Dick Cheveley Part 1

d.i.c.k Cheveley.

by W. H. G. Kingston.

Preface.

So extraordinary are the adventures of my hero, Master Richard Cheveley, son of the Reverend John Cheveley, vicar of the parish of S--, in the county of D---, that it is possible some of my readers may be inclined to consider them incredible, but that they are thoroughly probable the following paragraph which appeared in the evening edition of the _Standard_ early in the month of November, 1879, will, I think, amply prove. I have no fear that any sensible boys will be inclined to follow d.i.c.k's example; but if they will write to him at Liverpool, where he resides, and ask his advice, as a young gentleman did mine lately, on the subject of running away to sea, I am very sure that he will earnestly advise them to stay at home; or, at all events, first to consult their fathers or mothers, or guardians, or other relatives or friends before they start, unless they desire to risk sharing the fate of the hapless stowaway here mentioned:--

"A shocking discovery was made on board the National steamer _England_, which arrived in New York from Liverpool on the 29th October. In discharging the cargo in the forehold a stowaway was found in a dying state. He had made the entire pa.s.sage of thirteen days without food or drink. He was carried to the vessel's deck, where he died."

My young correspondent, in perfect honesty, asked me to tell him how he could best manage to run away to sea. I advised him, as Mr Richard Cheveley would have done, and I am happy to say that he wisely followed my advice, for I have since frequently heard from him. When he first wrote he was an entire stranger to me. He has had more to do with this work than he supposes. I have the pleasure of dedicating it to him.

WILLIAM H G KINGSTON.

CHAPTER ONE.

Some account of my family, including Aunt Deb--My father receives an offer--A family discussion, in which Aunt Deb distinguishes herself-- Her opinions and mine differ considerably--My desire to go to sea haunts my dreams--My brother Ned's counsel--I go a-fis.h.i.+ng in Leighton Park--I meet with an accident--My career nearly cut short--A battle with a swan, in which I get the worst of it--A courageous mother--Mark Riddle to the rescue--An awkward fix--Mark finds a way out of it--Old Roger's cottage--The Riddle family--Roger Riddle's yarns and their effect on me--Mark takes a different view--It's not all gold that glitters--The model--My reception at home.

We were all seated round the tea-table, that is to say, my father and mother, my five sisters, and three of my elder brothers, who were at home--two were away--and the same number of young ones, who wore pinafores, and last, but not least, Aunt Deb, who was my mother's aunt, and lived with us to manage everything and keep everybody in order, for this neither my father nor mother were very well able to do; the latter nearly worn out with nursing numerous babies, while my father was constantly engaged in the duties of the parish of Sandgate, of which he was inc.u.mbent.

Aunt Deb was never happy unless she was actively engaged in doing something or other. At present she was employed in cutting, b.u.t.tering, or covering with jam, huge slices of bread, which she served out as soon as they were ready to the juvenile members of the family, while my eldest sister, Mary, was presiding at the tea-tray, and pa.s.sing round the cups as she filled them.

When all were served, my father stood up and said grace, and then all fell to with an eagerness which proved that we had good appet.i.tes.

"I say, Aunt Deb, Tom Martin has lent me such a jolly book. Please give me another slice before you sit down. It's all about Anson's voyage round the world. I don't know whether I shall like it as well as 'Robinson Crusoe' or 'Captain Cook's Voyages,' or 'Gulliver's Travels,'

or the 'Life of Nelson,' or 'Paul Jones,' but I think I shall from the look I got of it," I exclaimed, as Aunt Deb was doing what I requested.

"I wish, d.i.c.k, that you would not read those pestiferous works," she answered, as, having given me the slice of bread, she sat down to sip her tea. "They are all written with an evil intent, to make young people go gadding about the world, instead of staying contentedly at home doing their duty in that state of life to which they are called."

"But I don't understand why I should not be called to go to sea," I replied; "I have for a long time made up my mind to go, and I intend to try and become as great a man as Howe, or Nelson, or Collingwood, or Lord Cochrane, or Sir Sidney Smith. I've just to ask you, Aunt Deb, what England would be without her navy, and what the navy would be unless boys were allowed to go into it?"

