The Two Admirals

“Well, what was the next dish the good woman broke down under?” asked the rear-admiral, fearful the master might order the servant to quit the room; while he, himself, was anxious to get rid of any further political discussion.

“Well, sir, she knowed no more of a chowder, than if the sea wern’t in the neighbourhood, and there wern’t such a thing as a fish in all England. When I talked to her of a chowder, she gave in, like a Spaniard at the fourth or fifth broadside.”

“Such ignorance is disgraceful, and betokens a decline in civilization! But, you hoisted out more knowledge for her benefit, Galleygo – small doses of learning are poor things.”

“Yes, your honour; just like weak grog – burning the priming, without starting the shot. To be sure, I did, Admiral Blue. I just named to her burgoo, and then I mentioned duff (anglice dough) to her, but she denied that there was any such things in the cookery-book. Do you know, Sir Jarvy, as these here shore craft get their dinners, as our master gets the sun; all out of a book as it might be. Awful tidings, too, gentlemen, about the Pretender’s son; and I s’pose we shall have to take the fleet up into Scotland, as I fancy them ‘ere sogers will not make much of a hand in settling law?”

“And have you honoured us with a visit, just to give us an essay on dishes, and to tell us what you intend to do with the fleet?” demanded Sir Gervaise, a little more sternly than he was accustomed to speak to the steward.

“Lord bless you, Sir Jarvy, I didn’t dream of one or t’other! As for telling you, or Admiral Blue, (so the seamen used to call the second in rank,) here, any thing about lobscous, or chowder, why, it would be carrying coals to New Market. I’ve fed ye both with all such articles, when ye was nothing but young gentlemen; and when you was no longer young gentlemen, too, but a couple of sprightly luffs, of nineteen. And as for moving the fleet, I know, well enough, that will never happen, without our talking it over in the old Planter’s cabin; which is a much more nat’ral place for such a discourse, than any house in England!”

“May I take the liberty of inquiring, then, what did bring you here?”

“That you may, with all my heart, Sir Jarvy, for I likes to answer your questions. My errand is not to your honour this time, though you are my master. It’s no great matter, after all, being just to hand this bit of a letter over to Admiral Blue.”

“And where did this letter come from, and how did it happen to fall into your hands?” demanded Bluewater, looking at the superscription, the writing of which he appeared to recognise.

“It hails from Lun’nun, I hear; and they tell me it’s to be a great secret that you’ve got it, at all. The history of the matter is just this. An officer got in to-night, with orders for us, carrying sail as hard as his shay would bear. It seems he fell in with Master Atwood, as he made his land-fall, and being acquainted with that gentleman, he just whipped out his orders, and sent ‘em off to the right man. Then he laid his course for the landing, wishing to get aboard of the Dublin, to which he is ordered; but falling in with our barge, as I landed, he wanted to know the where-away of Admiral Blue, here; believing him to be afloat. Some ‘un telling him as I was a friend and servant of both admirals, as it might be, he turned himself over to me for advice. So I promised to deliver the letter, as I had a thousand afore, and knowed the way of doing such things; and he gives me the letter, under special orders, like; that is to say, it was to be handed to the rear-admiral as it might be under the lee of the mizzen-stay-sail, or in a private fashion. Well, gentlemen, you both knows I understand that, too, and so I undertook the job.”

“And I have got to be so insignificant a person that I pass for no one, in your discriminating mind, Master Galleygo!” exclaimed the vice-admiral, sharply. “I have suspected as much, these five-and-twenty years.”

“Lord bless you, Sir Jarvy, how flag-officers will make mistakes sometimes! They’re mortal, I says to the people of the galley, and have their appetites false, just like the young gentlemen, when they get athwart-hawse of a body, I says. Now, I count Admiral Blue and yourself pretty much as one man, seeing that you keep few, or no secrets from each other. I know’d ye both as young gentlemen, and then you loved one another like twins; and then I know’d ye as luffs, when ye’d walk the deck the whole watch, spinning yarns; and then I know’d ye as Pillardees and Arrestee, though one pillow might have answered for both; and as for Arrest, I never know’d either of ye to got into that scrape. As for telling a secret to one, I’ve always looked upon it as pretty much telling it to t’other.”

