The Adventures of Roderick Random
was, at the request of the surgeon, exempted from all other duty than
that of assisting his mates, in making and administering medicines to
the sick. This good office I owed to the friendship of Mr. Thompson,
who had represented me in such a favourable light to the surgeon, that
he demanded me of the lieutenant to supply the place of his third mate,
who was lately dead. When I had obtained this favour, my friend
Thompson carried me down to the cockpit, which is the place allotted
for the habitation of the surgeon’s mates; and when he had shown me
their berth (as he called it), I was filled with astonishment and
horror, We descended by divers ladders to a space as dark as a dungeon,
which, I understood, was immersed several feet under water, being
immediately above the hold. I had no sooner approached this dismal
gulph, than my nose was saluted with an intolerable stench of putrified
cheese and rancid butter, that issued from an apartment at the foot of
the ladder, resembling a chandler’s shop, where, by the faint
glimmering of a candle, I could perceive a man with a pale, meagre
countenance, sitting behind a kind of desk, having spectacles on his
nose, and a pen in his hand. This (I learned of Mr. Thompson) was the
ship’s steward, who sat there to distribute provision to the several
messes, and to mark what each received. He therefore presented my name
to him, and desired I might be entered in his mess; then, taking a
light in his hand, conducted me to the place of his residence, which
was a square of about six feet, surrounded with the medicine-chest,
that of the first mate, his own, and a board by way of table fastened
to the after powder room; it was also inclosed with canvas nailed round
to the beams of the ship, to screen us from the cold, as well as from
the view of the midshipmen and quartermaster, who lodged within the
cable-tiers on each side of us. In this gloomy mansion he entertained
me with some cold salt pork, which he brought from a sort of locker,
fixed above the table: and calling for the boy of the mess, sent for a
can of beer, of which he made excellent flip to crown the banquet.
By this time I began to recover my spirits, which had been exceedingly
depressed with the appearance of everything about me, and could no
longer refrain from asking the particulars of Mr. Thompson’s fortune
since I had seen him in London. He told me, that being disappointed in
his expectations of borrowing money to gratify the rapacious s—t—ry at
the Navy Office, he found himself utterly unable to subsist any longer
in town, and had actually offered his service, in quality of mate, to
the surgeon of a merchant ship, bound to Guinea on the slaving trade;
when, one morning, a young fellow, of whom he had some acquaintance,
came to his lodgings, and informed him that he had seen a warrant made
out in his name at the Navy Office, for surgeon’s second mate of a
third-rate. This unexpected piece of good news he could scarcely
believe to be true, more especially as he had been found qualified at
Surgeons’ Hall for third mate only; but that he might not be wanting to
himself, he went thither to be assured, and actually found it so:
whereupon, demanding his warrant, it was delivered to him, and the
oaths administered immediately. That very afternoon he went to
Gravesend in the tilt-boat, from whence he took place in the tide-coach
for Rochester; next morning got on board the “Thunder,” for which he
was appointed, then lying in the harbour at Chatham; and the same day
was mustered by the clerk of the checque. And well it was for him that
such expedition was used; for, in less than twelve hours after his
arrival, another William Thompson came on board, affirming that he was
the person for whom the warrant was expedited, and that the other was
an impostor.
My friend was grievously alarmed at this accident, the more so, as his
namesake had very much the advantage over him both in assurance and
dress. However, to acquit himself of the suspicion of imposture, he
produced several letters written from Scotland to him in that name,
and, recollecting that his indentures were in a box on board, he
brought them up, and convinced all present that he had not assumed a
name which did not belong to him. His competitor, enraged that they
should hesitate in doing him justice (for to be sure the warrant had
been designed for him), behaved with so much indecent heat, that the
commanding officer (who was the same gentleman I had seen) and the
surgeon were offended at his presumption, and making a point of it with
their friends in town, in less than a week got the first confirmed in
his station. “I have been on board,” said he, “ever since; and, as this
way of life is becoming familiar to me, have no cause to complain of my
situation. The surgeon is a good-natured, indolent man; the first mate
(who is now on shore on duty) is indeed a little proud and choleric, as
all Welshmen are, but in the main a friendly honest fellow. The
lieutenants I have no concern with; and, as for the captain, he is too
much of a gentleman to know a surgeon’s mate, even by sight.”
CHAPTER XXV
The behaviour of Mr. Morgan—his pride, displeasure, and generosity—the
economy of our mess described—Thomson’s further friendship—the nature
of my duty explained—the situation of the sick
While he was thus discoursing to me, we heard a voice on the cockpit
ladder pronounce with great vehemence, in a strange dialect, “The devil
and his dam blow me from the top of Monchdenny, if I go to him before
there is something in my pelly. Let his nose be as yellow as saffron,
or as plue as a pell (look you), or as green as a leek, ’tis all one.”
