The Adventures of Maurice Drummore, Royal Marines, by land and sea ... With illustrations by F. Abell

Front matter

THE ADVENTURES OF MAURICE DRUMMORE BY LAND AND SEA. VAN AND THE FRENCH ARTILLERYMAN. Frontispiece, P.t,u. J THE ADVENTURES OF MAURICE DRUMMORE (ROYAL MARINES) BY LAND AND SEA. BY LINDON MEADOWS, AUTHOR OF 'WHITTLINGS FROM THE WEST,' * COLLEGE RECOLLECTIONS AND CHURCH EXPERIENCES,' ' JAIL-BIRDS ; OR, THE SECRETS OF THE CELLS,' ETC. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY FRANK ABELL. ' The brave old commodore I The fine old commodore ! Bat the bullets and the gout Have so knocked his hull about That he'll nevermore be fit for sea. Old Song. LONDON OHN HOGG, PATERNOSTER ROW [All Rights Reserved.] PUBLISHER'S NOTE ' The Adventures of Maurice Drummore ' appeared originally in Hogg's Instructor, during the years 1853 to 1856, under the title of 'Memoranda by a Marine Officer.' During their serial publication the ' Adventures ' excited some interest and attention, and proved attractive to readers of all ages : to young boys at school as well as to older boys at home or abroad, and even to the grey-headed veterans of both services, per mare et terrain, who were wont to view the scenes depicted, and listen to the stories told with a friendly eye and an indulgent ear, and look forward to them as their monthly ration of mirth and entertainment.

Many requests have been made from time to time to issue the ' Adventures' in a volume, and, as an example of the opinions volunteered regarding the merits of the work, the following may be cited from one who has made his mark in literature; the letter is dated March 1st, 1 88 1 : — 'I read the Memoranda with extraordinary delight when a boy, and have often since perused them with great pleasure. I am con fident the story would well repay republication. It is decidedly the cleverest and one of the healthiest tales for boys with which I am VI PUBLISHER'S NOTE. acquainted, and will bear perusal even by those who are not boys.' No more need be said, excepting that the work in its present form has been very carefully revised and seen through the press by the Author, and that eight original illustrations have been prepared with the view of making it still more attractive to the younger readers.

JOHN HOGG. CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE INTRODUCTORY CORRESPONDENCE . I I I. THE OLD HOUSE AT HOME, TOGETHER WITH SOME FAMILY PORTRAITS . -T3 II. SHOWS SOME CLOUDS THAT OCCASIONALLY HUNG OVER HAZELCOPSE ; AND, AMONG OTHER MATTERS, TREATS OF A NEW STUDY IN THE SCIENCE OF NUMBERS 17 III. ' THIS IS CAPITAL PORT, DRUMMORE ; HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN IN BOTTLE ?' . _ 1 IV. MR. SKELTON AND MISS PENELOPE ADAIR HAVE AN EAR FOR MUSIC — MY FATHER CALLS TO ASK CAPTAIN ADAIR HOW HE IS . 24 V. HAZELCOPSE HAS A GHOST, OF WHICH A FULL-LENGTH PORTRAIT IS GIVEN . . . . -7 VI. MORE PORTRAITS 35 VII. IMPIOUS PROCEEDINGS 54 VIII. MY GRANDFATHER'S BIRTHDAY — WE PLAY AT THE GAME OF ' THE OLD SOLDIER ' 39 IX. OF MEN, WOMEN, AND ANIMALS 45 X. MY FATHER HEARS FROM LITTLEWEASEL — AN EVENING RAMBLE, AND AN INTERRUPTION TO IT — VANDER- DECKEN THINKS THERE IS DANGER 53 6o XI.

