I put up at Billett’s, at the George, as a matter of course, because it was the resort of all the naval aristocracy, and directly opposite to the admiral’s office.  The first person for whom I made my kind inquiries was my captain elect; but he herded not with his brother epaulettes.  He did not live at the George, nor did he mess at the Crown; he was not at the Fountain, nor the Parade Coffee-house; and the Blue Posts ignored him; but he was to be heard of at the Star and Garter, on the tip of Portsmouth Point.  He did not even live there, but generally resided on board.  This does not savour well; I never like your captains who live on board their ships in harbour; no ship can be comfortable, for no one can do as he pleases, which is the life and soul of a man-of-war, when in port.

To the Star and Garter I went, and asked for Captain G. I hoped I should not find him here; for this house had been, time out of mind, the rendezvous of warrant-officers, mates, and midshipmen.  Here, however, he was; I sent up my card, and was admitted to his presence.  He was seated in a small parlour, with a glass of brandy and water, or at least the remains of it, before him; his feet were on the fender, and several official documents which he had received that morning were lying on the table.  He rose as I entered, and shewed me a short, square-built frame, with a strong projection of the sphere, or what the Spaniards call bariga.  This rotundity of corporation was, however, supported by as fine a pair of Atlas legs as ever were worn by a Bath chairman.  His face was rather inclined to be handsome; the features regular, a pleasant smile upon his lips, and a deep dimple in his chin.  But his most remarkable feature was his eye; it was small, but piercing, and seemed to possess that long-sought desideratum of the perpetual motion, since it was utterly impossible to fix it for one moment on any object:  and there was in it a lurking expression, which, though something of a physiognomist, I could not readily decipher.

“Mr Mildmay,” said my skipper, “I am extremely happy to see you, and still more so that you have been appointed to my ship; will you be seated?”

As I obeyed, he turned round, and, rubbing his hands, as if he had just laid down his soap, he continued, “I always make it a rule, previous to an officer joining my ship, to learn something of his character from my brother captains; it is a precaution which I take, as I consider that one scabby sheep, &c. is strictly applicable to our service.  I wish to have good officers and perfect gentlemen about me.  There are, no doubt, many officers who can do their duty well, and with whom I should have no fault to find; but then there is a way of doing it—­a modus in rebus, which a gentleman only can attain to; coarse manners, execrations, and abusive language render the men discontented, degrade the service, and are therefore very properly forbidden in the second article of war.  Under such officers, the men always work unwillingly.  I have taken the liberty to make some inquiries about you; and can only say, that all I have heard is to your advantage.  I have no doubt we shall suit each other; and be assured it shall be my study to make you as comfortable as possible.”