Free The Golden Ocean by Patrick O’Brian Page B

indiscriminately.
    ‘Sean, Sean, for the glory of God,’ cried Peter in Irish, ‘will you stop your murderous noise, and the Commodore asking are there savages in the heart of the ship and the Admiral no less himself advancing in splendour like a king to make us a compliment?’
    At the sound of his voice and the tongue that he spoke they all turned to see, and he continued passionately, ‘It is the fine figure we make now to the Saxons, we the most polished and elegant, most ancient of people. Where should the world look for an example if not to us? And the moon-calf Sean shaming us all in the face of the people, his soul to the devil.’
    ‘Now listen,’ said Sean, scratching the back of his leg and blushing under the blood that flowed from his forehead; but his explanation was lost in Irish cries of ‘Shame,’ and ‘Ignorant peasant,’ and ‘Violent fellow that does be putting a mockon the nation’; and in the righteous peace that ensued Peter called him aside. ‘What was the trouble?’ he asked.
    ‘It was some question about the birth of Saint Patrick,’ said Sean. ‘The Munstermen said—faith, I never heard what they said; but they were certainly wrong.’
    ‘Let them say, let them say: and I tell you this, Sean—and listen, now—if once again you ever do this, I will cast you off and wipe out your name.’ Pushing Sean crossly away, Peter said to Mr Dennis, ‘Sir, I think the trouble is finished. It was a religious disagreement.’
    ‘Good,’ said the lieutenant, wiping his forehead. ‘You speak the lingo, so tell them from me that the first man to mention a church, or
any
moral subject whatever, will be hanged and lose a month’s pay. Where are those flaming Marines? Oh, here you are at last, Gordon. Now you go back to the cockpit,’ he said, patting Peter’s shoulder, ‘and sit perfectly still. For if there is the least sound from there while the Admiral’s aboard you will every one of you be disrated and finish the commission cleaning the heads.’
    Peter made his way back and entered the berth as the Admiral was piped up the side. There were several other midshipmen now, and they were obviously discussing FitzGerald, for they stopped as Peter came in.
    ‘This is the other Teague,’ said Keppel.
    ‘My name is not Teague,’ cried Peter. He had had a trying day, and he was in no mood to be joked at.
    ‘Be calm, Teague,’ said another midshipman, and fell to whistling Lillibullero.
    ‘Take it easy, Teague,’ said another.
    But Peter would not take it easy: he hesitated, trying to quell the wild indignation; but he failed; it possessed him, and with a furious shriek he hurled himself upon his country’s oppressors.

Chapter Four
    ‘M Y DEAR PETER,’ SAID MR WALTER, ‘I HAVE ASKED YOU TO come here because I think it my duty to your father to speak to you seriously. You are not making a good impression, neither you nor your friend.’
    ‘I know it, sir,’ answered Peter, hanging his head.
    ‘You are very ignorant of the service, but at least you know that a midshipman’s whole professional future depends on his captain’s report?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘Peter, are you quite sure that you are suited for the Navy? Mr Saumarez tells me that you and your friend know no more about the work of a ship than, as he says, a pair of female Barbary apes; and I am sorry to say that the master finds you stupid.’
    ‘Sir, I am stupid with the master’s questions about navigation: I try very hard, but I can’t find out the answers. I never learnt the mathematics at home, not beyond the Rule of Three.’
    ‘It is true,’ said the chaplain, shaking his head. ‘I did my best to help your poor father to some knowledge of Euclid, but it was labour lost; though as a Grecian he outpaced us all.’
    ‘And as for knowing nothing about the sea,’ cried Peter, red with the humiliating recollection; ‘it is
not
fair, indeed it is not.’
    ‘Quietly, quietly.’
    ‘I beg pardon, but it is not.