as it was to others, was continually
getting him into scrapes. We had an old mate, Adam Stallman by name,
who was proportionably as tall, grave, and silent, as Dicky was little,
merry, and loquacious.

One day Dicky having thrown a biscuit at me, which, unfortunately, hit
Adam's nose, the latter looked at him sternly.

"Sharpe, you are small," he exclaimed; "but cobbing was invented to make
midshipmen grow, and I intend to make you grow."

"Then, faith, Stallman, I suspect your mother began cobbing you as soon
as you were born," answered the undaunted Dicky.

Adam's hands had been busy under the table with his handkerchief; now,
suddenly leaning forward, he grasped Dicky by the crop of the neck, and
before he had time to expostulate, he had him in such a position that he
could apply with the greatest effect the instrument of torture he had
manufactured. As all the oldsters sided with Adam, the youngsters dared
not interfere; and poor Dicky was held in that undignified position
while other handkerchiefs were knotted, and before he was cast loose he
received a cobbing which made him treat ever afterwards all the oldsters
with abundant respect. But Dicky, if he did not forget, did what was as
wise, he forgave; and I do not think he nourished the slightest ill-will
against his cobbers.

Of Captain Poynder I have spoken. He was a worthy man and a good
officer; and if he had a fault, it was not being sufficiently strict.

Then comes Johnny Du Pre, our gallant First. I have still an
affectionate regard for Johnny, though many an hour have I spent at our
masthead at his instigation; while Dicky, promoted by the like
authority, was taking sights at me from another. We were sent there not
without cause, I own, and still the amount of moral turpitude which
gained us that elevated distinction was not such as to make me blush as
I think of it, or to make me anxious to conceal it from the public.
Neither as a first-lieutenant nor as a man was Lieutenant Du Pre
perfect; but who is there with whom one cannot find a fault. He was
kind-hearted, a fair seaman, and anxious to do his duty.

But our second lieutenant, Basil Vernon, was still more worthy of
notice. Refined and elegant both in person and manners, he appeared, at
first sight, to be what is called a fine gentleman; but kind-hearted,
brave, and generous almost to a fault, a first-rate seaman and officer,
a better fellow never stepped, nor one more beloved by all c