Punch or The London charivari (1.1841)

22

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

THE SAILOR'S SECRET.

In the year—let me see—but no matter about the date—my father and
mother died of a typhus fever, leaving me to the care of an only relative, and
uncle, by my father's side. His name was Box, as my name is Box. I was a
babby in long clothes at that time, not even so much as christened ; so uncle,
taking the hint, I suppose, from the lid of his sea-chest, had me called Bel-
lophron Box. Bellophron being the name of the ship of which he was sailing-master.

I sha'n't say anything about my education ; though I was brought up in

a first-rate boarding-school.

It's not much to boast of; but as soon as 1 could bear the weight of a cockade
imd a dirk, uncle got me a berth as midshipman on board his own ship. So
'..here I was, Mr. Bellophron Box, I didn't like the sea or the service, being
continually disgusted at the partiality si)own towards me, for in less than a month

I was put over the heads of all my superior officers. You may stare__but it's

true; for / was mast-headed for a week at a stretch. When we put into

port, Captain - called me into his cabin, and politely informed me that

if I chose to go on shore, and should find it inconvenient to return, no imperti-
nent inquiries should be made after me. I availed myself of the hint, and
exactly one year and two months after setting foot on board the Bellophron, I
was Master Bellophron Box again.

Well, now for my Btory. There was one Tom Johnson on board, afck'sc'i
rcac, as they called him, who was very kind to me ; he tried to teach me to turn.
e ouid, and generously helped me to drink my grog. As I was unmercifully
ouizzed in the cockpit, I grew more partial to the society of Tom than to that o!
ruy brother middies. Tom always addressed me,' Sir,' and they named me
Puddinghead ; till at last we might be called friends. During many a night-
watch, when I have sneaked away for a snooze among the hen-coops, has Tom
ea^ed me from detection, and the consequent pleasant occupation of earrying
about a bucket of water on the end of a capstan bar.

I had been on board about a month—perhaps two—when the order cacao
down from the Admiralty for the men to cut off their tails. Lord, what a scene
was there ! I wonder it didn't cause a mutiny ! I think it would have done sc,
but half the crew were ,'aid up with colds in their heads, from the suddenness of
the change, though an extra allowance of rum was served out to rub them with
to prevent such consequences ; but the purser not giving any definite directions,
whether the application was to be external or internal, the liquor, I regret to
say, for the honour of the British navy, was applied much lower down. Fcr
H>me weeks the men seemed half-crazed, and were almost as unmanageable as
ships that had lost their rudders. Well, so they had ! It was a melancholy
sight to see piles of beautiful tails with little labels tied to them, like the in-
structions on a physic-bottle; each directed to some favoured Telative or sweet-
heart of the curtailed seamen. What a strange appearance must Portsmouth,
and Falmouth, and Plymouth, and all the other mouths that are filled with sca-
ttores, have presented, when the precious remembrances were distributed ! I wish
some artist would consider it; for I think it's a shame that there should be no
record of such an interesting circumstance.

One night, shortly after this visitation, it blew great guns. Large black
clouds, like chimney-sweepers' feather-beds, scudded over our heads, and the
lain came pouring down like—like winking. Tom had been promoted, and
was sent up aloft to reef a sail, when one of the horses giving way, down came
Tom Johnson, and snap went a leg and an arm. I was ordered to see him
carried below, an office which I readily performed, for I liked the man—and
they don't allow umbrellas in the navy.

" What's the matter?" said the surgeon.

" Nothing particular, sir; on'y Tom's broke his legs and his arms by a fall
from the yard," replied a seaman.

Tom groaned, as though he did consider it something very particular.