Chapter I. The Old House At Home, Together With Some Family Portraits

They will form an odd medley, I dare say ; but life itself is little better. They are full of hasty sketches, imperfect descriptions, and unelaborated periods ; but an old fellow like myself cannot be expected to write with the fluency and precision of a polished young gentleman who has just graduated at Oxford. In short, so diffident have I felt of the success of these memoranda, that three times I have thought of burning them, and three times have I checked myself in the very act. Once, indeed, they were actually in the fire, but I snatched them away at the right moment, and had the misfortune to singe a rather handsome pair of drab gaiters in attempting to extinguish the flames. Take them : they are wisdom and folly, mirth and heaviness, right feeling and wrong, fragments of verse, fits of reverie, mixed up with a little love, some murder, and an improving moral running from first to last, though I think proper to reserve the chief pith of that for the few last pages of my concluding chapter.

You must put up with my story just as it runs off the reel ; I am unable to alter, and don't know how to revise. To begin. Before I introduce myself as the hero of the piece, or any of my dramatis personœ, however, let me show you the old house — the home of my youth, the play-scene of my childhood. It stands alone, down a green lane, the banks of which are covered with primroses. It has a lawn in front, and flower borders, and grave Portugal laurels, which have flourished and shot out their wild branches far and wide, in down right defiance of the gardener's busy bill and pruning-knife. It is hemmed in on all sides by graceful trees, exhibiting every variety of foliage ; and there is a queer old wilderness of a garden at the back, where the rosy cheeked apples on the overhanging boughs thump your head, and neg lected currant-bushes clasp your skirts, as you walk down the gloomy pathway.

Returning to the front, a little innocent-looking wicket lets you from the lane into the shrubbery, on the opposite side to that round which the carriage-drive winds. A colony of squabbling rooks occupy the highest elm-tops above; a pebble-bottomed stream, fringed with forget-me-nots, meanders through the cherry orchard near ; a mischievous wag of a hog-maned pony stands whisking his tail and snuffing up the fresh breeze, on a little hillock under the great pear-tree ; and some sleek-coated cows (they are aware of the pony's wild propensities, but wink at them) lie dosing comfortably within a stone's-throw of him. It is the same spot from which I am now writing, though Time has made many changes. The ivy has spread itself over the whole front, and here and there even crept in at the upper windows.

The moss on the battered wall that leads into the avenue has left scarcely a stone uncovered ; and the picturesque old garden palings, which somebody wanted me to make away with, like their owner, begin to wear a dilapidated look. Well, no matter, they will weather another winter storm or two, and then we can both fall together. Yonder, if you mount that little knoll upon the lawn, you may just catch a glimpse of the village church. A few rooks are just wheeling slowly around it, with the flat of their wings towards us. It is a summer evening, and the shadow's edge upon the sun-dial among the rhododendrons cuts the figure seven. I can scarcely wish you to have been intimate with my father, except through the medium of these memoranda, as perhaps the acquaintance would not have resulted in anything agreeable.

I cannot say that I ever liked him; his manners were so repulsive, and his conduct to me so unlike that of most fathers to their sons. This, it seems, was entirely my own fault. I ought to have been a girl ; my father hated boys, and viewed me as an intrusion upon the domestic hearth. He lavished all his affection upon my little sister Wilhelmine, who was just one year younger than myself. He had no other children. One boy he looked upon as an undeserved visitation ; a second would have been the climax of earthly suffering. From my very infancy he had hated me : not a solitary endearment can I recollect ever having received at his hands ; not one parental kiss, not one dandle on the parental knee, not one agreeable chuck under the chin — nothing but knocks, tweaks, frowns, and harsh words ; and when he accidentally met me in the house, in the garden, in the field, he would turn away as from a thing he loathed.

He had been a stem man all his life. It is related, I believe, of Zoroaster, the Persian philosopher, that he never laughed but twice — when he came into the world, and when he went out. My father had never been known to laugh at all ; I made careful inquiries among his friends, and none of them could remember ever having seen the muscles of that moveless face relax. And yet, cold, stern, and severe as he was, there were times when I could have loved him, had he suffered it ; but, on the last occasion of my having made an advance of this amiable nature, he gave me such a sound box on the ear, that I was careful ever afterwards how I permitted my feelings to get the better of me. Once, and once only, I ventured to remonstrate, in an awkward way though, I confess. I was then about nine years of age.

