Mr. Tickell delivered the mind of the united midshipmen when he
proposed Dodd's health in their mess-room, "as a navigator, a
mathematician, a seaman, a gentleman, and a brick, with three times
three."
Dodd never spoke to his officers like a ruffian, nor yet palavered them,
but he had a very pleasant way of conveying appreciation of an officer's
zeal, by a knowing nod with a kindly smile on the heels of it. As for the
men, they seldom came in contact with the captain of a well-officered
ship: this crew only knew him at first as a good-tempered soul, who
didn't bother about nothing. But one day, as they lay becalmed south of
the line, a jolly foretopman came on the quarter-deck with a fid of soup,
and saluting and scraping, first to the deck, then to the captain, asked
him if he would taste that.
"Yes, my man. Smoked!"
"Like ---- and blazes, your honour, axing your pardon, and the deck's."
"Young gentleman," said Dodd to Mr. Meredith, a midshipman, "be so good
as to send the cook aft."
The cook came, and received, not an oath nor a threat but a remonstrance,
and a grim warning.
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