeed, as the French would say, Jack was perfection in the physique, although so very deficient in the morale.
But if Pandora’s box proved a plague to the whole world, Jack had his individual portion of it, when he was summoned to box the compass by his worthy uncle Sir Theophilus Blazers; who in the course of six months discovered that he could not make his nephew box it in the three, which he had warranted in his letter; every day our hero’s ears were boxed, but the compass never. It required all the cardinal virtues to teach him the cardinal points during the forenoon, and he made a point of forgetting them before the sun went down. Whenever they attempted it (and various were the teachers employed to drive the compass into Jack’s head) his head drove round the compass; and try all he could, Jack never could compass it. It appeared, as some people are said only to have one idea, as if Jack could only have one point in his head at a time, and to that point he would stand like a well-broken pointer. With him the wind never changed until the next day. His uncle pronounced him to be a fool, but that did not hurt his nephew’s feelings; he had been told so too often already.
I have said that Jack had a great respect for good eating and drinking, and, moreover, was blessed with a good appetite: every person has his peculiar fancies, and if there was any thing which more titillated the palate and olfactory nerves of our hero, it was a roast goose with sage and onions. Now it so happened, that having been about seven months on board of the Mendacious, Jack had one day received a summons to dine with the Admiral, for the steward had ordered a roast goose for dinner, and knew not only that Jack was partial to it, but also that Jack was the Admiral’s nephew, which always goes for something on board of a flag-ship. Just before they were sitting down to table, the Admiral wishing to know how the wind was, and having been not a little vexed with the slow progress of his nephew’s nautical acquirements, said, ‘Now, Mr Littlebrain, go up, and bring me down word how the wind is; and mark me, as, when you are sent, nine times out of ten you make a mistake, I shall now bet you five guineas against your dinner, that you make a mistake this time: so now be off and we will soon ascertain whether you lose your dinner or I lose my money. Sit down, gentlemen; we will not wait for Mr Littlebrain.’
Jack did not much admire this bet on the part of his uncle, but still less did he like the want of good manners in not waiting for him. He had just time to see the covers removed, to scent a whiff of the goose, and was off.
‘The Admiral wants to know how the wind is, sir,’ said Jack to the officer of the watch.
The officer of the watch went to the binnacle, and setting the wind as nearly as he could, replied, ‘Tell Sir Theophilus that it is S. W. and by W. ¾ W.’
‘That’s one of those confounded long points that I never can remember,’ cried Jack, in despair.
‘Then you’ll “get goose,” as the saying is,’ observed one of the midshipmen.
‘No; I’m afraid that I sha’n’t get any,’ replied Jack, despondingly. ‘What did he say, S. W. and by N. ¾ E.?’
‘Not exactly,’ replied his messmate, who was a good-natured lad, and laughed heartily at Jack’s version. ‘S. W. and by W. ¾ W.’
‘I never can remember it,’ cried Jack. ‘I’m to have five guineas if I do, and no dinner if I don’t; and if I stay here much longer, I shall get no dinner at all events, for they are all terribly peckish, and there will be none left.’
‘Well, if you’ll give me one of the guineas, I’ll show you how to manage it,’ said the midshipman.
‘I’ll give you two, if you’ll only be quick and the goose a’n’t all gone,’ replied Jack.
The midshipman wrote down the point from which the wind blew, at full length, upon a bit of paper, and pinned it to the rim of Jack’s hat. ‘Now,’ said he, ‘when you go into the cabin, you can hold your hat so as to read it, without their perceiving you.’
‘Well, so I can; I never should have thought of that,’ said Jack.
‘You hav’n’t wit enough,’ replied the midshipman.
‘Well, I see no wit in the compass,’ replied Jack.
‘Nevertheless, it’s full of point,’ replied the midshipman; ‘now be quick.’
Our hero’s eyes served him well, if his memory was treacherous; and as he entered the cabin door he bowed over his hat very politely, and said, as he read it off, ‘S. W. and by W. ¾ W.,’ and then he added, without reading at all, ‘if you please, Sir Theophilus.’
‘Steward,’ said the Admiral, ‘tell the officer of the watch to step down.’
‘How’s the wind, Mr Growler?’
‘S. W. and by W. ¾ W.’ replied the officer.
‘Then, Mr Littlebrain, you have won your five guineas, and may now sit down and enjoy your dinner.’
