The Autobiography of Cockney Tom

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PART I.



I, Cockney Tom, am the son of a gun, who was so called because his father was a general in the Navy. Now this requires a little explanation. My grandfather, you must know, was master-at-arms on board the Royal Standard, 74 guns. It was his duty as a warrant-officer to officiate when a man was to be flogged for getting drunk, or any other crime. They were tied up to a grating and punished with the cat in those days. Thank goodness it is not so now in the British Navy. It was the duty of the armorer to attend the surgeon of the ship in full uniform, with drawn sword, to see that the prisoner received his allowance. The armorer was to count the lashes, and the doctor’s duty was to tell the boatswain to cast the man off when he saw he could bear no more. So this is how the aforesaid son of a gun’s grandfather was nicknamed the flogmaster-general. Gun was armorer’s mate, fought in three engagements, and got his discharge without pension. His brother was not so fortunate. He rose by merit to be a second lieutenant, and one day was ordered to man the boat and go on shore at Portsmouth with orders for the ship. When he reached the stairs the men begged so hard to be allowed to go on shore for a short time to purchase some necessaries, that Gun’s brother gave them leave, on their engaging, on honour, to return soon. Imagine his feelings when he returned to find that all his men had deserted. In this dilemma Gun’s brother did not know what to do; to go on board he was ashamed, and therefore he made up his mind to follow the example of the men and bolt. He did so, was caught, and was sent to Portsmouth gaol to be identified by his brother officers. They came the next morning and took him on board, and placed him in irons. A court-martial was called; he was reduced from lieutenant to common seaman, and then they sentenced him to two dozen lashes, which he received on his birthday as a very unwelcome present.
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