He was soon stripped and the shattered bones set, which was no easy
matter, the ship pitching and tossing about as she did. I sat down beside
his berth, holding on as well as I could. The wind howled through the
jigging, making the vessel seem like an infernal Eolian harp ; the thunder
rumbled like an indisposed giant, and to make things more agreeable, a
gun broke from its lashings, and had it all its own way for about a quarter
r-f an hour. Tom groaned most pitiably. I looked at him, and if I were
to live for a thousand years, I shall never forget the expression of his face.
His lip* were blue, and—no matter, I'm not clever at portrait painting:
bat imagine an old-fashioned Saracen's Head—not the fine handsome fellow
they have stuck on Snow Hill, but one of the griffins of 1809—and you

have Tom's phiz, only it wants touching with all the colours of a painter's
palette. I was quite frightened, and could only stammer out, " Why T-o-o m f
" It's all up, sir," says he ; "I must go; 1 feel it."

" Don't be foolish," I replied ; "Don't die till I call the surgeon." It was
a stupid speech, I acknowledge, but I could not help it at the time.

"No, no; don't call the surgeon, Mr. Box; he's done all he can, sir. But
it's here—it's here !" and then he made an effort to thump his heart, or the back
of his bead, I couldn't make out which.

I trembled like a jelly. I had once 6?en a melodrama, and I recollected that
the villain of the piece had used the same action, the same words.

" Mr. Box," groaned Tom, " I've a-a-secret as makes me very uneasy, sir."

" Indeed, Tom," I replied ; " hadn't you better confess the mur—" murder,
I was a going to say, but I thought it might not be polite, considering Toui's
situation.

The ruffian, for such he looked then, tried to raise himself, but another lurch
of the Bellopliron sent him on his back, and myself on my beam-ends. As soon
as I recovered my former position, Tom continued—

" Mr. Box, dare I trust you, sir? if I could do so, I'm sartin as how I should
soon be easier."

" Of course," said I, " of course ; out with it, and I promise never to betray
your confidence.

" Then come, come here," gasped the suffering wretch; " give us your hand,sir."
I instinctively shrunk back with horror !

" Don't be long, Mr. Box, for every minute makes it worse," and then his Sara-
cen's Head changed to a feminine expression, and resembled the Belle Sauvaye.

I couldn't resist the appeal ; so placing my hand in his, Tom put it over his
shoulder, and, with a ghastly smile, said, " Pull it out, sir V

" Pull what out?"

" My secret, Mr. Box ; it's hurting on me !"

I thought that he had grown delirious; so, in order to soothe him as much ui
possible, I forced my hand under his shirt-collar, and what do you think I found ?
Why a pigtail—Ais pigtail, which he had contrived to conceal between his shirt
and'his skin, when the baibarons order of the Admiralty had been put into
execution.

L NAl/HCAL TALE.

6CNGS FOR THE SENTIMENTAL.
No. II.

You say you would find

But one, and one only,
Who'd feel without you

That the revel was lonely :
That when you were near,

Time ever was fleetest,
And deem your loved voice

Of all music the sweetest.
Who would own her heart thine,

Though a monarch beset it,
And love on unchanged—

Don't you wish you may get it ?

You say you would rove

Where the bud cannot wither;
Where Araby's perfumes

Each breeze wafteth thither.
Where the lute hath no string

That can waken a sorrow ;
Where the soft twilight blends

With the dawn of the rnorrov? ;
Wheee joy kindles joy,

Ere you learn to forget it,
And care never come6—

Don't you wish you may get it?

" kyllables which breathe of the sweet south."

Joey Hl-me is about to depart for Switzerland : for, finding his flummery of ao
avail at Leeds, we presuKC he intends to go to Schaff-hausen, to try the Cant-on..

marriage and christening extraordinary.

We beg to congratulate Lord John Russell on his approaching union with
Lady Fanny Elliot. His lordship is such a persevering votary of Hymen, that
we think he should be named " Union-Jack."

ominous.

Lord Palmerstow, on his road to Windsor, narrowly escaped being upect by
a gentleman in a gig. We have been privately informed that the party witk
whom he came in collision was—Sir Robert Peel.