My father was sitting over his wine. It happened to be my birthday, and I was disposed to be on pleasant terms MAURICE'S ILL-TIMED HILARITY. 15 with everybody, friend or foe. I had begun to pluck up a spirit, though unfortunately that was a spirit of defiance. I filled a bumper, and in a rather hilarious manner said, ' Here's to your excellent health, Master Maurice, and yours too, father.' He put his glass down with a thump that startled me, and, fixing his cold grey piercing eyes on my own, cried, ' Come here, sir.' I knew that he merely wished to pinch my ear, and accordingly did not move. He repeated his summons, without any better effect ; then, glancing behind me to observe whether the door would favour a sudden retreat, I said, ' Are you really my father ?' He looked furious, but calmed himself with a great effort. ' Why, sir,' he asked, ' what do you mean by putting such a question?' ' Because you seem to hate me,' I replied, ' and that makes me think there may be some mistake.

I may be somebody else's son, and you don't know it.' I was not at all aware that these words were capable of a double in terpretation. I thought them quite adapted to the occasion. My father thought otherwise, and it was only by dint of the utmost agility that I contrived to slip from the room in time to evade the effects of his precipitate onset. From this hour he hated me more than ever, and, to be candid, I was by no means backward in returning the compliment. I had heard of vampires, and settled in my own mind that he must be one. I wondered how my mother could tolerate him. She was an angel, both in form and soul, and I was as much the object of her love as I was of my father's hate. My mother was all sweetness and compliance, and in my childish way I often used to marvel how fortune came to link together two natures so opposite.

I did not know then that this was one of her favourite freaks : nor need we waste time now by endeavouring to account for a matter which can not be satisfactorily cleared up. With all my mother's sweetness of disposition, however, she had her weak points. And who has not ? She was a very religious woman. I don't mean to imply that religion is a weakness — far from it, for that is the white robe of purity which angels always wear — but her sympathies were powerfully enlisted on behalf of the North American savages, of a grand scheme for their conversion, and the introduction among the several tribes of such civilized costume as would enable them to make a creditable appearance in a Christian congregation. My father cried ' Bah !' to no purpose. The barbarous habits and spiritual depravity of the red men were ever present to her imagination, and she was zealous in her endeavours to redress the evil.

She had tendered munificent donations to Dr. Bumblepuppy, our rector, and was now making, with her own hands, several decent garments for two Tuscarora chiefs, who had intimated an intention of apostatising from the faith of their fathers. The characters and foibles of my father and mother may perhaps develop themselves more as I proceed. I must now briefly sketch those of my sister. In feature she was said to be rather like myself — a comparison which I always viewed as a compliment. She had dark hair and eyes, very white, regular teeth, rosy lips, a fine figure, and a rather coquettish air, which promised at some future day to play a good deal of havoc in society. There was an innocence, an artlessness, moreover, in her manner, which was particularly winning, but, at the same time (you would scarcely have believed it), she was the veriest little quiz that ever flirted fan.

Doctor Bumblepuppy himself dreaded to encounter the archness of those speaking eyes, and once or twice catechised me closely respecting the nature of her remarks when his back was turned. I never dared to tell him half the droll things she said, however, or his vanity (of which he evidently had a fair share) would have undergone a severe mortification. The melody of my sister's laugh haunts me yet. It was like the music you often hear in a little mountain rill, when the bright waters make a pleasant gurgling sound among the white pebbles as they pass. That is her picture yonder ; mark the long delicately-pencilled lashes overshadowing the cheek. And look yonder again ; that pale, interesting portrait is my mother ; with what a sweet yet mournful smile she regards us ! So look down the spirits of the blest on those they love, when we, in our blindness, see nothing but empty space around.

The next — you cannot mistake it, there never were two such countenances — that is my father ; a white, hard face, something like Napoleon's ; forehead broad and high ; a keen, searching glance ; and upper lip wearing that misanthropic curl with which he chilled and repulsed all his acquaintance. A friend once told me that he believed him to be the author of the ' Junius Letters '—whether he was or not, I don't know, but talent certainly runs in the family. Another person whom I wish you to know is my tutor, Mr. Skelton, a tall, thin-faced gentleman with gold spectacles, a man of excellent abilities, but bashful as a girl. He has a great dread of my sister AVilhelmine, and would give the world to know what she thinks and says of him in private. If you will promise not to let the matter go further, I will let you into a secret.