The two admirals exchanged glances, and the look of kindness that each met in the eyes of his friend removed every shadow that had been cast athwart their feelings, by the previous discourse.

“That will do, Galleygo,” returned Sir Gervaise, mildly. “You’re a good fellow in the main, though a villanously rough one – “

“A little of old Boreus, Sir Jarvy,” interrupted the steward, with a grim smile: “but it blows harder at sea than it does ashore. These chaps on land, ar’n’t battened down, and caulked for such weather, as we sons of Neptun’ is obligated to face.”

“Quite true, and so good-night. Admiral Bluewater and myself wish to confer together, for half an hour; all that it is proper for you to know, shall be communicated another time.”

“Good-night, and God bless your honour. Good-night, Admiral Blue: we three is the men as can keep any secret as ever floated, let it draw as much water as it pleases.”

Sir Gervaise Oakes stopped in his walk, and gazed at his friend with manifest interest, as he perceived that Admiral Bluewater was running over his letter for the third time. Being now without a witness, he did not hesitate to express his apprehensions.

“’Tis as I feared, Dick!” he cried. “That letter is from some prominent partisan of Edward Stuart?”

The rear-admiral turned his eyes on the face of his friend, with an expression that was difficult to read; and then he ran over the contents of the epistle, for the fourth time.

“A set of precious rascals they are, Gervaise!” at length the rear-admiral exclaimed. “If the whole court was culled, I question if enough honesty could be found to leaven one puritan scoundrel. Tell me if you know this hand, Oakes? I question if you ever saw it before.”

The superscription of the letter was held out to Sir Gervaise, who, after a close examination, declared himself unacquainted with the writing.

“I thought as much,” resumed Bluewater, carefully tearing the signature from the bottom of the page, and burning it in a candle; “let this disgraceful part of the secret die, at least. The fellow who wrote this, has put ‘confidential’ at the top of his miserable scrawl: and a most confident scoundrel he is, for his pains. However, no man has a right to thrust himself, in this rude manner, between me and my oldest friend; and least of all will I consent to keep this piece of treachery from your knowledge. I do more than the rascal merits in concealing his name; nevertheless, I shall not deny myself the pleasure of sending him such an answer as he deserves. Read that, Oakes, and then say if keelhauling would be too good for the writer.”

Sir Gervaise took the letter in silence, though not without great surprise, and began to peruse it. As he proceeded, the colour mounted to his temples, and once he dropped his hand, to cast a look of wonder and indignation towards his companion. That the reader may see how much occasion there was for both these feelings, we shall give the communication entire. It was couched in the following words:

“Dear. Admiral Bluewater:

“Our ancient friendship, and I am proud to add, affinity of blood, unite in inducing me to write a line, at this interesting moment. Of the result of this rash experiment of the Pretender’s son, no prudent man can entertain a doubt. Still, the boy may give us some trouble, before he is disposed of altogether. We look to all our friends, therefore, for their most efficient exertions, and most prudent co-operation. On you, every reliance is placed; and I wish I could say as much for every flag-officer afloat. Some distrust – unmerited, I sincerely hope – exists in a very high quarter, touching the loyalty of a certain commander-in-chief, who is so completely under your observation, that it is felt enough is done in hinting the fact to one of your political tendencies. The king said, this morning, ‘Vell, dere isht Bluevater; of him we are shure asht of ter sun.’ You stand excellently well there, to my great delight; and I need only say, be watchful and prompt.

“Yours, with the most sincere faith and attachment, my dear Bluewater, &c., &c.

“Rear-Admiral Bluewater.

“P. S. – I have just heard that they have sent you the red riband. The king himself, was in this.”

When Sir Gervaise had perused this precious epistle to himself, he read it slowly, and in a steady, clear voice, aloud. When he had ended, he dropped the paper, and stood gazing at his friend.

“One would think the fellow some exquisite satirist,” said Bluewater, laughing. “I am to be vigilant, and see that you do not mutiny, and run away with the fleet to the Highlands, one of these foggy mornings! Carry it up into Scotland, as Galleygo has it! Now, what is your opinion of that letter?”

