Читать книгу Dick Rodney; or, The Adventures of an Eton Boy онлайн

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Generally we saw only coasters creeping along, or colliers bound for the Thames, with their dingy canvas, their black sides, and encumbered decks; but more than once we were favored by seeing a British line-of-battle ship in all her glory—one of the channel squadron, no doubt—with her squared yards, her flush decks, her snow-white hummocks in the nettings—the ports triced up, and the triple tier of sixty-eights or thirty-twos peering through them; the scarlet ensign floating at her gaff peak; the officers lounging on the poop, the red-coated marines at their posts; and high over all, the long whip-like pennant streaming on the air, from the mainmast head.

Such a sight, under a splendid sunshine, when the summer sea was only rippled by a gentle breeze, to catch which every inch of canvas was spread to the yard-heads, might make the coldest heart quicken; and it certainly made me think of my mother's wishes, and of old Rodney in his bob-wig and ruffles, scrambling at the head of his boarders, sword in hand, up the carved and gilded side of the Spanish galleon—of Boscawen and Benbow, Captain Cook, and Robinson Crusoe; for the real and the ideal were all blended together in my wayward mind.