SIR H. V. HUNTLEY'S PEREGRINE SCRAMBLE. * THIS fiction is one
of those nautical novels which the success of Cooper and Marryat has produced in such abundance during the last fifteen or twenty years. Peregrine Scramble, however, differs from the majority in the total absence of invention. The fiction appears more than founded on fact ; it looks like fact itself. Sir H. V. Huntley intimates that such is the case, "although some attempts may have been made to render the recital more agreeable by the addition of some little colour- ing" : but it is difficult to see in what this colouring consists. It is not in the story; for that is merely the career of a midshipman and lieute- nant, from towards the close of the great war till the battle of Navarino. It is not in the adventures ; for they are not remarkably striking or even singular —nothing more than might happen to any well-connected, dashing, and rather lucky youth in the service. It is not in the style of
• Peregrine Scramble ; or Thirty Years' Adventures of a Blue Jacket. By Captain Sir H. V. Huntley, R.N. In two volumes. Published by Bentley.
narrative ; for that is as devoid of imagination as well can be, though possessing a kind of solid literalness, which gives an air of vera. city if not reality to the story. Neither is it in the persons; who are mostly of a common description, with less of the peculiarities of nautical life about them than we usually see. The only artistical attempts
sist in depicting at length the singularities of some of the characters; and in the dialogues, that savour of additions with a view to piquancy, which, however, they scarcely attain.
In several points of view the book has a strong resemblance to Peter Simple : rather from accidental coincidence, however, than actual imitation ; unless it be said that Marryat's picture of a green youth on first joining his ship and during the usual service of the period was so generally true that a kindred subject of necessity involved similar de. scription. The parents of both heroes are clergymen ; but Mr. Scramble, though a weak and pompous man, is of rigid respectability and sincere religion, whereas Mr. Simple, it will be remembered, was placed in the church for a family living. Both heroes are involved in the equivocal ad. ventures which are likely to occur to an innocent boy just carried from5 quiet home to the profligacy of a seaport-town, and the roughness of a ship of war five-and-thirty years ago. But the resemblance is only generic. In Peregrine Scramble there is little of the tact that in- dicated the unconscious scrapes into which Simple was falling, without going too deeply into unpleasant subjects, or showing them too clearly. The adventures in both books are of an average kind ; no great battles, of which a midshipman could not give an account from personal knowledge, nor any incidents of such a character as rarely occur. There is nothing in each tale that might not happen to the majority in a common round of active service. But in Peregrine Scramble there is little choice or selection ; no generalization of the individuality by such striking cis. cumstances as the gale in Peter Simple ; no variety or relief like that produced by the captivity in France, and the escape from the French prison. Neither is there so much of personal story, slight as that wet The necessity for any elevation or enrichment of every-day nature hardly miters into Captain Huntley's mind. For the critically incline], the comparison of the two books, Scramble and Simple, is a curious subject of study, to see how the same generic topics are handled by two different minds, each possessing a practical knowledge of the themes, and kindred though not equal powers of delineation ; but one deficient in imagination, largeness, and tact: neither writer can be said to have refine- ment.
Although far inferior to Marryat's chef d'eeuvrel Peregrine Scramble is readable, and not without interest, from its obvious truth, except when the writer is aiming at what he calls "colouring." In fact, it is almost an autobiography, though called a fiction ; for the form is hardly attained, from the writer's deficiency, in art. The varieties, dangers, noveltia, and humours of a nautical life, however, form a story of themselves, and frequently occasion startling incidentm—The ehief warlike \service in which Scramble is engaged was on the coast of America daring the last war. Various incidents take place during its continuance; but perhaps the following on the capture of an American coaster is the most genuine bit of nature.
