Most of my new associates were absent on duty; the ’tween-decks was crammed with casks and cases, and chests, and bags, and hammocks; the noise of the caulkers was resumed over my head and all around me; the stench of bilge-water, combining with the smoke of tobacco, the effluvia of gin and beer, the frying of beef-steaks and onions, and red herrings—­the pressure of a dark atmosphere and a heavy shower of rain, all conspired to oppress my spirits, and render me the most miserable dog that ever lived.  I had almost resigned myself to despair, when I recollected the captain’s invitation, and mentioned it to Flyblock.  “That’s well thought of,” said he; “Murphy also dines with him; you can both go together, and I dare say he will be very glad of your company.”

A captain seldom waits for a midshipman, and we took good care he should not wait for us.  The dinner was in all respects one “on service.”  The captain said a great deal, the lieutenants very little, and the midshipmen nothing at all; but the performance of the knife and fork, and wine-glass (as far as it could be got at), were exactly in the inverse ratio.  The company consisted of my own captain, and two others, our first lieutenant, Murphy, and myself.

As soon as the cloth was removed, the captain filled me out a glass of wine, desired I would drink it, and then go and see how the wind was.  I took this my first admonitory hint in its literal sense and meaning; but having a very imperfect idea of the points of the compass, I own I felt a little puzzled how I should obtain the necessary information.  Fortunately for me, there was a weathercock on the old church-steeple; it had four letters, which I certainly did know were meant to represent the cardinal points.  One of these seemed so exactly to correspond with the dial above it, that I made up my mind the wind must be West, and instantly returned to give my captain the desired information, not a little proud with my success in having obtained it so soon.  But what was my surprise to find that I was not thanked for my trouble; the company even smiled and winked at each other; the first lieutenant nodded his head and said, “Rather green yet.”  The captain, however, settled the point according to the manners and customs, in such cases, used at sea.  “Here, youngster,” said he, “here is another glass for you; drink that, and then Murphy will show you what I mean.”  Murphy was my chaperon; he swallowed his wine—­rather a gorge deployee; put down his glass very energetically, and, bowing, left the room.

When we had got fairly into the hall, we had the following duet:—­“What the h——­ brought you back again, you d——­d young greenhorn?  Could not you take a hint, and be off, as the captain intended?  So I must lose my wine for such a d——­d young whelp as you.  I’ll pay you off for this, my tight fellow, before we have been many weeks together.”

I listened to this elegant harangue, with some impatience, and much more indignation.  “I came back,” said I, “to tell the captain how the wind was.”