“That all courtiers are knaves, and all princes ungrateful. I should think my loyalty to the good cause, if not to the man, the last in England to be suspected.”

“Nor is it suspected, in the smallest degree. My life on it, neither the reigning monarch, nor his confidential servants, are such arrant dunces, as to be guilty of so much weakness. No, this masterly move is intended to secure me, by creating a confidence that they think no generous-minded man would betray. It is a hook, delicately baited to catch a gudgeon, and not an order to watch a whale.”

“Can the scoundrels be so mean – nay, dare they be so bold! They must have known you would show me the letter.”

“Not they – they have reasoned on my course, as they would on their own. Nothing catches a weak man sooner than a pretended confidence of this nature; and I dare say this blackguard rates me just high enough to fancy I may be duped in this flimsy manner. Put your mind at rest; King George knows he may confide in you, while I think it probable I am distrusted.”

“I hope, Dick, you do not suspect my discretion! My own secret would not be half so sacred to me.”

“I know that, full well. Of you, I entertain no distrust, either in heart or head; of myself, I am not quite so certain. When we feel, we do not always reason; and there is as much feeling, as any thing else, in this matter.”

“Not a line is there, in all my despatches, that go to betray the slightest distrust of me, or any one else. You are spoken of, but it is in a manner to gratify you, rather than to alarm. Take, and read them all; I intended to show them to you, as soon as we had got through with that cursed discussion”

As Sir Gervaise concluded, he threw the whole package of letters on the table, before his friend.

“It will be time enough, when you summon me regularly to a council of war,” returned Bluewater, laying the letters gently aside. “Perhaps we had better sleep on this affair; in the morning we shall meet with cooler heads, and just as warm hearts.”

“Good-night, Dick,” said Sir Gervaise, holding out both hands for the other to shake as he passed him, in quitting the room.

“Good-night, Gervaise; let this miserable devil go overboard, and think no more of him. I have half a mind to ask you for a leave, to-morrow, just to run up to London, and cut off his ears.”

Sir Gervaise laughed and nodded his head, and the two friends parted, with feelings as kind as ever had distinguished their remarkable career.

Chapter VIII

“Look to’t, think on’t, I do not use to jest.
Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise;
An’ you be mine, I’ll give you to my friend;
An’ you be not, hang, beg, starve, die i’ the streets.”

    Romeo and Juliet.

Wychecombe Hall, had most of the peculiarities of a bachelor’s dwelling, in its internal government; nor was it, in any manner, behind, or, it might be better to say, before, the age, in its modes and customs connected with jollifications. When its master relaxed a little, the servants quite uniformly imitated his example. Sir Wycherly kept a plentiful table, and the servants’ hall fared nearly as well as the dining-room; the single article of wine excepted. In lieu of the latter, however, was an unlimited allowance of double-brewed ale; and the difference in the potations was far more in the name, than in the quality of the beverages. The master drank port; for, in the middle of the last century, few Englishmen had better wine – and port, too, that was by no means of a very remarkable delicacy, but which, like those who used it, was rough, honest, and strong; while the servant had his malt liquor of the very highest stamp and flavour. Between indifferent wine and excellent ale, the distance is not interminable; and Sir Wycherly’s household, was well aware of the fact, having frequently instituted intelligent practical comparisons, by means of which, all but the butler and Mrs. Larder had come to the conclusion to stand by the home-brewed.

On the present occasion, not a soul in the house was ignorant of the reason why the baronet was making a night of it. Every man, woman, and child, in or about the Hall, was a devoted partisan of the house of Hanover; and as soon as it was understood that this feeling was to be manifested by drinking “success to King George, and God bless him,” on the one side; and “confusion to the Pretender, and his mad son,” on the other; all under the roof entered into the duty, with a zeal that might have seated a usurper on a throne, if potations could do it.

When Admiral Bluewater, therefore, left the chamber of his friend, the signs of mirth and of a regular debauch were so very obvious, that a little curiosity to watch the result, and a disinclination to go off to his ship so soon, united to induce him to descend into the rooms below, with a view to get a more accurate knowledge of the condition of the household. In crossing the great hall, to enter the drawing-room, he encountered Galleygo, when the following discourse took place.