" The prize was a mere coaster, old and badly found ; and Jeremiah thought he could run by the blockading ships without being seen; which but for the guard. boats he probably would have done. The schooner, with a few hundred barred of flour on board, was all the property Jerry possessed in the world ; but he toot it very calmly, asking what was to be done with his wife and four little child's:, who were eailing about with him to save the expense of a home. Jerry was coo tainly a good creature, uncouth as he was in appearance: his little children played about him on the deck of the schooner, where they were allowed to remain; and though he had lost everything he had to enable him to provide for them, yet ha as cheerfully played with them as be always had before. " The prize had now remained with us three days, when a message was seat to bring Jerry on board the Splendid. " Nothing seemed to surprise him: he calmly walked up the side, nodded it true Yankee style to the officers on deck, then, observing a good deal of bright iron-work about the quarter-deck, he said to one of the men, 'Well, eailor,Igues you like dry weather in this big ship?' taking a highly-polished belaying pin ad of the rack, and keenly regarding it. " Sir Gravely Dreadnought, cocked-hat epaulettes and all, new came out, tin orderly standing attention as he passed. Sir Gravely constitutionally always en' petted to create a sensation; but he failed with Jerry; who, having eyed lin], very quietly said to the same man, ' Well, sailor, thats the Captain, I guess?' " Sir Gravely sent for Jerry, who went over to him with the same indifferent', that he had evinced throughout: he, however, opened the conversation, saying, Well,' a word with which he began every sentence, Captain, will you send S all to Bermuda, or can you swap us for Britishers? ' " Sir Gravely was a man to be amused, in spite of his mightiness, and owed an excellent heart: he had from his cabin often seen Jerry and his little childrel playing together in the schooner, and he knew his story. The prize would Is nothing divided amongst five hundred and ninety men; and he summoned is ship's company aft, told them that the vessel and cargo was the only proeutl that Jerry had in the world to support his family upon; that he, Sir Grave1p would gladly give the ship's company one hundred pounds if they would as rug give up their claim to the vessel and cargo, which he would then return to Je and liberate. The crew whispered together a moment or two, then smiled, they were willing, and gave Sir Gravely three hearty cheers in exchange for one hundred pounds. Jerry had not heard the cause of all this. Sir Orgill sent for and told him: for the first time in his life Jerry was moved to astonish'meat. He looked Sir Gravely through and through—then he surveyed the e.6' sera and crew—he clasped his hands together, went upon his knees, and, his head upon one of the carronades, we could hear him say, and 'twas 511 could say, 'Well, God bless the Britisher,' and 'Illy poor children.' He l up, and the tears were streaming down his cheeks; he could bear up against fortune, but he had from his cradle been taught to think the English on and severe. An hour after he was on his way back to Richmond, Sir GIs not being able to guarantee him a safe passage to any port outside the bay; , as the poor fellow passed the ship, he drew his wife and little children De "' line, while he and two Negro sailors which formed his crew, gave three hi their hats waving in gratitude to us ; and the last we heard from Jerry Well, good bye, Britislers: "
Mr. Scramble served in the ship which carried Napoleon to St. Helena and he gives a different account of the Emperor's general bearing behaviour from that which is generally entertained.
"The next morning the anchor was taken up, and the ship proceeded W She had hardly cleared the headland of the bay, when a frigate was observed coming down towards us ; this was the Eurotas, having on board several officers who had served under Napoleon, and were now expatriated. Both ships when sufficiently. near were hove-to, and the officers which the Eurotas was to con- voy to their respective places of banishment, came on board the flag-ship, to take leave of their late great leader; they were richly dressed in uniforms of various kinds, and most of them decorated with emblems of their courage in battle and devotion to their Emperor. One especially I noticed: he was a tall, fine figure, with a complexion and countenance expressive of the service and scenes which he hadgone through. He was dressed in the light blue cavalry uniform of the Polish Lancers, and wore many decorations. Amongst the group he was ccospicuous for his soldierlike bearing, and seemed the only one who severely felt his separation from his idolized chief. This was Savary. It was at least half an hour before Napoleon called them to his presence; during which time they walked or stood upon the deck. At length the door of the cabin was thrown open, and Napoleon walked out to meet them. Their homage was ardent and profound ; but Savary, who had gone through the thickest of the fire, who at the head of his Lancers had dashed upon the solid and impenetrable squares, who had braved death in all its most sudden and dire shapes unmoved, now fell upon Napoleon's shoulder to hide the tears which burst though all restraint to show the affection of the heart which glowed within the breast of this intrepid, able, and faithful soldier. The only one amongst them all who stood without emotion was Napoleon himself: not even the passionate grief of Savary affected him. He stood amongst his late followers for the last time,—men who had placed him on a throne, and who would at any hoar have died in defence of it: he was as cold ae the bronze figure which so often represents him, and stood just as he is there, motionless, frowning, and apparently absorbed in other thoughts. A few short minutes was all he gave to them to say farewell: they seemed disappointed generally, but Savary could not join them in this; be separated himself from them, and the bitter tears continued to flow down his weather-worn and manly face: to him it was a dreadful day. Napoleon retired to the cabin, and these officers returned to the Eurotas; when both ships made sail to prosecute their respective vayages. "Until this moment I had felt much in reflecting upon the humbled condition of so great a man as Napoleon; but when I saw him either really unfeeling or affecting to be so, I confess I thought he merited all his inflictions. If he really felt, would it not have been creditable to his nature ? And where then was the glory of concealing it? Why should he make it appear to those who had so de- votedly served him that he had used them as he wanted them, and threw them aside as of no value when he no longer could command either their skill in the cabinet or their swords in the field? Napoleon from that hour was at a discount amongst us—with the blue jackets at least."
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