In consequence of the
cabins being thus occupied, we could not preserve the neatness
and order which are so essential to comfort, and which need not be
dispensed with even in a short voyage.
Our commandant, Mr. Goldsmith, a descendant of the brother of the
poet, and who appeared to have inherited the benevolence of his
distinguished relative, was indefatigable in his exertions to render
us happy. He had procured abundant supplies for the table, which was
every day spread with a profusion of good things, while eight or ten
different kinds of wine, in addition to ale and porter, were placed
at the disposal of the guests. Nothing, indeed, was wanting, except a
French cook. No single meal had ever disagreed with us in France; but
though partaking sparingly, we felt the inconvenience of the heavy
English mode of cookery.
Amongst the attendants at table was one who speedily grew into the
good graces of all the passengers. A little fellow, eight years
old, but who did not look more than seven, placed himself at the
commandant's elbow, who immediately upon seeing him exclaimed, with a
benevolent smile, "What, are you here, Jemmy? then we are all right."
Jemmy, it seems, was the boatswain's son, and no diminutive page
belonging to a spoiled lady of quality, or Lilliputian tiger in the
service of a fashionable aspirant, could have been dressed in more
accurate costume.
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