"Stuff and nonsense, you know nothing about the matter, d.i.c.k. It's very well for boys who have plenty of interest, for sons of peers or members of parliament, or judges or bishops, or of others who possess ample means and influence, but the son of a poor inc.u.mbent of an out of the way parish, who knows no one, and whom n.o.body knows, would remain at the bottom of the tree."

"But you forget, Aunt Deb, that there are ways of getting on besides through interest. I intend to do all sorts of das.h.i.+ng things, and win my promotion, through my bravery. If I can once become a mids.h.i.+pman I shall have no fear about getting on."

"Stuff and nonsense!" again e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Aunt Deb, "you know nothing about the matter, boy."

"Don't I though," I said to myself, for I knew that my father, who felt the importance of finding professions for his sons according to their tastes, had some time before written to Sir Reginald Knowsley, of Leighton Park,--"the Squire," as he used to be called till he was made a baronet, and still was so very frequently, asking him to exert his influence in obtaining an appointment for me on board a man-of-war.

This Sir Reginald had promised to do. Aunt Deb, however, had made many objections, but for once in a way my father had acted contrary to her sage counsel, and as he considered for the best. Still Aunt Deb had not given in.

"You'll do as you think fit, John," she observed to him, "but you will repent it. d.i.c.k is not able to take care of himself at home, much less will he be so on board a big s.h.i.+p among a number of rough sailors. Let him remain at school until he is old enough to go into a counting-house in London or Bristol, where he'll make his fortune and become a respectable member of society, as his elder brother means to be, or let him become a master at a school, or follow any course of life rather than that of a soldier or a sailor."

I did not venture to interrupt Aunt Deb, indeed it would have been somewhat dangerous to have done so, while she was arguing a point, but I had secretly begged my father to write to Sir Reginald as he had promised, a.s.suring him that I had set my heart on following a naval career, and that it would break if I was not allowed to go to sea. This took place, it will be understood, some time before the evening of which I am now speaking.

Aunt Deb suspected that my father was inclined to favour my wishes, and this made her speak still more disparagingly than ever of the navy.

Tea was nearly over when the post arrived. It only reached us of an evening, and Sarah, the maid, brought in a large franked letter. I at once guessed that it was from Sir Reginald Knowsley, who was in London.

I gazed anxiously at my father's face as he read it. His countenance did not, however, exhibit any especial satisfaction.

"Who is it from?" asked my mother, in a languid voice. "From Sir Reginald," he replied. "It is very kind and complimentary. He says that he has had great pleasure in doing as I requested him. He fortunately, when going down to the Admiralty, met his friend Captain Grummit, who has lately been appointed to the 'Blaze-away,' man-of-war, and who expressed his willingness to receive on board his s.h.i.+p the son of any friend of his, but--and here comes the rub--Captain Grummit, he says, has made it a rule to take no mids.h.i.+pmen unless their parents consent to allow them fifty pounds a year, in addition to their pay.

This sum, the Captain states, is absolutely necessary to enable them to make the appearance he desires all his mids.h.i.+pmen to maintain. Fifty pounds a year is a larger sum, I fear, than my purse can supply,"

observed my father when he had read thus far.

"I should think it was, indeed!" exclaimed Aunt Deb. "Fifty pounds a year! Why, that's nearly half of my annual income. It would be madness, John, to make any promise of the sort. Suppose you were to let him go, and to stint the rest of his brothers and sisters by making him so large an allowance--what will be the result, granting that he is not killed in the first battle he is engaged in, or does not fall overboard and get drowned, or the s.h.i.+p is not wrecked, and he escapes the other hundred and one casualties to which a sailor is liable? Why, when he becomes a lieutenant he'll marry to a certainty, and then he'll be killed, and leave you and his mother and me, or his brothers and sisters, to look after his widow and children, supposing they are able to do so."

"But I shall have a hundred and twenty pounds full pay, and ninety pounds a year half-pay," I answered; "I know all about it, I can tell you."

"Ninety pounds a year and a wife and half-a-dozen small brats to support on it," exclaimed Aunt Deb in an indignant tone. "The wife is sure to be delicate, and know nothing about housekeeping, and she and the children will constantly be requiring the doctor in the house."

