



Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England




The Three Midshipmen, by W.H.G. Kingston.

________________________________________________________________________

The tale of the Three Midshipmen is carried on to the Three Lieutenants,
the Three Commanders, and the Three Admirals.  The book starts with the
arrival of three new boys at a boarding school for young gentlemen.  One
boy is English, one is Scottish, and the third is Irish.  Under the
influence of various bullies and other schoolboy adversities the three
lads learn to stick together, and to look after each other.  They join
the Navy, and get various postings by which from time to time they meet,
usually under the most difficult circumstances.  Of course they each
survive bravely, though any of the boats' crews that they have the
honour to command are mowed down by the enemy.  In other words, some of
it is pretty tall stuff, but it was very good fare for the nineteenth
century and early twentieth century English schoolboy.  I can remember
these books on our 1940s school library's shelves, very well-thumbed and
many times repaired by one of the masters, whose hobby it was to run a
voluntary book-binding class.  There are three parts to the book, of
which we originally published only the first two, as we were working
with a book that did not have the last part. In this new 2006 edition
you will be able to read about the Midshipmen in China.  We apologise
for the delay in making good this omission.

We see no reason why you should not enjoy this book.

________________________________________________________________________

THE THREE MIDSHIPMEN IN THE LEVANT, IN AFRICA AND IN CHINA, BY W.H.G.
KINGSTON.



CHAPTER ONE.

EARLY DAYS.

Ours was a capital school, though it was not a public one.  It was not
far from London, so that a coach could carry us down there in little
more than an hour from the _White Horse Cellar_, Piccadilly.  On the top
of the posts, at each side of the gates, were two eagles; fine large
birds I thought them.  They looked out on a green, fringed with tall
elms, beyond which was our cricket-field.  A very magnificent red-brick
old house rose behind the eagles, full of windows belonging to our
sleeping-rooms.  The playground was at the back of the house, with a
grand old tulip tree in the centre, a tectum for rainy weather on one
side, and the large school room on the other.  Beyond was a good-sized
garden, full of apple and pear trees, but, as we very seldom went into
it, I do not remember its appearance.  Perhaps, were I to see the place
again, I might find its dimensions somewhat altered.  The master was a
first-rate schoolmaster.  What his attainments were, I cannot say; but
he understood managing boys admirably.  He kept us all in very good
order, had us fairly taught, fed us with wholesome, if not luxurious,
food, and, though he used his cane freely, treated us justly.  We held
him in awe, and yet we liked him.

It was after the summer holidays, when I had just got back, I heard that
three new boys had come.  In the afternoon they all appeared in the
playground.  They were strangers to each other as well as to us, but
their similarity of fate drew them together.  One was a slightly made,
dark, and somewhat delicate-looking boy; another was a sturdy little
fellow, with a round, ruddy countenance, and a jovial, good-natured
expression in it, yet he did not look as if he would stand any nonsense;
the third was rather smaller than the other two, a pleasant-looking
fellow, and though his eyes were red with crying, he seemed to be
cutting some joke which made his companions laugh.  He had come all the
way from Ireland, we heard, and his elder brother had that morning left
him and gone back home, and that made him unhappy just then.  He at once
got the name of Paddy in the school.  He did not mind it.  His real name
was Terence Adair, so sometimes he was called Paddy Adair.

"I say, you fellow, what's your name?" asked a biggish boy of the
stoutest of the three new-comers.

"Jack Rogers," was the answer, given in a quiet tone.

"I don't believe it," replied the big boy, who was known as Bully
Pigeon; "it's such a rum name."

"I'll make you believe it, and remember it too," exclaimed the
new-comer, eyeing the other from head to foot, and walking firmly up to
him, with his lips closed, while he moved his head slowly from side to
side.  "I tell you my name is Jack Rogers--Now!"

The bully did not say a word.  He looked as if he would have liked to
have hit, but Paddy Adair had followed his new friend, and was evidently
about to join in the fray if it was once begun; so the big boy thought
better of it.  He would gain no credit for attacking a little fellow the
first day of his coming.  There were many witnesses of the scene, and
Jack was unanimously pronounced to be a plucky little chap.  Pigeon,
defeated in one direction, turned his attention to the first-named boy,
who had scarcely moved since he entered the playground, but kept looking
round with his large black eyes on the scene before him, which was
evidently strange to his sight.

"What are you called, I should like to know?" he asked in a rude tone.

"Alick Murray," was the answer, in a quiet, gentlemanly voice.

"Then you come from Scotland, I suppose?" said the bully.

"Yes, I do," replied the former.

"Oh!  I wonder your mamma would let you go away from her