Paul Gerrard

Paul Gerrard, by W.H.G.
Kingston

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Title: Paul Gerrard The Cabin Boy
Author: W.H.G. Kingston
Release Date: June 12, 2007 [EBook #21812]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
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GERRARD ***

Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England

Paul Gerrard
The Cabin Boy
by W.H.G. Kingston.

CHAPTER ONE.
Darkness had set in. The wind was blowing strong from the southwest,
with a fine, wetting, penetrating rain, which even tarpaulins, or the
thickest of Flushing coats, would scarcely resist. A heavy sea also was
running, such as is often to be met with in the chops of the British
Channel during the month of November, at which time of the year, in
the latter part of the last century, a fine frigate was struggling with the
elements, in a brave attempt to beat out into the open ocean. She was
under close-reefed topsails; but even with this snug canvas she often
heeled over to the blast, till her lee-ports were buried in the foaming
waters. Now she rose to the summit of a white-crested sea; now she
sunk into the yawning trough below; and ever and anon as she dashed
onward in spite of all opposition, a mass of water would strike her
bows with a clap like that of thunder, and rising over her bulwarks,
would deluge her deck fore and aft, and appear as if about to
overwhelm her altogether. A portion of the officers and crew stood at
their posts on deck, now and then shaking the water from their hats and
coats, after they had been covered with a thicker shower than usual of
rain or spray, or looking up aloft at the straining canvas, or out over the
dark expanse of ocean; but all of them taking matters very composedly,
and wishing only that their watch were over, that they might enjoy such
comforts as were to be found below, and take part in the conviviality
which, in spite of the gale, was going forward.
It was Saturday night, and fore and aft the time-honoured toast of
"sweethearts and wives" was being enthusiastically drunk,--nowhere
more enthusiastically than in the midshipmen's berth; and not the less
so probably, that few of its light-hearted inmates had in reality either
one or the other. What cared they for the tumult which raged above
their heads? They had a stout ship and trusted officers, and their heads
and insides were well accustomed to every possible variety of lurching
and pitching, in which their gallant frigate the Cerberus was at that
moment indulging. The Cerberus, a fine 42-gun frigate, commanded by
Captain Walford, had lately been put in commission, and many of her
officers and midshipmen had only joined just before the ship sailed,
and were thus comparatively strangers to each other. The frigate was

now bound out to a distant station, where foes well worthy of her, it
was hoped, would be encountered, and prize-money without stint be
made.
The midshipmen's berth of the Cerberus was a compartment of
somewhat limited dimensions,--now filled to overflowing with mates,
midshipmen, masters'-assistants, assistant-surgeons, and captain's and
purser's clerks,--some men with grey heads, and others boys scarcely in
their teens, of all characters and dispositions, the sons of nobles of the
proudest names, and the offspring of plebeians, who had little to boast
of on that score, or on any other; but the boys might hope,
notwithstanding, as many did, to gain fame and a name for themselves.
The din of tongues and shouts of laughter which proceeded out of that
narrow berth, rose even above the creaking of bulkheads, the howling
of the wind, and the roar of the waves.
The atmosphere was somewhat dense and redolent of rum, and could
scarcely be penetrated by the light of the three purser's dips which
burned in some battered tin candlesticks, secured by lanyards to the
table. At one end of the table over which he presided as caterer, sat
Tony Noakes, an old mate, whose grog-blossomed nose and bloodshot
eyes told of many a past debauch.
"Here's to my own true love, Sally Pounce," he shouted in a husky
voice, lifting to his lips a stiff glass of grog, which was eyed wistfully
by Tilly Blake, a young midshipman, from whose share of rum he had
abstracted its contents.
"Mrs Noakes that is to be," cried out Tilly in a sharp tone. "But I say,
she'll not stand having her grog drunk up."