After they passed St. Helena, Major Dobbin’s
gaiety and strength was such as to astonish all his
fellow passengers. He larked with the midshipmen,
played single-stick with the mates, ran up the shrouds
like a boy, sang a comic song one night to the amusement
of the whole party assembled over their grog after
supper, and rendered himself so gay, lively, and amiable
that even Captain Bragg, who thought there was nothing
in his passenger, and considered he was a poor-spirited
feller at first, was constrained to own that the Major
was a reserved but well-informed and meritorious officer.
“He ain’t got distangy manners, dammy,”
Bragg observed to his first mate; “he wouldn’t
do at Government House, Roper, where his Lordship and
Lady William was as kind to me, and shook hands with
me before the whole company, and asking me at dinner
to take beer with him, before the Commander-in-Chief
himself; he ain’t got manners, but there’s
something about him—” And thus Captain
Bragg showed that he possessed discrimination as a
man, as well as ability as a commander.
But a calm taking place when the Ramchunder was within
ten days’ sail of England, Dobbin became so
impatient and ill-humoured as to surprise those comrades
who had before admired his vivacity and good temper.
He did not recover until the breeze sprang up again,
and was in a highly excited state when the pilot came
on board. Good God, how his heart beat as the
two friendly spires of Southampton came in sight.
CHAPTER LVIII
Our Friend the Major
Our Major had rendered himself so popular on board
the Ramchunder that when he and Mr. Sedley descended
into the welcome shore-boat which was to take them
from the ship, the whole crew, men and officers, the
great Captain Bragg himself leading off, gave three
cheers for Major Dobbin, who blushed very much and
ducked his head in token of thanks. Jos, who
very likely thought the cheers were for himself, took
off his gold-laced cap and waved it majestically to
his friends, and they were pulled to shore and landed
with great dignity at the pier, whence they proceeded
to the Royal George Hotel.
Although the sight of that magnificent round of beef,
and the silver tankard suggestive of real British
home-brewed ale and porter, which perennially greet
the eyes of the traveller returning from foreign parts
who enters the coffee-room of the George, are so invigorating
and delightful that a man entering such a comfortable
snug homely English inn might well like to stop some
days there, yet Dobbin began to talk about a post-chaise
instantly, and was no sooner at Southampton than he
wished to be on the road to London. Jos, however,
would not hear of moving that evening. Why was
he to pass a night in a post-chaise instead of a great
large undulating downy feather-bed which was there
ready to replace the horrid little narrow crib in
which the portly Bengal gentleman had been confined