He is rather partial to an elderly maiden lady (an eccentric character) who lives at the Grange hard by. Mr. Skelton took pains to repudiate this report, but everybody knows there is truth in it, or why would he glance into her pew on a Sunday morning ? and why did he run after her one day with a pocket-handkerchief, which she had dropped purposely for him to pick up ? I asked him once, in the middle of a Greek lesson, whether he liked her, and got a smart rap with the back of the book for my pains. I thought I was doing him a service. Lastly, let me introduce you to my grandfather, or the squire, as the people ofthe village termed him. A kinder-hearted old gentleman never ' A FINE OLD ENGLISH GENTLEMAN: 17 lived. He was my mother's father, and one of those worthy, generous, benevolent beings, who, like human suns, diffuse warmth and cheerfulness round the domestic circle.

He was particularly fond of me, and I always regarded him in the light of a father. He taught, me everything — to ride, to shoot, to throw a fly (I once caught him by the ear), to swim, to fence, as well as gave me a great deal of good advice. He showed me the difference between a brave man and a bully. He taught me what was high and honourable, and warned me against what was low and pififul. I have perhaps turned his lessons to poor account. As you accompany me in the pilgrimage of life, if you come to anything which strikes you as being base or paltry, that is myself; if, on the other hand, you meet with some action which calls forth your applause, that is my grandfather. All honour be to his memory, and choicest daisies deck the sod of the old man's slumber !

Chapter II

, SHOWS SOME CLOUDS THAT OCCASIONALLY HUNG OVER HAZELCOPSE ; AND, AMONG OTHER MATTERS, TREATS OF A NEW STUDY IN THE SCIENCE OF NUMBERS. It becomes necessary now that I should speak more particularly of my self. Remember this is professedly an autobiography, so that a little egotism ought not to be considered out of place. I was now in my thirteenth summer ; my limbs had not quite ' twice seven years' pith.' It is by no means an agreeable task to have to describe one's own personal appearance. I would rather not do so. Let me merely observe that I have reason to suppose I was by no means an ill-favoured boy. Dr. Bumblepuppy's good lady once told me that I was the exact picture of her son, who was a midshipman on board the Victory — and he had the reputation of being a remarkably handsome youth ; but, as it is quite possible for a plain person to bear a strong resemblance to another whose good looks are proverbial, I cannot come to any definite decision as to what those looks may have been, and leave you to form your own ideas respecting them.

And with regard to my disposition, pursuits, and propensities, hear what my father said one day —it will go further than any remarks of my own. He had called me into his study : and it is on this day that I intend the history of my life (such as it is) to open. ' Mr. Skelton has been complaining of you, sir ; he says you are a perfect dunce, and as idle as you are stupid. I am sorry to learn this, as I intend you for the Church. Hold your tongue : that is my decision. I warn you that you will bitterly repent this mis-spent time in after-life. The family has hitherto borne a respectable name — I beg that you will not disgrace it. You are always, I hear, either out with your horse, your gun, or your fishing-rod. Very well : I shall sell your horse ; I shall lock up your gun ; and I will put your fishing-apparatus into the fire.

Go.' I stood looking at him ; and, as he concluded the above affectionate harangue, I laughed. My father hated this strange laugh of mine, and had more than once declared it to be the most diabolical species of merriment he had ever witnessed. It was the more disagreeable to him as it emitted no sound, and seldom lasted more than three seconds, when my features immediately resumed their former placidity. On this occa sion he flew into a towering passion, and cried : « ' Have I not told you never to laugh when I speak, sir ? Have I taught you this ?' ' No,' returned I quickly ; ' I never saw you laugh.' • Begone — this instant !' and I vanished. My mother sat in her little octagonal boudoir, making a morning jacket for Snake-in-the-grass, a celebrated red-skin warrior. ' See, Maurice,' she cried, ' how do you think the Tuscarora king will like this ?

