Mac he is always called. Now
you know all about the gun-room officers; but the best fellows, out and
out, are in our berth. We've got two old mates, Beater and Crowhurst--
at least, they are old compared to the rest of us, and they are always
complaining that they are not port-admirals. Their characters answer to
their names, for Beater is never without a cob in his hand, and he uses
it pretty freely; and Crowhurst is always boasting of his own mighty
deeds or those of his ancestors--and if you are to take his word for it,
they (his ancestors, I mean) came over with William the Conqueror, and
ought to be dukes at the least. However, putting their peculiarities
aside, they're capital fellows, and, if they have an opportunity, will
show that they have the true metal in them--so my chum, Nat Kiddle,
says. He doesn't pretend to be anybody, though I can tell you he's a
broth of a boy, and it's a pity he wasn't an Irishman, for he'd do
honour to the old country; but he happens to be the tenth son of an
English farmer, whose brother was a lieutenant in the navy, and took him
to sea, but his uncle having been killed at the end of the last war, Nat
has to shift for himself. Though he has tumbled into a good many
scrapes, he has always managed to fall on his feet. Then we've got a
young lord, Mountstephen; he is always called Molly, but he doesn't at
all mind, and declares that he'll some day show the Frenchmen what an
English Molly can do. In reality, he is the pet of the mess--not
because he's a lord, but because he's a very nice little fellow, who
looks as if he ought to be in the nursery instead of knocking about in a
sloop of war. But I don't know, Norah, whether you'll care to hear
about the rest of us."

"Oh yes," answered Norah; "I am very much interested, especially in the
little lord. I hope you'll help to take care of him."

"Yes, that you may depend on it I will," said Gerald; "if I get into
scrapes, I'll take care he doesn't--though I don't intend to get into
any myself, notwithstanding that they say Irishmen always do. They've
dubbed me Paddy already, but of course I'm proud of that, and shall
always stick up for old Ireland, and sing `Erin-go-bragh' on all
occasions. Well, I'll tell you about the rest of our mess another day,
and something about the warrant officers. We've three of them, the
gunner, boatswain, and carpenter--and as chance will have it, the first
is a Scotchman, the second an Englishma