notorious with his whip and spurs,' settled down into a kind of
Tony Lumpkin, waiting for the shoes of his father and his aunt.
Thomas Frewen, the youngest, is briefly dismissed as 'a handsome
beau'; but he had the merit or the good fortune to become a doctor
of medicine, so that when the crash came he was not empty-handed
for the war of life. Charles, at the day-school of Northiam, grew
so well acquainted with the rod, that his floggings became matter
of pleasantry and reached the ears of Admiral Buckner. Hereupon
that tall, rough-voiced, formidable uncle entered with the lad into
a covenant: every time that Charles was thrashed he was to pay the
Admiral a penny; everyday that he escaped, the process was to be
reversed. 'I recollect,' writes Charles, 'going crying to my
mother to be taken to the Admiral to pay my debt.' It would seem
by these terms the speculation was a losing one; yet it is probable
it paid indirectly by bringing the boy under remark. The Admiral
was no enemy to dunces; he loved courage, and Charles, while yet
little more than a baby, would ride the great horse into the pond.
Presently it was decided that here was the stuff of a fine sailor;
and at an early period the name of Charles Jenkin was entered on a
ship's books.

From Northiam he was sent to another school at Boonshill, near Rye,
where the master took 'infinite delight' in strapping him. 'It
keeps me warm and makes you grow,' he used to say. And the stripes
were not altogether wasted, for the dunce, though still very 'raw,'
made progress with his studies. It was known, moreover, that he
was going to sea, always a ground of pre-eminence with schoolboys;
and in his case the glory was not altogether future, it wore a
present form when he came driving to Rye behind four horses in the
same carriage with an admiral. 'I was not a little proud, you may