Should Our Conjecture Prove Correct, All We Had To
Expect, According To Our Most Experienced Shipmates, Was The Fag End
Of A Cruise In One Of Her Majesty's Ships, And A Discharge Before
Long At Portsmouth.
We now proceeded to put on all the clothes we could - frock over frock,
and trousers over trousers - so as to be in readiness for removal at a
moment's warning.
Armed ships allow nothing superfluous to litter up
the deck; and therefore, should we go aboard the frigate, our chests
and their contents would have to be left behind.
In an hour's time, the first cutter of the Reine Blanche came
alongside, manned by eighteen or twenty sailors, armed with cutlasses
and boarding pistols - the officers, of course, wearing their
side-arms, and the consul in an official cocked hat borrowed for the
occasion. The boat was painted a "pirate black," its crew were a
dark, grim-looking set, and the officers uncommonly fierce-looking
little Frenchmen. On the whole they were calculated to
intimidate - the consul's object, doubtless, in bringing them.
Summoned aft again, everyone's name was called separately; and being
solemnly reminded that it was his last chance to escape punishment,
was asked if he still refused duty. The response was instantaneous:
"Ay, sir, I do." In some cases followed up by divers explanatory
observations, cut short by Wilson's ordering the delinquent to the
cutter. As a general thing, the order was promptly obeyed - some
taking a sequence of hops, skips, and jumps, by way of showing not
only their unimpaired activity of body, but their alacrity in
complying with all reasonable requests.
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