The Two Admirals

“They think it a more delicate service, perhaps, for a gentleman to be true to the reigning house, when so loud an appeal is made to his natural loyalty; and therefore class the self-conquest with a victory at sea!”

“They are so many court-lubbers, and I should like to have an opportunity of speaking my mind to them. I’ll not take the new commission; for every one must see, Dick, that it is a sop.”

“Ay, that’s just my notion, too, about the red riband; and I’ll not take that. You have had the riband these ten years, have declined the peerage twice, and their only chance is the promotion. Take it you ought, and must, however, as it will be the means of pushing on some four or five poor devils, who have been wedged up to honours, in this manner, ever since they were captains. I am glad they do not talk of promoting me, for I should hardly know how to refuse such a grace. There is great virtue in parchment, with all us military men.”

“Still it must be parchment fairly won. I think you are wrong, notwithstanding, Bluewater, in talking of refusing the riband, which is so justly your due, for a dozen different acts. There is not a man in the service, who has been less rewarded for what he has done, than yourself.”

“I am sorry to hear you give this as your opinion; for just at this moment, I would rather think that I have no cause of complaint, in this way, against the reigning family, or its ministers. I’m sure I was posted when quite a young man, and since that time, no one has been lifted over my head.”

The vice-admiral looked intently at his friend; for never before had he detected a feeling which betrayed, as he fancied, so settled a determination in him to quit the service of the powers that were. Acquainted from boyhood with all the workings of the other’s mind, he perceived that the rear-admiral had been endeavouring to persuade himself that no selfish or unworthy motive could be assigned to an act which he felt to proceed from disinterested chivalry, just as he himself broke out with his expression of an opinion that no officer had been less liberally rewarded for his professional services than his friend. While there is no greater mystery to a selfish manager, than a man of disinterested temperament, they who feel and submit to generous impulses, understand each other with an instinctive facility. When any particular individual is prone to believe that there is a predominance of good over evil in the world he inhabits, it is a sign of inexperience, or of imbecility; but when one acts and reasons as if all honour and virtue are extinct, he furnishes the best possible argument against his own tendencies and character. It has often been remarked that stronger friendships are made between those who have different personal peculiarities, than between those whose sameness of feeling and impulses would be less likely to keep interest alive; but, in all cases of intimacies, there must be great identity of principles, and even of tastes in matters at all connected with motives, in order to ensure respect, among those whose standard of opinion is higher than common, or sympathy among those with whom it is lower. Such was the fact, as respected Admirals Oakes and Bluewater. No two men could be less alike in temperament, or character, physically, and in some senses, morally considered; but, when it came to principles, or all those tastes or feelings that are allied to principles, there was a strong native, as well as acquired affinity. This union of sentiment was increased by common habits, and professional careers so long and so closely united, as to be almost identical. Nothing was easier, consequently, than for Sir Gervaise Oakes to comprehend the workings of Admiral Bluewater’s mind, as the latter endeavoured to believe he had been fairly treated by the existing government. Of course, the reasoning which passed through the thoughts of Sir Gervaise, on this occasion, required much less time than we have taken to explain its nature; and, after regarding his friend intently, as already related, for a few seconds, he answered as follows; a good deal influenced, unwittingly to himself, with the wish to check the other’s Jacobite propensities.

“I am sorry not to be able to agree with you, Dick,” he said, with some warmth. “So far from thinking you well treated, by any ministry, these twenty years, I think you have been very ill treated. Your rank you have, beyond a question; for of that no brave officer can well be deprived in a regulated service; but, have you had the commands to which you are entitled? – I was a commander-in-chief when only a rear-admiral of the blue; and then how long did I wear a broad pennant, before I got a flag at all!”

“You forget how much I have been with you. When two serve together, one must command, and the other must obey. So far from complaining of these Hanoverian Boards, and First Lords, it seems to me that they have always kept in view the hollowness of their claims to the throne, and have felt a desire to purchase honest men by their favours.”

