The first edition of this book is dated 1842. The publisher was George Routledge and Sons. The number of pages is 303.

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General information

Captain Frederick Marryat was born July 10 1792, and died August 8 1848. He retired from the British navy in 1828 in order to devote himself to writing. In the following 20 years he wrote 26 books, many of which are among the very best of English literature, and some of which are still in print.

Marryat had an extraordinary gift for the invention of episodes in his stories. He says somewhere that when he sat down for the day’s work, he never knew what he was going to write. He certainly was a literary genius.

“Percival Keene” was published in 1842, the nineteenth book to flow from Marryat’s pen.

This e-text was transcribed in 1998 by Nick Hodson, and was re- formatted in 2003, and again in 2005.

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Contents

Chapter I.
A few miles from the town of Southampton there is an old mansion-house, which has been for centuries known as Madeline Hall, in the possession of the de Versely family.

Chapter II.
There is no security in this world. A dissolution of Parliament took place, and on the following election the Honourable Captain Delmar’s constituents, not being exactly pleased at the total indifference which he had shown to their interests, took upon themselves to elect another member in his stead, who, as Captain Delmar had previously done, promised everything, and in all probability would follow the honourable captain’s example by performing nothing.

Chapter III.
I think that the reader will agree with me that my mother showed in her conduct great strength of character.

Chapter IV.
As soon as I was clear of the door, I looked up into Ben’s face and said, “Father, where are we going?“

Chapter V.
As soon as I gained the play-ground, which was, in fact, nothing more than a small piece of waste land, to which we had no more claim than any other people, I sat down by a post, and commenced my dinner off what Mr. O’Gallagher had thought proper to leave me.

Chapter VI.
When my aunt Milly called me in the morning, that I might be up and have my breakfast in time for school, I felt as if two years had passed over my head during the last twenty-four hours.

Chapter VII.
As soon as school was dismissed, I went straight to the rooms of Captain Bridgeman, and told him how I had been treated.

Chapter VIII.
The boys had been saving up all their money to purchase fireworks for the celebrated 5th of November—a day on which it was said that certain persons, finding it impossible to reform the Lords and Commons, had determined to get rid of them at once: why they have not been in similar danger every year since the first attempt was made, I know not; certain it is, that it is the only reform measure that can ever be effectual.

Chapter IX.
As soon as it was ascertained that Mr. O’Gallagher was gone, my grandmother insisted upon my being sent to another school, and on this occasion my mother made the inquiries herself, and I was despatched to one much nearer home, and being treated well, not only played fewer tricks, but advanced rapidly in my education; so rapidly indeed, that my grandmother began to think that I was not so bad a boy as I used to be.

Chapter X.
About six months after I had blown up the school of Mr. O’Gallagher, the company to which my father Ben belonged was ordered afloat again, and shortly afterwards sailed for the East Indies, in the Redoubtable, 74.

Chapter XI.
The Honourable Captain Delmar was now a frequent visitor to my mother, and a good customer to the library.

Chapter XII.
Another year of my existence passed rapidly away; I was nearly thirteen years old, a sturdy bold boy, well fitted for the naval profession, which I now considered decided upon, and began to be impatient to leave school, and wondered that we heard nothing of Captain Delmar, when news was received from another quarter.

Chapter XIII.
About a month after my aunt’s marriage, a letter was received from Captain Delmar, who had arrived at Spithead, requesting my mother to send me to Portsmouth as soon as she could, and not go to the trouble or expense of fitting me out, as he would take that upon himself.

Chapter XIV.
Why is it that I detain the reader with Mr. Culpepper and his family? I don’t know, but I certainly have an inclination to linger over every little detail of events which occurred upon my first plunging into the sea of life, just as naked boys on the New River side stand shivering a while, before they can make up their minds to dash into the unnatural element; for men are not ducks, although they do show some affinity to geese by their venturing upon the treacherous fluid.

Chapter XV.
Although the aversion which I had taken to the whole Culpepper family was so great, that I could have done anything to annoy them, my mind was now so fully occupied with the information which I had collected relative to my supposed birth and parentage, that I could not think of mischief.

Chapter XVI.
The next morning, at daylight, the blue Peter was hoisted at the foremast, and the gun fired as a signal for sailing; all was bustle—hoisting in, clearing boats of stock, and clearing the ship of women and strangers.

Chapter XVII.
I was soon in the high road, and clear of the town of Chatham.

Chapter XVIII.
Although I have so much to say as to oblige me to pass over without notice the majority of my companions, I think I ought to dedicate one chapter to a more particular description of those with whom I was now principally in contact on board of the Calliope.

Chapter XIX.
The next morning, when we arrived at Funchal, we found that our orders were for the West Indies: we stayed one day to take in wine and then hove up the anchor, and went on to our destination.

