It was Grubbins's custom to throw his handkerchief over his head,
recline in his chair and take a short nap during recess. Watching
my opportunity, as he dozed, I managed to slip his handkerchief
from his face and substitute my own, moistened with chloroform. In
a few minutes he was insensible. Tom and I then quickly shaved his
head, beard, and eyebrows, blackened his face with a mixture of
vitriol and burnt cork, and fled. There was a row and scandal the
next day. My father always excused me by asserting that Grubbins
had got drunk,--but somehow found it convenient to procure me an
appointment in her Majesty's navy at an early day.
CHAPTER II.
An official letter, with the Admiralty seal, informed me that I was
expected to join H. M. ship Belcher, Captain Boltrope, at
Portsmouth, without delay. In a few days I presented myself to a
tall, stern-visaged man, who was slowly pacing the leeward side of
the quarter-deck. As I touched my hat he eyed me sternly:--
"So ho! Another young suckling. The service is going to the
devil. Nothing but babes in the cockpit and grannies in the board.
Boatswain's mate, pass the word for Mr. Cheek!"
Mr. Cheek, the steward, appeared and touched his hat.
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