Our hero was not slow in obeying the order, and ventured, upon the strength of his success, to send his plate twice for goose. Having eaten their dinner, drunk their wine, and taken their coffee, the officers, at the same time, took the hint which invariably accompanies the latter beverage, made their bows and retreated. As Jack was following his seniors out of the cabin, the Admiral put the sum which he had staked into his hands, observing, that ‘it was an ill wind that blew nobody good.’
So thought Jack, who, having faithfully paid the midshipman the two guineas for his assistance, was now on the poop keeping his watch, as midshipmen usually do; that is, stretched out on the signal lockers, and composing himself to sleep after the most approved fashion, answering the winks of the stars by blinks of his eyes, until at last he shut them to keep them warm. But, before he had quite composed himself, he thought of the goose and the five guineas. The wind was from the same quarter, blowing soft and mild; Jack laid in a sort of reverie, as it fanned his cheek, for the weather was close and sultry.
‘Well,’ muttered Jack to himself, ‘I do love that point of the compass, at all events, and I think that I never shall forget S. W. and by W. ¾ W. No I never – never liked one before, though—’
‘Is that true?’ whispered a gentle voice in his ear; ‘do you love “S. W. and by W. ¾ W.,” and will you, as you say, never forget her?’
‘Why, what’s that?’ said Jack, opening his eyes, and turning half round on his side.
‘It’s me – “S. W. and by W. ¾ W.,” that you say you love.’
Littlebrain raised himself and looked round; – there was no one on the poop except himself and two or three of the after-guard, who were lying down between the guns.
‘Why, who was it that spoke?’ said Jack, much astonished.
‘It was the wind you love, and who has long loved you,’ replied the same voice; ‘do you wish to see me?’
‘See you, – see the wind? – I’ve been already sent on that message by the midshipmen,’ thought Jack.
‘Do you love me as you say, and as I love you?’ continued the voice.
‘Well, I like you better than any other point of the compass, and I’m sure I never thought I should like one of them,’ replied Jack.
‘That will not do for me; will you love only me?’
‘I’m not likely to love the others,’ replied Jack, shutting his eyes again; ‘I hate them all.’
‘And love me?’
‘Well, I do love you, that’s a fact,’ replied Jack, as he thought of the goose and the five guineas.
‘Then look round, and you shall see me,” said the soft voice.
Jack, who hardly knew whether he was asleep or awake, did at this summons once more take the trouble to open his eyes, and beheld a fairy female figure, pellucid as water, yet apparently possessing substance; her features were beautifully soft and mild, and her outline trembled and shifted as it were, waving gently to and fro. It smiled sweetly, hung over him, played with his chestnut curls, softly touched his lips with her own, passed her trembling fingers over his cheeks, and its warm breath appeared as if it melted into his. Then it grew more bold, – embraced his person, searched into his neck and collar, as if curious to examine him.
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Jack felt a pleasure and gratification which he could not well comprehend: once more the charmer’s lips trembled upon his own, now remaining for a moment, now withdrawing, again returning to kiss and kiss again, and once more did the soft voice put the question, –
‘Do you love me?’
‘Better than goose,’ replied Jack.
‘I don’t know who goose may be,’ replied the fairy form, as she tossed about Jack’s waving locks; ‘you must love only me, promise me that before I am relieved.’
‘What, have you got the first watch, as well as me?’ replied Jack.
‘I am on duty just now, but I shall not be so long. We southerly winds are never kept long in one place; some of my sisters will probably be sent here soon.’
‘I don’t understand what you talk about,’ replied Jack. ‘Suppose you tell me who you are, and what you are, and I’ll do all I can to keep awake; I don’t know how it is, but I’ve felt more inclined to go to sleep since you have been fanning me about, than I did before.’
‘Then I will remain by your side while you listen to me. I am, as I told you, a wind—’
‘That’s puzzling,’ said Jack, interrupting her.
‘My name is “S. W. and by W. ¾ W.” ’
‘Yes, and a very long name it is. If you wish me to remember you, you should have had a shorter one.’
This ruffled the wind a little, and she blew rather sharp into the corner of Jack’s eye, – however, she proceeded, –
‘You are a sailor, and of course you know all the winds on the compass by name.’
‘I wish I did; but I don’t,’ replied Littlebrain, ‘I can recollect you, and not one other.’
Again the wind trembled with delight on his lips, and she proceeded: – ‘You know that there are thirty-two points on the compass, and these points are divided into quarters; so that there are, in fact, 128 different winds.’
‘There are more than I could ever remember; I know that,’ said Jack.
The Penguin Book of the British Short Story, Volume 1 Page 17