“You are the strangest fellow, Dick Bluewater, it has ever been my lot to fall in with! D – – e me, if I believe you know always, when you are ill treated. There are a dozen men in service, who have had separate commands, and who are not half as well entitled to them, as you are yourself.”

“Come, come, Oakes, this is getting to be puerile, for two old fellows, turned of fifty. You very well know that I was offered just as good a fleet, as this of your own, with a choice of the whole list of flag-officers below me, to pick a junior from; and, so, we’ll say no more about it. As respects their red riband, however, it may go a-begging for me.”

Sir Gervaise was about to answer in his former vein, when a tap at the door announced the presence of another visiter. This time the door opened on the person of Galleygo, who had been included in Sir Wycherly’s hospitable plan of entertaining every soul who immediately belonged to the suite of Sir Gervaise.

“What the d – – I has brought you here!” exclaimed the vice-admiral, a little warmly; for he did not relish an interruption just at this moment. “Recollect you’re not on board the Plantagenet, but in the dwelling of a gentleman, where there are both butler and housekeeper, and who have no occasion for your advice, or authority, to keep things in order.”

“Well, there, Sir Gervaise I doesn’t agree with you the least bit; for I thinks as a ship’s steward – I mean a cabin steward, and a good ‘un of the quality – might do a great deal of improvement in this very house. The cook and I has had a partic’lar dialogue on them matters, already; and I mentioned to her the names of seven different dishes, every one of which she quite as good as admitted to me, was just the same as so much gospel to her.”

“I shall have to quarantine this fellow, in the long run, Bluewater! I do believe if I were to take him to Lambeth Palace, or even to St. James’s, he’d thrust his oar into the archbishop’s benedictions, or the queen’s caudle-cup!”

“Well, Sir Gervaise, where would be the great harm, if I did? A man as knows the use of an oar, may be trusted with one, even in a church, or an abbey. When your honour comes to hear what the dishes was, as Sir Wycherly’s cook had never heard on, you’ll think it as great a cur’osity as I do myself. If I had just leave to name ‘em over, I think as both you gentlemen would look at it as remarkable.”

“What are they, Galleygo?” inquired Bluewater, putting one of his long legs over an arm of the adjoining chair, in order to indulge himself in a yarn with his friend’s steward, with greater freedom; for he greatly delighted in Galleygo’s peculiarities; seeing just enough of the fellow to find amusement, without annoyance in them. “I’ll answer for Sir Gervaise, who is always a little diffident about boasting of the superiority of a ship, over a house.”

“Yes, your honour, that he is – that is just one of Sir Jarvy’s weak p’ints, as a body might say. Now, I never goes ashore, without trimming sharp up, and luffing athwart every person’s hawse, I fall in with; which is as much as to tell ‘em, I belongs to a flag-ship, and a racer, and a craft as hasn’t her equal on salt-water; no disparagement to the bit of bunting at the mizzen-topgallant-mast-head of the Cæsar, or to the ship that carries it. I hopes, as we are so well acquainted, Admiral Bluewater, no offence will be taken.”

“Where none is meant, none ought to be taken, my friend. Now let us hear your bill-of-fare.”

“Well, sir, the very first dish I mentioned to Mrs. Larder, Sir Wycherly’s cook, was lobscous; and, would you believe it, gentlemen, the poor woman had never heard of it! I began with a light hand, as it might be, just not to overwhelm her with knowledge, at a blow, as Sir Jarvy captivated the French frigate with the upper tier of guns, that he might take her alive, like.”

“And the lady knew nothing of a lobscous – neither of its essence, nor nature?”

“There’s no essences as is ever put in a lobscous, besides potaties, Admiral Bluewater; thof we make ‘em in the old Planter” – nautice for Plantagenet – “in so liquorish a fashion, you might well think they even had Jamaiky, in ‘em. No, potaties is the essence of lobscous; and a very good thing is a potatie, Sir Jarvy, when a ship’s company has been on salted oakum for a few months.”

“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.