"But you are going very far ahead, Aunt Deb, I haven't gone to sea yet, or been made a lieutenant, and if I had, there's no reason why I should marry."

"There are a great many reasons why you should not," exclaimed Aunt Deb.

"I was going to say that there are many lieutenants in the navy who have not got wives, and I do not suppose that I shall marry when I become one," I answered.

"It seems pretty certain that you will never be a lieutenant or a mids.h.i.+pman either, if it depends upon your having an allowance of fifty pounds a year, for where that fifty pounds is to come from I'm sure I don't know," cried my aunt. "As it is, your poor father finds it a difficult matter to find food and clothing for you all, and to give you a proper education, and unless the Bishop should suddenly bestow a rich living on him, he, at all events, could not pay fifty pounds a year, or fifty s.h.i.+llings either, so I would advise you forthwith to give up this mad idea of yours, and stay quietly at school until a profitable employment is found for you."

I looked up at my father, feeling that there was a good deal of truth in what Aunt Deb said, although I did not like the way she said it.

"Your aunt only states what is the case, d.i.c.k," said my father. "I should be glad to forward your views, but I could not venture, with my very limited income, to bind myself to supply you with the sum which Sir Reginald says is necessary."

"Couldn't you get Sir Reginald to advance the money?" I inquired, as the bright idea occurred to me; "I will return it to him out of my pay and prize-money."

Aunt Deb fairly burst out laughing.

"Out of your pay, d.i.c.k?" she exclaimed. "Why fifty pounds is required over and above that pay you talk of, every penny of which you will have to spend, and supposing that you should not be employed for a time, and have to live on sh.o.r.e. Do you happen to know what a mids.h.i.+pman's half-pay is? Why just nothing at all and find yourself. You talk a good deal of knowing all about the matter, but it's just clear that you know nothing."

"I wish, my dear d.i.c.k, that we could save enough to help you," said my mother, who was always ready to a.s.sist us in any of our plans; "but you know how difficult I find it to get even a few s.h.i.+llings to spend."

My mother's remark soothed my irritated feelings and disappointment, or I should have said something which might not have been pleasant to Aunt Deb's ears.

We continued talking on the subject, I devising all sorts of plans, and arguing tooth and nail with Aunt Deb, for I had made up my mind to go to sea, and to go I was determined by hook or by crook; but that fifty pounds a year was, I confess, a damper to my hopes of becoming a mids.h.i.+pman.

If I could have set to work and made the fifty pounds, I would have done my best to do so, but I was as little likely to make fifty pounds as I was to make fifty thousand. Aunt Deb also reminded my father that it was not fifty pounds a year for one year, but fifty pounds for several years, which he might set down as three hundred pounds, at least, of which, through my foolish fancy, I should be depriving him, and my mother, and brothers, and sisters.

There was no denying that, so I felt that I was defeated. I had at length to go to bed, feeling as disappointed and miserable as I had ever been in my life. To Ned, the brother just above me in age, who slept in the same room, I opened my heart.

"I am the most miserable being in the world!" I exclaimed. "I wish that I had never been born. If it had not been for Aunt Deb father would have given in, but she hates me, I know, and always has hated me, and takes a pleasure in thwarting my wishes. I've a great mind to run off to sea, and enter before the mast just to spite her."

Ned, who was a quiet, amiable fellow, taking much after our kind mother, endeavoured to tranquillise my irritated feelings.

"Don't talk in that way, d.i.c.k," he said in a gentle tone. "You might get tired of the life, even if you were to go into the navy; but, perhaps, means may be found, after all, to enable you to follow the bent of your wishes. All naval captains may not insist on their mids.h.i.+pmen having an allowance of fifty pounds a year; or, perhaps, if they do, some friend may find the necessary funds."

"I haven't a friend in the world," I answered. "If my father cannot give me the money I don't know who can. I know that Aunt Deb would not, even if she could."

"Cheer up, d.i.c.k," said Ned; "or rather I would advise you to go to sleep. Perhaps to-morrow morning some bright idea may occur which we can't think of at present. I've got my lessons to do before breakfast, so I must not stop awake talking, or I shall not be able to arouse myself."