with him, leaning on whose arm he stepped down
into the boat; and as the men put their oars into the water, I jumped
with a sudden start at the sudden explosion of a subsidiary cannon,
which went on firing some dozens of times till the proper number had
been completed supposed to be due to an officer of such magnitude.

CHAPTER XII.

OUR VOYAGE TO ENGLAND.

The boat had gone ashore and returned before the John Bright had
steamed out of the harbour. Then everything seemed to change, and
Captain Battleax bade me make myself quite at home. "He trusted,"
he said, "that I should always dine with him during the voyage, but
that I should be left undisturbed during all other periods of the
day. He dined at seven o'clock, but I could give my own orders as to
breakfast and tiffin. He was sure that Lieutenant Crosstrees would
have pleasure in showing me my cabins, and that if there was anything
on board which I did not feel to be comfortable, it should be at once
altered. Lieutenant Crosstrees would tell my servant to wait upon
me, and would show me all the comforts,--and discomforts,--of the
vessel." With that I left him, and was taken below under the guidance
of the lieutenant. As Mr Crosstrees became my personal friend during
the voyage,--more peculiarly than any of the other officers, all of
whom were my friends,--I will give some short description of him. He
was a young man, perhaps eight-and-twenty years old, whose great gift
in the eyes of all those on board was his personal courage. Stories
were told to me by the junior officers of marvellous things which he
had done, which, though never mentioned in his own presence, either
by himself or by others, seemed to constitute for him a special
character,--so that had it been necessary that any one should jump
overboard to attack a shark, all on board would have thought that the
duty as a matter of course belonged to Lieutenant Crosstrees. Indeed,
as I learnt afterwards, he had quite a peculiar name in the British
navy. He was a small fair-haired man, with a pallid face and a bright
eye, whose idiosyncrasy it was to conceive that life afloat was
infinitely superior in all its attributes to life on shore. If there
ever was a man entirely devoted to his profession, it was Lieutenant
Crosstrees. For women he seemed to care nothing, nor for bishops, nor
for judges, nor for members of Parliament. They were all as children
skipping about the world in their foolish playful ig