Here is a little pocket for his powder-horn and bag of bullets, and there's a slit for his tomahawk. Put it on, love, and let me see how he will look. Dear me ! the collar comes quite above your ears ; but we must make an allowance for his being a very large, stout man — indeed, Dr. Bumblepuppy says, quite a giant. Thank you, that will do.' She showed me a 'handsome waistcoat, also, which she had worked. It was for Bear's-brother, Snake-in-the-grass's particular friend. ' Mr. Skelton has been talking to Mr. Drummore, my dear mother,' said I, after I had admired the pattern of the waistcoat ; ' and I will play him some trick before the day is out. I hate him. What shall it be, Wilhelmine ? Shall I drop cobbler's wax into his shoes ; or shall I get him on the lake, take the plug out of the boat's bottom, and pretend we are going down ?' Wilhelmine was sitting at my mother's feet, working a sampler ; her beautiful eyes brightened, an arch smile played about her lips, and she said, ' Oh ! do ; and Constance and I will come down to the bank to look on.

Poor dear Mr. Skelton, how frightened he will be !' But another idea had entered my head. I felt anxious about the horse, gun, and fishing-rod, and wished to hear my grandfather's opinion what I had better do to prevent Mr. Drummore from carrying his threat into execution. I found the old man down by the lake ; I had loosed my great dog Gulliver, and we were hastening together to the water's edge. My grandfather turned round, and held up his hand for perfect silence and a cessation of the stamping. ' Hush, Maurice, my boy,' he said ; ' I've a capital run — the same big CAPTAIN ADAIR 'S ECCENTRICITIES. 19 jack that went away with my rod and line the other day ; he has had three minutes ;' — and there the old squire stood, watch in hand, waiting the right moment to strike his fish. I shall never forget the demure look his features wore, as he turned his gaze from the water up to the sky, and counterfeited a composure he was far from feeling. ' The four minutes are up,' cried I ; ' strike, grandfather, or you lose him.

See how he stirs the flags !' ' Let him gorge the bait,' said my grandfather, looking prodigiously calm, but with his heart beating all the time. Then he got himself ready, gave the line a sharp jerk, the rod bent like a whip, there was a sound as of a large covey of partridges rising, and thirty yards of silk were paid off the reel in a second. ' A heavy fish,' said the squire. ' Get away, Gulliver, from between my legs ; Maurice, take your shoes and stockings off, perhaps you'll have to go in after him. No, here he conies like a gentleman ;' — and a fine jack, of about six pounds in weight, lay gasping on the turf. My grandfather, having detached the hook, gave me the fish to carry, and we walked back to the house. You are acquainted with my father, my mother, my sister, my grand father, my tutor, and something of myself; let me now introduce you to a neighbour — not Doctor Bumblepuppy, we shall meet with him soon : I allude to an extraordinary old gentleman, a part of whose estate joined that of my father.

You might get to the house by the avenue and lodge gate, but I had a short cut through the cherry-orchard, and over a garden-wall. Captain Adair, formerly of the Light Dragoons, and now retired on half-pay, was a very eccentric character indeed. I have, in the course of my life, met with many mad people, but never with a case half so whimsical as his. About twelve months prior to the time of which I write, he had fallen from his horse, during a hard run with a pack of fox-hounds that he kept, and fractured his skull. The doctors repaired the skull, but they could not repair the brain, which had been injured by the accident; and Captain Adair, for three months afterwards, fancied himself a tea-pot. Putting one arm akimbo, by way of handle, he would stick the other straight out in an upward slant, to represent the spout.

He next believed himself to be an eight-day clock, and made an odd noise with his throat to illustrate the ticking, at the same time swaying one leg backwards and forwards as a substitute for pendulum ; occasionally knocking down his valet when he had completed the hour, and it became his duty to strike. This was the second stage of his lunacy. He had now arrived at the third, which was making some stir in the village, and, in common with that of other people, had excited my own boyish curiosity very much— for I liked anything droll. But of this new monomania by-and-by. Captain Adair, you must know, had been a widower some years, and his home circle now consisted merely of his sister, Miss Penelope (the spinster lady before alluded to, who, it was ill-naturedly said, set her cap 2 — at Mr. Skelton, my tutor), one daughter, a year or two younger than myself, and a son of exactly my own age.

