In the afternoon, we
weighed and made sail. It was a fine northerly wind, and the Bay of
Biscay was smooth. We bore up, set all the studding-sails, and ran along
at the rate of eleven miles an hour. As I could not appear on the
quarter-deck, I was put down on the sick-list. Captain Savage, who was
very particular, asked what was the matter with me. The surgeon replied,
"An inflamed eye." The captain asked no more questions; and I took care
to keep out of his way. I walked in the evening on the forecastle, when
I renewed my intimacy with Mr Chucks, the boatswain, to whom I gave a
full narrative of all my adventures in France. "I have been ruminating,
Mr Simple," said he, "how such a stripling as you could have gone
through so much fatigue, and now I know how it is. It is _blood_, Mr
Simple--all blood--you are descended from good blood; and there's as
much difference between nobility and the lower classes, as there is
between a racer and a cart-horse."
"I cannot agree with you, Mr Chucks. Common people are quite as brave as
those who are well-born. You do not mean to say that you are not brave--
that the seamen on board this ship are not brave?"
"No, no, Mr Simple; but as I observed about myself, my mother was a
woman who could not be trusted, and there is no saying who was my
father; and she was a very pretty woman to boot, which levels all
distinctions for the moment. As for the seamen, God knows, I should do
them an injustice if I did not acknowledge that they were as brave as
lions.
Pages:
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347