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- CHAPTER IV.
JACK CHASE.
The first night out of port was a clear, moonlight one; the frigate
gliding though the water, with all her batteries.
It was my Quarter Watch in the top; and there I reclined on the best
possible terms with my top-mates. Whatever the other seamen might have
been, these were a noble set of tars, and well worthy an introduction
to the reader.
First and foremost was Jack Chase, our noble First Captain of the Top.
He was a Briton, and a true-blue; tall and well-knit, with a clear open
eye, a fine broad brow, and an abounding nut-brown beard. No man ever
had a better heart or a bolder. He was loved by the seamen and admired
by the officers; and even when the Captain spoke to him, it was with a
slight air of respect. Jack was a frank and charming man.
No one could be better company in forecastle or saloon; no man told
such stories, sang such songs, or with greater alacrity sprang to his
duty. Indeed, there was only one thing wanting about him; and that was
a finger of his left hand, which finger he had lost at the great battle
of Navarino.
He had a high conceit of his profession as a seaman; and being deeply
versed in all things pertaining to a man-of-war, was universally
regarded as an oracle. The main-top, over which he presided, was a sort
of oracle of Delphi; to which many pilgrims ascended, to have their
perplexities or differences settled.
There was such an abounding air of good sense and good feeling about
the man, that he who could not love him, would thereby pronounce
himself a knave. I thanked my sweet stars, that kind fortune had placed
me near him, though under him, in the frigate; and from the outset Jack
and I were fast friends.
Wherever you may be now rolling over the blue billows, dear Jack! take
my best love along with you; and God bless you, wherever you go!
Jack was a gentleman. What though his hand was hard, so was not his
heart, too often the case with soft palms. His manners were easy and
free; none of the boisterousness, so common to tars; and he had a
polite, courteous way of saluting you, if it were only to borrow your
knife. Jack had read all the verses of Byron, and all the romances of
Scott. He talked of Rob Roy, Don Juan, and Pelham; Macbeth and Ulysses;
but, above all things, was an ardent admirer of Camoens. Parts of the
Lusiad, he could recite in the original. Where he had obtained his
wonderful accomplishments, it is not for me, his humble subordinate, to
say. Enough, that those accomplishments were so various; the languages
he could converse in, so numerous; that he more than furnished an
example of that saying of Charles the Fifth—_ he who speaks five
languages is as good as five men_. But Jack, he was better than a
hundred common mortals; Jack was a whole phalanx, an entire army; Jack
was a thousand strong; Jack would have done honour to the Queen of
England’s drawing-room; Jack must have been a by-blow of some British
Admiral of the Blue. A finer specimen of the island race of Englishmen
could not have been picked out of Westminster Abbey of a coronation
day.
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