As we were such close neighbours, a strong intimacy, of course, existed between the families ; indeed, Vanderdecken Adair and his sister Constance and I had been companions from our earliest childhood. I had only to jump a low wall, to get into Captain Adair's garden. There was one particular spot, too, where I had knocked out some stones to form steps for the accommodation of my sister. This spot was a very sweet and secluded one. It was that sort of joyous trysting-place and childish rendezvous to which our memory in after days loves to revert, as the scene of many a happy meeting and light-hearted frolic peculiar to the ' wild freshness of life's morning.' Vanderdecken and I, I should tell you, were famed as the pests of the neighbourhood. We were always in some scrape. If our two heads were seen together, it was well known that evil would come of it.

We kept Miss Penelope in one continual state of alarm and agitation, and were noted far and wide as two incorrigible urchins, who were viciously set on mischief, and would come to no good. And I am ashamed to add that my grandfather, if not in words, at least in deeds, secretly connived at these delinquencies of ours. Many a time I have seen the old man almost purple in the face with laughter, and his pig-tail vibrating fearfully, as he inquired, ' Did Master Maurice actually do so-and-so ? Oh, the young scoundrel !' and then the pigtail would begin to bob about again, even more violently than before. To resume. I jumped into the garden and found Constance and Vanderdecken sitting on the oak bench under the old silver fir. Constance looked sorrowful ; so did Vanderdecken. I asked the reason. ' Papa has a new crochet.' « What is that ?' ' Making everybody count seven,' said Constance, laughing. ' 7" have been counting ; Van has been counting ; Aunt Penelope is counting now ; they're all counting.

He makes them do it. You can't refuse.' ' How droll,' said I ; ' I should like to witness it. Van, go and see if they will admit us.' Captain Adair and I had always been on the best of terms, for we were brother-sportsmen. Van did as he was bidden, and I was left alone with Constance. I was rather fond of this old crooked bench under the silver pine. Hang Van, how quickly he always performed his errands. ' You may come,' he said ; ' Aunt Penelope gave me leave to admit you ; but I don't think you have much to thank her for, as she means to slip out the moment you enter. She won't, though.' And a few minutes afterwards I was ushered into the room where Captain Adair sat, like a king surrounded by his courtiers. He occupied the centre of this magic circle. He had hung his wi°- on the shoulder of the chair ; his face wore an agreeable expression of EVERYBODY COUNTS SEVEN. 21 conscious dignity, and in his right hand, as the emblem of regal sway, he held a silver-knobbed walking-stick, with which ever and anon he thumped the floor loudly, to command attention.

All were busy counting. ' Come, sir,' cried Captain Adair, the moment I entered. (Vander decken and Constance were taking the keyhole by turns.) I sat down near him. ' Count seven,' said Captain Adair, in a tone which left me no alter native. 'One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.' ' Count twice seven.' I did so. ' Count five times seven.' I did that likewise. ' Count seven times seven.' A thump on the floor with the stick. Penelope rose, with the intention of leaving the room. The captain ordered her back in his most peremptory manner, and set her a fresh task. 'Indeed, I have counted seventeen times seven already/urged Penelope; ' and that is enough, brother, at one sitting, I should think.' ' Count seventy times seven, madam,' said the captain savagely, and she resumed her seat. There were three of the servants making the same arithmetical pro gression.

The butler, Mr. Sticks, looked quite terrified. I wish you could have seen the expression of his white face. He and the house maid had been occupied ever since breakfast-time, and, together, had counted upwards of seven hundred times seven. Dr. Bumblepuppy, too, who had pooh-poohed the thing when they first told him of it, had been made to count twenty-seven sevens before he was able to seize his hat and effect an escape. I wondered whether Captain Adair could make my father count. I felt as though many a box on the ear, and tug of the hair, and rap on the knuckles, would be erased from my memory could I only once see him put through his multiplication-table for ten minutes in a like absurd manner.