Chapter XX.
The Arrow schooner had suffered very severely in the contest, having lost her commanding officer and thirteen men killed and wounded: indeed, had not the Calliope been at hand, it was the general opinion that the Stella would have overpowered her, notwithstanding that the latter had lost her mainmast, for the Arrow was completely dismantled, and would not have been able to have made sail.

Chapter XXI.
IT was not until three or four days after the ship had sailed from Martinique that the captain spoke to me.

Chapter XXII.
In three days we had gained the latitude of Berbice, and on the fourth morning the men at the mast-head were keeping a sharp look-out for any strange sail.

Chapter XXIII.
The admiral was very kind to me, and shook hands with me when I left him.

Chapter XXIV.
Four nights and three days we remained in this way; during which my men had nothing to do but to exercise at the guns, and of that I took care they should have a good spell.

Chapter XXV.
As it may be supposed, my men were completely worn out with the fatigue and excitement of the day; and Cross said, “There’s no saying how this will end, Mr. Keene; but, at all events, we have not the worst of it at present.

Chapter XXVI.
The prizes proved to be the Diligente brig, of fourteen guns, and two hundred and ten men, and Caroline schooner, of eight guns, and one hundred and twenty men—they had done a great deal of mischief, and their capture was of importance.

Chapter XXVII.
I had written to Cross, informing him of my promotion, and his being appointed to the Diligente.

Chapter XXVIII.
On the third day, Tommy Dott and Mr. Maxwell went on board, imagining that they had had a miraculous escape, and the two old planters and I were left the only inmates of the house to welcome the resurrection of Mammy Crissobella, who was again as busy as before.

Chapter XXIX.
As it was too soon to present myself to the admiral, I dressed, ready to go on shore, and hoisted the number of the Diligente as given by the admiral at Jamaica; but, as I expected, it was not known to the guard-ship, and there was much surmise among the early risers as to what might be the large ship, schooner, and brig-of-war, which had entered.

Chapter XXX.
The next morning I called at Lord de Versely’s and sent up my card.

Chapter XXXI.
The Circe, thirty-two, to which I had been appointed, was a small but very beautiful frigate and as far as I could judge by her build as she lay on the stocks, had every requisite for sailing well.

Chapter XXXII.
I must say that I was very much excited; I was now arriving at the site of my birth, and it brought to my mind the details given me by my poor mother, when, finding she could no longer conceal the truth from me, she entered into a narrative to extenuate her conduct, pointing out her temptations, and how fatal to her were opportunity and seclusion.

Chapter XXXIII.
I had not called upon old Waghorn, the uncle of Jane; as I was fearful that he might recognise the pretended agent of former days with the now captain of the Circe.

Chapter XXXIV.
As soon as I was at home again, the events of the day, from association of ideas, naturally brought Minnie Vanderwelt into my head, and I recollected that I had not written to her since my promotion and appointment to the Circe; I therefore sat down and indited a long letter, ending with expressing my regret at not having received an answer from the many I had written, especially the last, which informed them of my arrival in England, and gave them the knowledge where to address me.

Chapter XXXV.
As I said before, the lane was very narrow, not admitting more than one vehicle to go along it, and was sunk between the hedges on each side, so as to render it not very easy to climb up the bank.

Chapter XXXVI.
The next day, being the first of September, we were all very busy, and we continued to shoot every day for a week, when I thought it time to return to Portsmouth.

Chapter XXXVII.
My time was now fully employed during the day in fitting out the frigate; but in the evening I generally dined out at the admiral’s or at the officers’ mess.

Chapter XXXVIII.
My recovery was rapid: in less than a fortnight I was on the sofa.

Chapter XXXIX.
I returned on deck followed by the master. “The barometer is rising,” said I aloud, to the first lieutenant; “so I presume the gale will break about twelve o’clock.

Chapter XL.
The frigate was head to wind, rising and pitching with the heavy sea, but not yet feeling the strain of the cables: the masts lay rolling and beating alongside.

Chapter XLI.
The night was now coming on; the rolling waves changed from the yellow tinge given by the sand to green, and then to purple: at last all was black except the white foaming breakers.

Chapter XLII.
The sun rose and chased away the clouds, and the heat was overpowering.

Chapter XLIII.
As neither my men nor I had any luggage to hamper us—for we had just the clothes we stood in—we were not long getting ready.

Chapter XLIV.
The Cossacks having divided, and gone in pursuit of the French, I pointed out to Cross a hotel, and requested him to help me there.

Chapter XLV.
The next morning I was pale and feverish, which they observed with concern, Minnie was sitting by me, and Mr. Vanderwelt had left the room, when she said, “How very pale you are, and your hand is so hot; I wish the doctor would come.

Chapter XLVI.
The receipt of this letter was extremely mortifying to me. I could not help feeling that if I lost the fine property which had been intended for me, I lost it chiefly by the deceit practised relative to my mother’s supposed death, and that if I did lose the estate in consequence, it was a proper punishment.

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