To this declaration somebody answered, “So it seems my poor messmate
must part his cable for want of a little assistance. His foretopsail is
loose already; and besides the doctor ordered you to overhaul him; but
I see you don’t mind what your master says.” Here he was interrupted
with, “Splutter and cons! you lousy tog, who do you call my master? Get
you gone to the doctor, and tell him my birth, and education, and my
abilities; and moreover, my behaviour is as good as his, or any
shentleman’s (no disparagement to him,) in the whole world. Cot pless
my soul I does he think, or conceive, or imagine, that I am a horse, or
an ass, or a goat, to trudge backwards and forwards, and upwards and
downwards, and by sea and by land; at his will and pleasure? Go your
ways, you rapscallion, and tell Doctor Atkins that I desire and request
that he will give a look upon the tying man, and order something for
him, if he be dead or alive, and I will see him take it by and by, when
my craving stomach is satisfied, look you.” At this, the other went
away, saying, “that if they should serve him so when he was dying, by
God he would be foul of them in the other world.” Here Mr. Thompson let
me know, that the person we heard was Mr. Morgan, the first mate, who
was just come on board from the hospital, whither he had attended some
of the sick in the morning; at the same time I saw him come into the
berth. He was a short thick man, with a face garnished with pimples, a
snub nose turned up at the end, an excessive wide mouth, and little
fiery eyes, surrounded with skin puckered up in innumerable wrinkles.
My friend immediately made him acquainted with my case; when he
regarded me with a very lofty look, but without speaking, set down a
bundle he had in his hand, and approached the cupboard, which, when he
had opened, he exclaimed in a great passion, “Cot is my life, all the
pork is gone, as I am a Christian!” Thompson then gave him to
understand, that, as I had been brought on board half famished, he
could do no less than to entertain me with what was in the locker, and
the rather as he had bid the steward enter me in the mess. Whether this
disappointment made Mr. Morgan more peevish than usual, or he really
thought himself too little regarded by his fellow mate, I know not, but
after some pause, he went on in this manner: “Mr. Thompson, perhaps you
do not use me with all the good manners, and complaisance, and respect
(look you,) that becomes you, because you have not vouchsafed to advise
with me in this affair. I have in my time (look you,) been a man of
some weight, and substance, and consideration, and have kept house and
home, and paid scot and lot, and the king’s taxes; ay, and maintained a
family to boot. And moreover, also, I am your senior, and your older,
and your petter, Mr. Thompson.” “My elder, I’ll allow you to be, but
not my better!” cried Thompson, with some heat. “Cot is my Saviour, and
witness too,” said Morgan, with great vehemence, “that I am more elder,
and therefore more petter by many years than you.” Fearing this dispute
might be attended with some bad consequence, I interposed, and told Mr.
Morgan I was very sorry for having been the occasion of any difference
between him and the second mate; and that, rather than cause the least
breach in their good understanding, I would eat my allowance to myself,
or seek admission into some other company. But Thompson, with more
spirit than discretion (as I thought), insisted upon my remaining where
he had appointed me; and observed that no man, possessed of generosity
and compassion, would have any objection to it, considering my birth
and talents, and the misfortunes I had of late so unjustly undergone.
This was touching Mr. Morgan on the right key, who protested with great
earnestness, that he had no objection to my being received in the mess;
but only complained that the ceremony of asking his consent was not
observed. “As for a sheltenman in distress,” said he, shaking me by the
hand, “I lofe him as I lofe my own powels: for, Cot help me! I have had
vexations enough upon my own pack.” And as I afterwards learned, in so
saying, he spoke no more than what was true; for he had been once
settled in a very good situation in Glamorganshire, and was ruined by
being security for an acquaintance. All differences being composed, he
untied his bundle, which consisted of three bunches of onions, and a
great lump of Cheshire cheese, wrapped up in a handkerchief: and,
taking some biscuit from the cupboard, fell to with a keen appetite,
inviting us to share of the repast. When he had fed heartily on his
homely fare, he filled a large cup, made of a cocoa-nut shell, with
brandy, and, drinking it off, told us, “Prandy was the best menstruum
for onions and sheese.” His hunger being appeased, he began to be in
better humour; and, being inquisitive about my birth, no sooner
understood that I was descended of a good family, than he discovered a
particular good-will to me on that account, deducing his own pedigree
in a direct line from the famous Caractacus, king of the Britons, who
was first the prisoner, and afterwards the friend of Claudius Caesar.
Perceiving how much I was reduced in point of linen, he made me a
present of two good ruffled shirts, which, with two more of check which
I received from Mr. Thompson, enabled me to appear with decency.
Meanwhile the sailor, whom Mr. Morgan had sent to the doctor, brought a
prescription for his messmate, which when the Welshman had read, he got
up to prepare it, and asked, “if the man was dead or alive.” “Dead!”
replied Jack; “if he was dead, he would have no occasion for doctor’s
stuff. No, thank God, death han’t as yet boarded him. But they have
been yard-arm and yard-arm these three glasses.” “Are his eyes open,”
continued the mate. “His starboard eye,” said the sailor, “is open, but
fast jammed in his head: and the haulyards of his under jaw have given
way.” “Passion of my heart!” cried Morgan, “the man is as pad as one
would desire to be! Did you feel his pulses!” To this the other replied